Alas! that was no refuge.  She had been too much tired to hear anything the night before, but to-night there was scratching, nibbling, careering, fighting, squeaking, recoil and rally, charge and rout, as the grey Hanover rat fought his successful battle with his black English cousin all over the floors and stairs—­nay, once or twice came rushing up and over the bed—­frightening its occupant almost out of her senses, as she cowered under the bed-clothes, not at all sure that they would not proceed to eating her.  Happily daylight came early.  Aurelia, at its first ray, darted across the room, starting in horror when she touched a soft thing with her bare foot, opened the shutter, and threw open the casement.  Light drove the enemy back to their holes, and she had a few hours’ sleep, but when Mrs. Loveday came to the room when she was nearly dressed, she exclaimed, “Why, miss, you look paler than you did yesterday.”

“The rats!” said Aurelia under her breath.

“Ah! the rats!  Of course they are bad enough in an old desolate place like this.  But you’ve done the shells right beautiful, that I will say; and you may leave this house this very day if you will only give your consent to what my Lady asks.  You shall be sent down this very day to Carminster, if so be you’ll give up that ring of yours, and sign a paper giving up all claim to be married to his Honour.  See, here it is, all ready, in my Lady’s letter.”

“I cannot,” said Aurelia, with her hands behind her.

“You can read my Lady’s letter,” said Loveday; “that can do you no harm.”

Aurelia felt she must do that at least.

“CHILD,

“I will overlook your Transgression on the One Condition, that you sign this Paper and send it with your so-called Wedding Ring back to me immediately.  Otherwise you must take the Consequences, and remain where you are till after my Son’s Marriage.

“URANIA BELAMOUR.”

The paper was a formal renunciation of all rights or claims from the fictitious marriage by which she had been deceived, and an absolute pledge never to renew any contract with Sir Amyas Belamour, Knight Baronet, who had grossly played on her.

“No, I cannot,” said Aurelia, pushing it from her.

“Indeed, miss, I would not persuade you to it if it were not for your own good; but you may be sure it is no use holding out against her Ladyship.  If you sign it now, and give it up honourable, she will send Mr. Dove home with you, and there you’ll be as if nothing had been amiss, no one knowing nothing about it; but if you persist it will not make the marriage a bit more true, and you will only be kept moped up in this dismal place till his Honour is married, and there’s no saying what worse my Lady may do to you.”

Another night of rats came up before Aurelia’s imagination in contrast with the tender welcome at home; but the white face and the tones that had exclaimed, “Madam, what are you doing to my wife?” arose and forbade her.  She would not fail him.  So she said firmly once more, “No, Mrs. Loveday, I cannot.  I do not know what lawyers may say, but I feel myself bound to Sir Amyas, and I will not break my vow—­God helping me,” she added under breath.