“And now, oh! it is so sweet to lie here and know it is you. And wasn’t _he_ there too?” “Sir Amyas? Yes, my dear. He came for you. He and my father and the others are in the other room waiting for you to wake.” “I hear their voices,” cried Aurelia, with a start, sitting up. “Oh! that’s my papa’s voice! Oh! how good it is to hear it!” “I will call him as soon as I have set you a little in order. Are you sure you are well, my dearest? No headache?” “Quite, quite well! Why, sister, I have not been ill; and if I had, I should skip to see you and hear their voices, only I wish they would speak louder! That’s Eugene! Oh! they are hushing him. Let me make haste,” and she moved with an alacrity that was most reassuring. “But I can’t understand. Is it morning or evening?” “Evening, my dear. They are at supper. Are not you hungry?” “Oh, yes, I believe I am;” but as she was about to wash her hands: “My rings, my wedding-ring? Look in my glove!” “No, they are not there my dear, they must have robbed you! And oh! Aurelia, what have you done to your hair?” “My hair? It was all there this morning. Sister, it was that woman, I remember now, I was not quite sound asleep, but I had no power to move or cry out, and the woman was snipping and Loveday crying.” “Vile creature!” burst out Betty. “My hair will grow!” said Aurelia; “but I had so guarded my wedding-ring--and what will he, Sir Amyas, think?” Their voices were at this moment heard, and in another second Aurelia was held against her father’s breast, as in broken words he sobbed out thanks for her restoration, and implored her pardon for having trusted her out of his care. “Oh! sir, do not speak so! Dear papa, I have tried hard to do you no harm, and to behave well. Please, sir, give me your blessing.” “God bless you indeed, my child. He has blessed you in guarding you as your innocence deserved, though I did not. Ah! others are impatient. The poor old father comes second now.” After a few minutes spent in repairing the disorder of her dress, and her hands in those of her father and little brother, she was led to the outer room where in the twilight there was a rapturous rush, an embrace, a fondling of the hand in the manner more familiar to her than the figure from before whom it proceeded. She only said in her gentle plaintive tone, “Oh, sir, it was not my fault. They took away your rings.” “Nay,” said a voice, new to her, “here are your rings, Lady Belamour. I must trust to your Christian charity to pardon her who caused you to be stripped of them.” The name of Lady Belamour made her start as that of her enemy, but a truly familiar tone said, “You need not fear, my kind friend. This is Mr. Wayland, who, to our great joy, has returned, and has come to restore your jewels.” “Indeed I am very glad yours is not lost,” said Aurelia, not a little bewildered. Mr. Wayland said a few words of explanation that his wife’s agent at Greenwich had brought them back to her.