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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Her Season in Bath + A Story of Bygone Days + +Author: Emma Marshall + +Release Date: July 2, 2010 [EBook #33055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HER SEASON IN BATH *** + + + + +Produced by Brian Foley, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>Her Season in Bath</h1> + +<h3><i>A STORY OF BYGONE DAYS</i></h3> + +<h2>BY EMMA MARSHALL</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "BRISTOL DIAMONDS," "THE TOWER ON THE CLIFF," ETC., ETC.</h4> + +<h3>LONDON<br /> +SEELEY & CO., ESSEX STREET, STRAND<br /> +1889</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"One loving hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full many years of sorrow can dispense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sour."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Spenser</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. COIFFEUR</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE TIDE OF FASHION</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. ANOTHER SIDE OF THE PICTURE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. MUSIC</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. GRISELDA! GRISELDA!</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. GRAVE AND GAY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. THE VASE OF PARNASSUS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. ON THE TRACK</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. WATCHED!</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. A PROPOSAL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. A LETTER</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. DISCOVERED</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. THE PLOT THICKENS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. BRAWLS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. CHALLENGED</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. IN THE EARLY MORNING</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. THE BITTER END</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. TEN YEARS LATER—1790.</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#WORKS_BY_MRS_MARSHALL">WORKS BY MRS. MARSHALL.</a><br /> +<a href="#TALES_BY_MISS_WINCHESTER">TALES BY MISS WINCHESTER.</a><br /> +<a href="#RECENTLY_PUBLISHED">RECENTLY PUBLISHED.</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Her Season in Bath</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>COIFFEUR.</h3> + + +<p>It was the height of the Bath season in 1779, and there was scarcely any +part of the city which did not feel the effect of the great tide of +amusement and pleasure, which set in year by year with ever-increasing +force, and made the streets, and parades, and terraces alive with +gaily-dressed fashionable ladies and their attendant beaux.</p> + +<p>The chair-men had a fine trade, so had the mantua-makers and +dressmakers, to say nothing of the hairdressers, who were skilled in the +art of building up the powdered bastions, which rose on many a fair +young head, and made the slender neck which supported them bend like a +lily-stalk with their weight. Such head-gear was appropriate for the +maze of the stately minuet and Saraband, but would be a serious +inconvenience if worn now-a-days, when the whirl of the waltz seems to +grow ever faster and faster, and the "last square" remaining in favour +is often turned into a romp, which bears the name of "Polka Lancers." +There was a certain grace and poetry in those old-world dances, and +they belonged to an age when there was less hurry and bustle, and all +locomotion was leisurely; when our great-grandmothers did not rush madly +through the country, and through Europe, as if speed was the one thing +to attain in travelling, and breathless haste the great charm of travel.</p> + +<p>And not of travel only. Three or four "at homes" got through in one +afternoon, is a cause of mighty exultation; and a dinner followed by an +evening reunion, for which music or recitations are the excuse, to wind +up with a ball lasting till day-dawn, is spoken of as an achievement of +which any gentlewoman, young or old, may feel proud.</p> + +<p>The two ladies who were seated with their maid in attendance in a large +well-furnished apartment in North Parade on a chill December morning in +the year 1779, awaiting the arrival of the hairdresser, had certainly no +sign of haste or impatience in their manner. The impatience was kept in +reserve, in the case of the elder lady, for Mr. Perkyns and his +attendant, for Lady Betty had now passed her <i>première jeunesse</i>, and +was extremely careful that every roll should be in its right place, and +every patch placed in the precise spot which was most becoming. Lady +Betty's morning-gown was of flowered taffety, and open in front +displayed a short under-skirt of yellow satin, from which two very small +feet peeped, or rather were displayed, as they were crossed upon a high +square footstool.</p> + +<p>"Griselda, can't you be amusing? What are you dreaming about, child?"</p> + +<p>The young lady thus addressed started as if she had indeed been awakened +from a dream, and said:</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Lady Betty; I did not hear what you said."</p> + +<p>"No, you never hear at the right moment. Your ears are sharp enough at +the wrong. I never saw the like last evening at Mrs. Colebrook's +reunion. You looked all ears, then."