"What is she?" "The Abbess of a convent of English nuns at Bruges." "And is that poor little girl, Miss Annabella, one of the conspirators?" "She is the decoy. I think her wits have been terrified out of her; she only does as she is told." "Hatty," I said, "you do not believe the doctrines of Popery?" "I don't know what I believe, or don't believe," she sobbed. "If you can get me out of here and back home, I shall think there is a God again. I was beginning to doubt that and everything else." A voice came up the stairs, raised rather loudly. "You must pardon me, Madam, but I am quite sure both my nieces are here," said my Uncle Charles's welcome tones. I rushed to the door again. "This way, Uncle Charles!" I cried. "Hatty, where is your bonnet?" "I don't know. They took all my outdoor things away." "Tie my scarf over your head, and get into the chair. As my Uncle Charles is here, I can walk very well." He had come up now, and stood looking at Hatty's white, miserable face. If he had seen it a few minutes earlier, he would have thought the misery far greater. "Well, this is a pretty to-do!" cried my Uncle. "Hatty, child, these wretches have used you ill. Why on earth did you stay with them?" "At first I did not want to get away, Uncle," she said, "and afterwards I could not." We went down-stairs. Mrs Crossland was standing in the door of the drawing-room, with thin, shut-up lips, and a red, angry spot on either cheek. Inside the room I caught a glimpse of Annabella, looking woefully white and frightened. Mr Crossland I could nowhere see. "Madam," said my Uncle Charles, sarcastically, "I will thank you to give up those other young ladies, my nieces' cousins. If they wish to remain in London, they can do so, but it will not be in Charles Street. Did you not tell me, Cary, that their father wished them to come home?" "My Aunt Kezia said that he intended to write to them to say so," I answered, feeling as though it were about a year since I had received my Aunt Kezia's letter. "Really, Sir!" Mrs Crossland began, "the father of these gentlewomen consigned them to my care--" "And I take them out of your care," returned my Uncle Charles. "I will take the responsibility to Mr Bracewell." "I'll take all the responsi-what's-its-name," said Charlotte, suddenly appearing among us. "Thank you, Mr Desborough; I'd rather not stop here when Hatty is gone. Emily!" she shouted. Amelia came down-stairs with her bonnet on, and Charlotte's in her hand. "You can't go without a bonnet, my dear child." "Oh, pother!" cried Charlotte, seizing her bonnet by the strings, and sticking it on the top of her head anyhow it liked.