forth at the commencement of this history; and which then, as now,
was kept by her relative, the thrifty Mrs. Score. That good
landlady, seeing a lady, in a smart hood and cloak, leaning, as if
faint, upon the arm of a gentleman of good appearance, concluded
them to be man and wife, and folks of quality too; and with much
discrimination, as well as sympathy, led them through the public
kitchen to her own private parlour, or bar, where she handed the
lady an armchair, and asked what she would like to drink. By this
time, and indeed at the very moment she heard her aunt's voice, Mrs.
Catherine was aware of her situation; and when her companion
retired, and the landlady, with much officiousness, insisted on
removing her hood, she was quite prepared for the screech of
surprise which Mrs. Score gave on dropping it, exclaiming, "Why, law
bless us, it's our Catherine!"

"I'm very ill, and tired, aunt," said Cat; "and would give the world
for a few hours' sleep."

"A few hours and welcome, my love, and a sack-posset too. You do
look sadly tired and poorly, sure enough. Ah, Cat, Cat! you great
ladies are sad rakes, I do believe. I wager now, that with all your
balls, and carriages, and fine clothes, you are neither so happy nor
so well as when you lived with your poor old aunt, who used to love
you so." And with these gentle words, and an embrace or two, which
Mrs. Catherine wondered at, and permitted, she was conducted to that
very bed which the Count had occupied a year previously, and
undressed, and laid in it, and affectionately tucked up by her aunt,
who marvelled at the fineness of her clothes, as she removed them
piece by piece; and when she saw that in Mrs. Catherine's pocket
there was only the sum of three and fourpence, said, archly, "There