</p> + +<p>"It was lovely music—it was divine!" Griselda said earnestly, and then, +almost instantly checking the burst of enthusiasm which she knew would +find no response, she said:</p> + +<p>"Will you carry out your intention of paying a visit in King Street? Mr. +and Miss Herschel receive guests to-morrow forenoon."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I vow I have but little inclination that way, but we will see. +But, Griselda, take my word for it, you are playing your cards +ill—staring like one daft at that singer who is no beauty, and +forgetting to acknowledge Sir Maxwell Danby last evening when he made +you that low bow. Why, child, don't you know he is a great catch?"</p> + +<p>Griselda's cheeks flushed crimson.</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship forgets we are not alone."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! as if my waiting-maid was not in all my little secrets. No +love-story is new to her, is it, Graves?"</p> + +<p>The person thus referred to, who had been engaged in plaiting ruffles +with a small iron, and sprinkling the fine lace with a few drops of +starched water as she did so, on hearing her name, turned her head in +the direction of her mistress, and said:</p> + +<p>"Did you speak, my lady?"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> know—<i>you</i> know, Graves. You know all about my billets-doux, and +my pretty gentlemen."</p> + +<p>If Melia, otherwise Amelia Graves, knew, her face showed no sign of +intelligence. It was a stolid face, hard and plain-featured, and she was +a strange mixture of devotion to her frivolous mistress, and strong +disapproval of that mistress's ways and behaviour. The real devotion and +affection for a family she had served for many years, often gained the +day, when she turned over in her mind the possibility of leaving a +service which involved so much of the world and its customs, which she +was the indirect means of encouraging by her continuous attention to all +the finery and gauds, in which Lady Betty Longueville delighted.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty was the widow of a rich gentleman, to whom she had been +married but a few years, when death ended what could not have ever been +more than a <i>mariage de convenance</i>. An orphan niece of Mr. +Longueville's, the child of a sister who had made what was considered a +<i>mésalliance</i>, had been left to Lady Betty as a legacy, and was +particularly mentioned in Mr. Longueville's concise will. His estate in +Ireland devolved on the next heir, but Mr. Longueville had accumulated a +pretty little fortune, which he had the power to settle on his wife. The +estate was entailed, but the money was his to leave as he chose. Lady +Betty had fully grasped the situation before she had accepted Mr. +Longueville's proposal, and the understanding that Griselda Mainwaring +was to be thrown into the bargain was rather agreeable than otherwise. +Strange to say, Mr. Longueville did not leave Griselda any money, and +simply stated that his niece, Griselda Mainwaring, the only issue of the +unhappy marriage of his sister, Dorothy Mainwaring, <i>née</i> Longueville, +was to be companion to his widow, and maintained by her, Lady Betty +Longueville, for the term of her natural life.</p> + +<p>It did not seem to have struck Mr. Longueville that either Lady Betty or +Griselda might marry, and Griselda was thus left as one of the bits of +blue china or old plate, which, being not included in the entail, fell +to Lady Betty with the "household effects, goods and chattels."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the feeling that she was a mere "chattel" weighed at times on +the tall and stately Griselda, whose grave eyes had ever a wistful +expression in them, as if they were looking out on some distant time, +where, behind the veil, the hopes and fears of youth, lay hidden.</p> + +<p>Griselda was outwardly calm and even dignified in her manner. She moved +with a peculiar grace, and formed a marked contrast in all ways to the +little vivacious Lady Betty, whose grand ambition was to be thought +young, and who understood only too well how to cast swift glances from +behind her fan upon the gay beaux, who haunted the city of Bath at that +time. For although the palmiest days of the Pump Room, under the +dominion of Beau Nash, were now long past, still in 1779 Bath held her +own, and was frequented by hundreds for health, to be regained by means +of its healing waters, and by thousands for pleasure and amusement.</p> + +<p>Amongst these thousands, Lady Betty Longueville was one of the foremost +in the race; and she spent her energies and her talents on "making a +sensation," and drawing to her net the most desirable of the idle beaux +who danced, and flirted, and led the gay and aimless life of men of +fashion.</p> + +<p>Graves was presently interrupted by a tap at the door; and, putting down +the lace, she went to open it, and found the hairdresser and his +assistant waiting on the landing for admission.</p> + +<p>The hairdresser made a low bow, and begged ten thousand pardons for +being late; but her ladyship must know that the ball to-night in +Wiltshire's Rooms was to be <i>the</i> ball of the season, and that he and +his man had been dressing heads since early dawn.