go, when people are so kind, so
very kind, as Lady Albury and your dear mamma? I feel as
though I should like to run from the house, and never come
back, even though I had to die in the streets. I was so
happy when I got your letter and Lady Albury's, and now I
am so wretched! I cannot write to Lady Albury. You must
just tell her, with many thanks from me, that they will
not let me go!

Your unhappy but affectionate friend,

AYALA.

CHAPTER XXII.

AYALA'S GRATITUDE.

There was much pity felt for Ayala among the folk at Stalham. The
sympathies of them all should have been with Mrs. Dosett. They ought
to have felt that the poor aunt was simply performing an unpleasant
duty, and that the girl was impracticable if not disobedient. But
Ayala was known to be very pretty, and Mrs. Dosett was supposed to
be plain. Ayala was interesting, while Mrs. Dosett, from the nature
of her circumstances, was most uninteresting. It was agreed on all
sides, at Stalham, that so pretty a bird as Ayala should not be
imprisoned for ever in so ugly a cage. Such a bird ought, at least,
to be allowed its chance of captivating some fitting mate by its
song and its plumage. That was Lady Albury's argument,--a woman very
good-natured, a little given to match-making, a great friend to
pretty girls,--and whose eldest son was as yet only nine, so that
there could be no danger to herself or her own flock. There was much
ridicule thrown on Mrs. Dosett at Stalham, and many pretty things
said of the bird who was so unworthily imprisoned in Kingsbury
Crescent. At last there was something like a conspiracy, the purport
of which was to get the bird out of its cage in November.

In this conspiracy it can hardly be said that the Marchesa took an
active part. Much as she liked Ayala, she was less prone than Lady
Albury to think that the girl was ill-used. She was more keenly
alive than her cousin,--or rather her cousin's wife,--to the hard
necessities of the world. Ayala must be said to have made her own
bed. At any rate there was the bed and she must lie on it. It was not
the Dosetts' fault that they were poor. According to their means they
were doing the best they could for their niece, and were entitled to
praise rather than abuse. And then the Marchesa was afraid for her
nephew. Colonel Stubbs, in his letter to her, had declared that he
quite agreed with her views as to matrimony; but she was quite alive
to her neph