At last, however, the cloth was removed, walnuts, apples, pears, and biscuits were placed on the table, a glass of wine poured out for each lady, and the quartette, with the cat and dog, drew near the sunny window, where there was a little warmth. It was a chilly day, but no one ever lighted a fire before the 5th of November, Old Style. Then began one of those catechisms which fortunately are less unpleasant to youth and simplicity than they are to persons of an age to resent inquiry, and who have more resources of conversation. In truth, Aurelia was in the eyes of the Treforth sisters, descendants of a former Sir Jovian, only my Lady’s poor kinswoman sent down to act _gouvernante_ to the Wayland brats, who had been impertinently quartered in the Belamour household. She would have received no further notice, had it not been reported through the servants that “young Miss” spent the evenings with their own cousin, from whom they had been excluded ever since his illness. The subject was approached through interrogations on Miss Delavie’s home and breeding, how she had travelled, and what were her accomplishments, also whether she were quite sure that none of the triad was either imbecile nor deformed. Mrs. Hunter seemed to have heard wonderful rumours about the poor children. “Has their lady mother seen them?” “Yes, madam. She had been there with them shortly before my arrival.” “Only once in their lives!” There was a groan of censure such as would have fired the loyal Major in defence. “No wonder, Sister Phoebe, my Lady Belamour does not lead the life of a tender mother.” “She has the little boy, Archer, with her in London,” Aurelia ventured to say. “And a perfect puppet she makes of the poor child,” said Mrs. Hunter. “My sister Chetwynd saw him with his mother at a masquerade, my Lady Belamour flaunting as Venus, and he, when he ought to have been in his bed, dressed in rose-colour and silver, with a bow and arrows, and gauze wings on his shoulders!” “What will that child come to?” “Remember, Sister Delia, he is no kin of ours. He is only a Wayland!” returned Mrs. Phoebe, in an accent as if the Waylands were the most contemptible of vermin. “I hope,” added Mrs. Delia, “that these children are never permitted to incommode our unfortunate cousin, Mr. Belamour.” “I trust not, madam,” said Aurelia. “Their rooms are at a distance from his; they are good children, and he says he likes to hear young voices in the gardens.” “You have, then, seen Mr. Belamour?” “I cannot say that I have seen him,” said Aurelia, modestly; “but I have conversed with him.” “Indeed! Alone with him?” “Jumbo was there.” The two old ladies drew themselves up, while Mrs. Hunter chuckled and giggled. “Indeed!” said Mrs. Phoebe; “we should never see a gentleman in private without each other’s company, or that of some female companion.” “I consulted Mrs. Aylward,” returned Aurelia, “and she said he was old enough to be my father.”