</p> + +<p>"That is no news to me, Perkyns. Am I not one of the chief patronesses +of the ball? Have I not been besieged for cards? Tell me something more +like news than that."</p> + +<p>The assistant having spread out a large array of bottles, and brushes, +and flasks on a side-table cleared for the purpose, Mr. Perkyns wasted +no more time in excuses; he began operations at once on the lady's head, +while Griselda was left to the hands of the assistant.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty was far too much engrossed with her own appearance to take +much heed of Griselda's; and it was not till something like a discussion +was heard between the young lady and the "artist" that she said sharply:</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, Griselda? Pray, make no fuss!—you will +look well enough. A little less curl on the right side, Perkyns. Oh! +that bow is awry; and I will <i>not</i> have the knot of ribbon so low. I +said so last week."</p> + +<p>"The top-knots are not worn so high, my lady. Lady Cremorne's is quite +two inches lower than the point you indicate."</p> + +<p>"Folly to talk of <i>her</i>!—a giant who might be a female Goliath! As if +<i>her</i> mode was any rule for mine! I am <i>petite</i>, and need height. Thank +goodness, I am not a huge mass of bone and flesh, like my Lady +Cremorne!"</p> + +<p>"As you please, my lady—as you please. But it is my duty to keep my +patronesses up to the high-water mark of fashion."</p> + +<p>"I dare say folks with no taste may need your advice; but as I am +blessed with the power of knowing what I like—and with the will to +have it, too—I insist on the top-knot being at least two inches +higher."</p> + +<p>"Very good—very good, my lady. What is it, Samuel?"—for the assistant +now approached.</p> + +<p>"Shall I proceed to Sydney Place, sir? I have finished this young lady's +coiffure."</p> + +<p>"Finished!—impossible! Why, child, come here; let me see! Why, you are +not made up!—no rouge, nor a touch to your eyebrows!"</p> + +<p>"I do not desire it, madam; I do not desire to be painted. I have +requested the hairdresser to refrain——"</p> + +<p>"Well, you will look a fright for your pains by night! Nonsense, child! +powder must have paint. However, take your own way, you wilful puss! I +have no more to say."</p> + +<p>"I have done my best to persuade the lady," Sam said; "but it is +useless—it is in vain;" and, with a sigh, he began to gather together +the cosmetics and the little pots and bottles, and prepared for +departure.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkyns turned from the contemplation of the top-knots to give a +passing glance at Mistress Mainwaring. He shrugged his shoulders, and +murmured:</p> + +<p>"A pity that what is so fair should not be made still fairer! But do not +stand wasting precious time, Samuel; proceed to Sydney Place, and +announce my speedy arrival. You can leave me what is needful, and I will +follow and bring the smaller bag. Be quick, Samuel; and do not go to +sleep—on a day like this, of all days!"</p> + +<p>Samuel obeyed, and took leave; while Griselda, after a passing glance at +her head and shoulders in the mirror, retired to her own room on the +upper story, and, taking a violin from a case, began to draw the bow +over the strings.</p> + +<p>"If only I could make you sing to me as their fiddles sang last night! +If only I had a voice like that sister of Mr. Herschel's! Ah! that song +from the 'Messiah'—if only I could play it!" And then, after several +attempts, Griselda did bring out the air of the song which, perhaps of +all others, fastens on ear and heart alike in that sublime oratorio:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He shall feed His flock like a shepherd."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"So poor it sounds!" Griselda said; "so poor! I <i>will</i> get to Mr. +Herschel's, and ask if he will teach me to play and sing. I will. Why +not? Ah, it is the money! She dresses me, and keeps me; and that is all. +She would do nothing else. But I have bought you, you dear violin!" +Griselda said, pressing her lips to the silent instrument, where the +music, unattainable for her, lay hidden. "I have bought you, and I will +keep you; and, who knows? I may one day make you tell me all that is in +your heart. Oh that I were not at her beck and call to do her bidding; +speak to those she chooses; and have nothing to say to those she thinks +beneath her! Ah me! Alack! alack!"</p> + +<p>Griselda's meditations were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door; +and Graves came in with a bouquet in her hand, tied with pale primrose +ribbon.</p> + +<p>"That is for you, Mistress Griselda. The gentleman brought it himself; +'and,' says he, 'give it to the young lady in private.' And then he had +the impudence to offer me a crown-piece! Says I, 'I don't hold, sir, +with sly ways; and I don't want your money.' Then he looked uncommon +foolish, and said I was quite right; he hated sly ways. He only +meant—well, <i>I</i> knew what he meant—that I was not to let my lady know +you had the '<i>buket</i>;' but I just took it straight into the room, and +said, 'Here's a <i>buket</i> for Mistress Grisel;' and, what do you think? +she was in one of her tantrums with Mr. Perkyns, who vowed he would not +take down her hair again; and there she was, screaming at him, and you +might have had fifty <i>bukets</i>, and she wouldn't have cared. Ah, my dear +Mistress Griselda, these vanities and sinful pleasures are just Satan's +yoke. They bring a lot of misery, and his slaves are made to feel the +pricks. Better be servants to a good master—better be children of the +Lord—than slaves of sin. It's all alike," as she gave the violin-case a +touch with her foot; "it's all sin and wickedness—plays, and balls, and +music, and——"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Graves! Never tell me music is wrong. Why, you sing hymns at +Lady Huntingdon's Chapel—<i>that</i> is music!"