'Then I hope,' said Laura, 'your Ladyship will allow a servant to accompany me to Norwood. At this hour it would be improper for me to go alone.' 'Oh to be sure,' cried Lady Pelham, 'do go to your friend and favourite and make your complaint of all your harsh usage, and descant at large upon poor Lady Pelham's unlucky failings. No, no, I promise you, no servant of mine shall be sent on any such errand.' 'There is fine moonlight,' said Laura looking calmly from the window, 'I dare say I shall be safe enough alone.' 'You shall not go to Norwood!' cried Lady Pelham--'I'll take care to keep you from that prying, censorious old hag. You two shan't be allowed to sit primming up your mouths, and spitting venom on all the neighbourhood.' Weary of such low abuse, Laura took her bonnet, and was leaving the room. Lady Pelham placed herself between her and the door. 'Where are you going?' she demanded, in a voice in which rage was a little mingled with dread. 'To the only shelter that England affords me,' returned Laura; 'to the only friends from whom death or distance does not sever me.' 'I shall spoil your dish of scandal for to-night, however,' said Lady Pelham, flouncing out of the room; and, slapping the door with a force that made the windows rattle, she locked it on the outside. Laura making no attempt to obtain release, quietly sat down expecting a renewal of the charge. Soon, however, all the household seemed still, and Laura having mingled with the prayer that commended herself to the care of heaven, a supplication for pardon and amendment to her aunt, retired to sound and refreshing rest. On quitting Laura, Lady Pelham went to bed, pride and anger in her breast fiercely struggling against a sense of blame. But the darkness, the silence, the loneliness of night assuage the passions even of a termagant; and by degrees she turned from re-acting and excusing her conduct, to fretting at its probable consequences.