One, however, at the foot of the stairs was opened by Mrs. Aylward.  It led to a sort of narrow lobby, with a sashed window above a low door, opening on stone steps down to the terrace and garden.  To the right was an open door, giving admittance to a room hung with tapestry, with a small carpet in the centre of the floor, and a table prepared for the morning meal.  There was a certain cheerfulness about it, though it was bare of furniture; but there was an easy chair, a settee, a long couch, a spinnet, and an embroidery frame, so that altogether it had capabilities of being lived in.

“Here you will sit, madam, with the young ladies,” said Mrs. Aylward.  “They have a maid-servant who will wait on you, and if you require anything, you will be pleased to speak to me.  My Lady wishes you to take charge of them, and likewise to execute the piece of embroidery you will find in that frame, with the materials.  This will be your apartment, and you can take the young ladies into the garden and park, wherever you please, except that they must not make a noise before the windows of the other wing, which you will see closed with shutters, for those are Mr. Belamour’s rooms.”

With these words Mrs. Aylward curtsied as if about to retire, Aurelia held out her hand in entreaty.  “Oh, cannot you stay with me?”

“No, madam, my office is the housekeeper’s,” was the stiff response.  “Molly will call me if you require my services.  I think you said you preferred bread and milk for breakfast.  Dinner will be served at one.”

Mrs. Aylward retreated, leaving a chill on the heart of the lonely girl.

She was a clergyman’s widow, though with no pretensions to gentility, and was a plain, conscientious, godly woman, but with the narrow self-concentrated piety of the time, which seemed to ignore all the active part of the duty to our neighbour.  She had lived many years as a faithful retainer to the Belamour family, and avoided perplexity by minding no one’s business but her own, and that thoroughly.  Naturally reserved, and disapproving much that she saw around her, she had never held it to be needful to do more than preserve her own integrity, and the interests of her employers, and she made it a principle to be in no wise concerned in family affairs, and to hold aloof from perilous confidences.

Thus Aurelia was left to herself, till three bowls of milk were borne in by Molly, who was by no means loth to speak.

“The little misses will be down directly, ma’am,” she said, “that is, two on ’em.  The little one, she won’t leave Jenny Bowles, but Dame Wheatfield, she’ll bring down the other two.  You see, ma’am, they be only just taken home from being out at nurse, and don’t know one another, nor the place, and a pretty handful we shall have of ’em.”