</p> + +<p>"I don't hold with <i>that</i> altogether; but hymns is one thing, and +foolish love-songs another. I am trembling for you, my dear; I am +trembling for you, with your flowers and your finery. The service of the +world is hard bondage."</p> + +<p>Griselda had now put away her violin, and had taken up the flowers which +she had allowed to lie on the table, till her treasured possession was +in safety; and, as Graves departed, she said, as she saw a note hidden +in the centre of the bouquet:</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't care for these flowers; you may take them down to her +ladyship, if you please."</p> + +<p>But Graves was gone.</p> + +<p>A girl of twenty was not likely to be absolutely without curiosity, and, +though Griselda tore the scented, three-cornered billet open, and read +the contents with some eagerness, her face was flushed and her lip +curled as she did so.</p> + +<p>"To the fairest of the fair! These poor flowers came from one who lives +on her smile and hungers for her presence, with the prayer that she will +grant him one dance to-night—if but <i>one</i>——"</p> + +<p>Then there was a curious tangle of letters, which were twisted in the +form of a heart, the letter "G" being in the shape of a dart which had +pierced it.</p> + +<p>Griselda tore the note in pieces, and said:</p> + +<p>"Why does he not send his ridiculous billets to the person who wants +them? I hate him, and his finery, and his flattery. I know not which is +worse."</p> + + +<p>Hours were early in the eighteenth century, and by seven o'clock the two +ladies met in the dining-parlour of the house in North Parade ready for +the ball, and awaiting the arrival of the sedan-chairs, which were +attended by Lady Betty's own man.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty had recovered her good temper, and her rose-coloured sacque, +with its short-elbow sleeves and long puckered gloves, was quite to her +mind. The satin skirt was toned down by lamp-light, and the diamond +buckles on her dainty shoes glistened and gleamed as she went through a +step of the minuet, with her fan held in the most approved fashion.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, we are a pretty pair to-night! But, do you know, Carteret +vowed he thought I was younger than you were at the last ball! Fancy! I, +a widow, not quite fat, fair, and forty, but in my thirties I freely +allow! Child, you look as pale as a ghost! But it is a vastly pretty +gown. Lucky for you it did not suit my complexion; dead white never +does. But perhaps you are too white—all white. For my part I vow I like +colour. Your servant, madam! How do you fancy my new curtshey?" and the +little lady went through elaborate steps with her tiny twinkling feet, +and made a bow, which, however, she was careful should not be too low to +run any risk of disarranging her high coiffure, the erection of which +had cost so much trouble and sorrow of heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE TIDE OF FASHION.</h3> + + +<p>Wiltshire's Rooms were illuminated by many wax-candles, shedding a +softened and subdued light over the gay crowd which assembled there on +this December night. Lady Betty was soon surrounded by her admirers, and +showing off her dainty figure in the minuet and Saraband.</p> + +<p>There were three apartments in Wiltshire's Rooms—one for cards and +conversation or scandal, as the case might be, and one for refreshments, +and the larger one for dancing.</p> + +<p>Griselda was left very much to herself by her gay chaperon, and it was +well for her that she had so much self-respect, and a bearing and manner +wonderfully composed for her years. She was anxious to make her escape +from the ball-room to the inner room beyond; and she was just seating +herself on a lounge, as she hoped, out of sight, when a young man made +his way to her, and, leaning over the back of the sofa, said:</p> + +<p>"I could not get near you at the concert at Mrs. Colebrook's last +evening. Nor could I even be so happy as to speak to you afterwards. +Less happy than another, madam, I accounted myself."</p> + +<p>Though the speaker was dressed like the other fashionable beaux who +haunted the balls and reunions at Bath, and adopted the usual formality +of address as he spake to Griselda, there was yet something which +separated him a little from the rest. His clear blue eyes knew no guile, +and there was an air of refinement about him which inspired Griselda +with confidence. While she shrank from the bold flatteries and broad +jests of many of the gentlemen to whom she had been introduced by Lady +Betty, she did not feel the same aversion to this young Mr. Travers. He +had come for his health to take the Bath waters, and a certain delicacy +about his appearance gave him an attraction in Griselda's eye.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty Longueville called him dull and stupid, and had declared that +a man whose greatest delight was scraping on a violoncello, ought to +have respect to other folk's feelings who detested the sound. Music +accompanied by a good voice, or music like the band at Wiltshire's and +the Pump Room, was one thing, but dreary moans and groans on the +violoncello another.</p> + +<p>"You were pleased with the music last evening, Mistress Mainwaring?" Mr. +Travers was saying.</p> + +<p>"Yes; oh yes! Do you think, sir, Lady Betty and myself might venture to +pay our respects to Mr. and Miss Herschel?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I feel sure they will be proud to receive your visit. To-morrow +afternoon there is a rehearsal and a reception in Rivers Street. I +myself hope to be present; and may I hope to have the honour of meeting +you there?"</p> + +<p>"I will do my best, sir. But I am by no means an independent personage; +I am merely an appendage—a chattel, if you like the word better."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I like neither word," the young man said; "they do not suit you. +But to return to the visit to-morrow. Could you not make it alone?"</p> + +<p>Griselda shook her head, and then laughing, said:</p> + +<p>"It depends on the temperature."</p> + +<p>"But a chair is at your disposal. I can commend to you two steady men +who would convey you to Rivers Street."</p> + +<p>But Griselda shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of wind and weather, sir; but of the mood in which +my lady finds herself!"</p> + +<p>A bright smile seemed to show that Griselda's point was understood.</p> + +<p>"The Lady Betty is your aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, sir!—not that word. I am forbidden to call her 'aunt,' it smacks +of age and does not seem appropriate. I was Mr. Longueville's niece, +and, as I told you, I am a chattel left to Lady Betty for the term +of—well, my natural life, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Nay, that word might be well altered to the term of your unmarried +life, Mistress Griselda."</p> + +<p>Griselda grew her calm, almost haughty, self at once, and her companion +hastened to say:</p> + +<p>"You must see and know Mr. and Miss Herschel. Now, at this moment, while +all this gaiety goes on, they are in silence—their eyes, their thoughts +far away from all this folly and babble."</p> + +<p>"Are they so wrapt in their production of music?" Griselda asked.</p> + +<p>"I said they were at this moment engrossed in silence, for the music of +the spheres is beyond the hearing of mortal ears; it is towards this, +their whole being—brother and sister alike—is concentrated, at this +very moment, I will dare to say. Mr. Herschel and his sister lead a +double existence—the one in making music the power to uplift them +towards the grand aim of their lives, which is to discover new glories +amongst the mysteries of the stars, new worlds, it may be. What do I +say? These things are not new, only new to eyes which are opened by the +help of science, but in themselves old—old as eternity!"</p> + +<p>"I am a stranger in Bath," Griselda said. "I have never heard of these +things—never. I listened enchanted to Miss Herschel's voice last night, +to her brother's solo performance on the harpsichord, but of the rest I +knew nothing. It is wonderful all you say; tell me more."</p> + +<p>But while Leslie Travers and Griselda had been so engrossed with their +conversation as to be oblivious of anything beside, a stealthy step had +been skirting the card-room, passing the tables where dowagers and old +beaux sat at écarté, and other card games, with fierce, hungry +eagerness, till at last Sir Maxwell Danby wheeled round, and, bowing low +before Griselda, begged to lead her to the minuet now being formed in +the ball-room.</p> + +<p>"I do not dance to-night, sir," Griselda said. "I thank you for the +honour you do me."</p> + +<p>Down came Sir Maxwell's head, bowing lower than before, as he murmured:</p> + +<p>"Then if I may not have the felicity of a dance, at least give me the +pleasure of conducting you to supper. Several tables are occupied +already, and let me hope that this request will not be refused."</p> + +<p>While Sir Maxwell had been speaking Mr. Travers had left his position at +the back of the lounge, and had also come to the front and faced +Griselda.</p> + +<p>The two men exchanged a cold and formal salutation, and then Sir Maxwell +seated himself carelessly on the vacant place by Griselda's side, which +Mr. Travers would not have thought he was on sufficiently intimate terms +to do, and throwing his arm over the elbow of the sofa with easy grace, +and crossing his silk-stockinged legs, so that the brilliants on the +buckles of his pointed shoe flashed in the light, he said:</p> + +<p>"I will await your pleasure, fair lady, and let us have a little +agreeable chat before we repair to supper."</p> + +<p>"I think, sir," said Griselda, rising, "I will rejoin Lady Betty."</p> + +<p>"The minuet is formed by this time, and her ladyship is performing her +part to perfection, I doubt not. Let me advise you to remain here, or +allow me to take you to supper."</p> + +<p>Griselda gave a quick glance towards Mr. Travers, but he was gone. She +felt she must do one of two things: remain where she was till the dance +was over, or repair to the refreshment-room with her companion.</p> + +<p>On the whole it seemed better to remain. Two ladies whom she knew +slightly were seated at the card-table nearest her, and there might +perhaps be a chance of joining them when the game was over. For another +quartette was waiting till the table was free.</p> + +<p>"You look charming," Sir Maxwell began; "but why no colour to relieve +this whiteness? I vow I feel as if I, a poor mortal, full of sins and +frailties, was not worthy to touch so angelic a creature."</p> + +<p>Griselda was one of those women who do not soften and melt, nor even get +confused, under flattery. It has the very opposite effect, and she said +in a low, but decided voice:</p> + +<p>"There are topics less distasteful to me than personalities, sir; +perhaps you may select one."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you are cruel, I see. Well, I will only touch one more personality. +Why—why do I see no choice exotics in your hand, or on your breast? the +colour would have enhanced your beauty, and relieved my heart of a +burden."</p> + +<p>Griselda made no reply to this, but, rising with the dignity she knew so +well how to command, she walked towards the open door of the next room, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Travers, will you be so good as to take me to the ball-room that I +may rejoin Lady Betty Longueville?"</p> + +<p>The young man's face betrayed his pleasure at the request made to him, +and the discomfiture of his rival—rather I should say the hoped-for +discomfiture, for Sir Maxwell Danby was not the man to show that he had +the worst in any encounter. He was at Griselda's side in an instant, and +was walking, or rather I should say ambling, towards Lady Betty, and, +ignoring Mr. Travers's presence, said:</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship's fair ward is weary, nay, pining for your company, my +lady."</p> + +<p>Lady Betty shrugged her shoulders, and said:</p> + +<p>"I vow, sir, she has enough of my company, and I of hers! Now, Griselda, +do not look so mightily affronted; it is the truth. Let us all go to +supper; and make up a pleasant little party. You won't refuse, Mr. +Travers, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart I accede to your plan, Lady Betty," Sir Maxwell said, +"though I see your late partner is darting shafts of angry jealousy at +me from his dark eyes."</p> + +<p>So saying, Sir Maxwell led the way with Lady Betty on his arm, and +Griselda and Mr. Travers followed, but not before Griselda caught the +words:</p> + +<p>"Upon my honour, she acts youth to perfection; but she is forty-five if +she is a day. Did you ever behold such airs and graces?"</p> + +<p>Griselda felt her cheek burn with shame and indignation also, for had +she not heard Lady Betty say that young Lord Basingstoke was one of her +most devoted admirers? and yet she was clearly only a subject of +merriment, and the cause of that loud unmusical laughter which followed +the words. But Griselda had passed out of hearing before Lord +Basingstoke's friend inquired:</p> + + +<p>"Who is the other? She looks like a 'Millerite' and an authoress. He +would be a brave man to indulge in loose talk with her. Upon my word, +she walks like a tragedy queen!"</p> + +<p>"There'll be the story of Wilson and Macaulay told over again. We shall +have her statue put up to worship!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you are talking about," said the young lord, with a +yawn.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, have you never heard of Madam Macaulay, the writer of +nine huge volumes of history, who deserted the reverend Dr. Wilson and +married a young spark named Graham? She is Mrs. Graham now; has retired +from the gay scenes of Bath with her young Scot, who feeds on oat-cakes +and such-like abominations."</p> + +<p>"Lady Betty will be following suit—not the white lady," said the young +lord. "I think I'll try and get an introduction," he said, "and lead her +through the 'contre danse.'"</p> + +<p>"You won't get the introduction from Lady Betty. I'll lay a wager she +will be too wary to give it; but I must look after my partner, so +ta-ta!"</p> + +<p>Truly the world is a stage, across which the generations of men come and +go! Assemblies of to-day at Bath and Clifton, and other places of +fashionable resort, may wear a different aspect in all outward things, +but the salient points are the same. Idle men and foolish women vie with +each other in the parts they play. Age wears the guise of youth, and +vanity hopes that the semblance passes for the reality.</p> + +<p>Literary women may not write as Mrs. Macaulay did nine volumes of +ill-digested and shallow history, and become thereby famous, and it +would be hard to match the profane folly of a clergyman like Dr. Wilson, +who in his infatuation erected a statue to this woman in his own church +of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, adorned as the Goddess of Liberty—an +infatuation which we must charitably suppose was madness. Nor would such +a woman be the rage now at Bath or anywhere else.</p> + +<p>Lady Miller was of a higher order of womanhood. She created a literary +circle in a beautiful villa at Batheaston, inviting her friends to +contribute poems and deposit them in a vase from Frascati.</p> + +<p>It may seem to us ridiculous that successful contributors should be +crowned by Lady Miller with all due solemnity with myrtle wreaths. But +there is surely the same spirit abroad at the close of the nineteenth as +marked the last years of the eighteenth century. The pretenders are not +dead. They have not vanished out of the land. There are the Lady Bettys +who put on the guise of youth, and the Mrs. Macaulays who put on the +appearance of great literary talent. They pose as authorities on +literature and politics, and they are often centres of a <i>côterie</i> who +are fully as subservient as that which Lady Miller gathered round her in +her villa at Batheaston. They may not kneel to receive a laurel crown +from the hands of their patroness; but, none the less, they carry +themselves with the air of those who are superior to common folk, and +can afford to look down from a vantage-ground on their brothers and +sisters in the field of literature, who, making no effort to secure a +hearing, sometimes gain one, and win hearts also. It may be when the +memory of many has perished with their work, that those who have +laboured with a true heart for the good of others, and not for their own +praise and fame, may, being dead, yet speak to generations yet to come.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER SIDE OF THE PICTURE.</h3> + + +<p>There was not a cloud in the sky on that December night, and the "host +of heaven" shone with extra-ordinary brilliancy. The moon, at her full, +was shedding her pure silvery light upon the terraces and crescents +of the fair city of the West, and there were yet many people passing to +and fro in the streets. The link-boys had but scant custom that night, +and the chair-men found waiting for the ladies at Wiltshire's Rooms less +irksome than when, as so often happened, they had to stand in bitter +cold and darkness long after the hour appointed for them to take up +their burdens and carry them to their respective homes.</p> + +<p>In a room in Rivers Street a woman sat busily at work, with a mass of +papers before her—musical scores and printed matter, from which she was +making swift copy with her firm, decided hand. She was so absorbed in +the business in hand, that she did not feel the weariness of the task +before her. Copying catalogues and tables could not be said to be an +interesting task; but Caroline Herschel never weighed in the balance the +nature of her work, whether it was pleasant or the reverse. It was her +work, and she must do it; and it was service for one she loved best in +the world, and therefore no thought of her own likes or dislikes was +allowed to enter into the matter. Presently a voice was heard calling +her name:</p> + +<p>"Caroline—quick!"</p> + +<p>The pen was laid down at once, and Miss Herschel ran upstairs to the +upper story to her brother.</p> + +<p>"Help me to carry the telescope into the street. The moon is just in +front of the houses. Carry the stand and the instrument. Be careful! I +will follow with the rest."</p> + +<p>"In the street?" Caroline asked. "Will you not be disturbed by +passers-by?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing disturbs me," was the reply. "I answer no questions, so folks +tire of putting them. It is such a glorious night—there may not be +another like it for months; and the moon is clearer than I have seen her +since I had the seven-foot reflector."</p> + +<p>As William Herschel spoke, he was preparing to carry the precious +reflector downstairs—that outcome of many a night-watch, and many a +weary hour of purely manual labour. Turning the lathe and polishing +mirrors was, however, but a small part of his unflagging perseverance. +This perseverance had evolved the larger instrument from a small +telescope, bought for a trifle from an optician at Bath. That telescope +had first kindled the desire in William Herschel's mind to produce one +which should surpass all its predecessors, and help him to scan more +perfectly those "star-strewn skies," and discover in them treasures to +make known to future ages, and be linked for ever with his name. +Caroline Herschel was his right hand. She was his apprentice in the +workshop—his reader when the polishing went on; and often, when William +had not even a moment to spare for food, she would stand over him, and +feed him as he worked with morsels of some dish prepared by her own +hand.</p> + +<p>"You have copied the score for Ronzini, Caroline?"</p> + +<p>"I have nearly finished it."</p> + +<p>"And you have practised that quick passage in the song in 'Judas +Maccabæus'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I will do so again before to-morrow. It is our reception-day, +you remember."</p> + +<p>"Yes; where is Alexander?"</p> + +<p>"He is at the Ball at Wiltshire's. He was at work all the morning, you +know," Caroline said, in an apologetic tone.</p> + +<p>"Work is not Alex's meat and drink; he likes play."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the telescope was adjusted on the pavement before the +house; and the faithful sister, having thrown a thick shawl over her +head, stood patiently by her brother's side, handing him all he wanted, +writing down measurements, though her fingers were blue with cold, and +the light of the little hand-lanthorn she had placed on the doorstep +scarcely sufficed for her purpose.</p> + +<p>At last all was ready, and then silence followed—profound +silence—while the brother's eyes swept the heavens, and scanned the +surface of that pale, mysterious satellite of our earth, whose familiar +face looks down on us month by month, and by whose wax and wane we +measure our passing time by a sure and unfailing guide.</p> + +<p>Caroline Herschel took no notice of the few bystanders who paused to +wonder what the gentleman was doing. She stood waiting for his word to +note down in her book the calculation of the height of the particular +mountain in the moon to which the telescope was directed.</p> + +<p>Presently he exclaimed, "I have it!—write."</p> + +<p>And as Caroline turned to enter the figures dictated to her, a gentleman +who was passing paused.</p> + +<p>"May I be allowed to look into that telescope, madam?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Caroline only replied in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Wait, sir; he has not finished. He is in the midst of an abstruse +problem."</p> + +<p>"I have it—I have it!" was the next exclamation. "Write. It is the +highest of the range. There is snow on it—and—yes, I am pretty sure. +Now, Caroline, we will mount again, and I will make some observations on +the nebulæ—the night is so glorious."</p> + +<p>"William, this gentleman asks if he may be allowed to look into the +telescope."</p> + +<p>"Certainly—certainly, sir. Have you never seen her by the help of a +reflector before?"</p> + +<p>"No, never; that is to say, by the help of any instrument so gigantic as +this."</p> + +<p>William Herschel tossed back his then abundant hair, and said:</p> + +<p>"Gigantic!—nay, sir; the giant is to come. This is the pigmy, but now +stand here, and I will adjust the lens to your sight—so! Do you see?"</p> + + +<p>"Wonderful!" was the exclamation after a minute's silence. "Wonderful! +May I, sir, introduce myself as Dr. Watson, and may I follow up this +acquaintance by a call to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"You will do me great honour, sir; and if you care for music, be with us +to-morrow at three o'clock, when my sister there will discourse some +real melody, if so it should please you. Is it not so, Caroline?"</p> + +<p>"There will be more attractive music than mine, brother," Miss Herschel +said.</p> + +<p>"I doubt it, if, as I hear," said Dr. Watson, with a low bow, "the +musical world finds in Miss Herschel a worthy successor to the fair +Linley, who has made Sheridan happy—maybe happier than he deserves!"</p> + +<p>Caroline Herschel bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, and said:</p> + +<p>"Miss Farinelli carries the palm, sir. Now, brother, shall we return to +the top of the house?"</p> + +<p>She was almost numb with cold, but she made no complaint; and when the +telescope with all the instruments had been conveyed to the top story, +she patiently stood far into the night, while her brother swept the +heavens, and took notes of all he said, as his keen glances searched the +star depths, and every now and then exchanged an expression of wonder +and delight with his faithful friend, and the sharer of all his toils +and all his joys.</p> + +<p>So, while the gay world of Bath wore away the night in the hot chase for +pleasure, this brother and sister pursued their calm and earnest way +towards the attainment of an end, which has made their names a +watch-word for all patient learners and students of the great mysteries +of the universe, for all time.</p> + +<p>"The thirty-foot reflector, Caroline! That is the grand aim. Shall I +ever accomplish it? We must make our move at once, for I must have a +basement where I can work undisturbed. I find the pounding of the loam +will be a work of patience."</p> + +<p>"Like all work," Caroline said, as she retired, not to bed, but to the +copying of the score, from which occupation she had been disturbed when +her brother called her.</p> + +<p>"Expenses are ahead," she said to herself. "Money—money, we shall want +money for this thirty-foot; and, after all, it may be a vain hope that +we shall produce it. Thirty-foot! Well, music must find the money. Music +is our handle, our talisman which is to turn the common things into +gold."</p> + +<p>"Well, Alex, is that you? Have you been playing as usual?"</p> + +<p>"Playing, yes; and you had better play too, you look quite an old Frau, +Lina."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt it—not I; a contrast to your painted dames at +Wiltshire's."</p> + +<p>"One, at least, was not painted. She is a queen!—she is lovely."</p> + +<p>Caroline laughed a little ironical laugh.</p> + +<p>"Another flame! Poor Alex! you will sure be consumed ere long."</p> + +<p>"You won't laugh when you see her, Lina; and she is coming to-morrow to +listen to your singing. Travers has told me she was raving about your +singing at Madam Colebrook's the other evening, and he is to be here +to-morrow and introduce her."</p> + +<p>"He is very obliging, I am sure," said Caroline with another little +laugh. "There is a letter to Ronzini which should be sent by a messenger +early to-morrow to Bristol. Can you write it?"</p> + +<p>"It is early to-morrow now," replied Alex. "Stay, good sister. I must to +bed, and you should follow, or you will not be in trim to sing to the +lady fair to-morrow. Come!"</p> + +<p>"The bees make the honey, Alex; it would not answer if all were +butterflies. You are one of those who think that folks were made to make +your life pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Bees can sting, I see," was Alexander's remark. "But give me a kiss, +Lina; we don't forget our old home-love, do we? Let us hold together."</p> + +<p>"I am willing, dear Alex; if I am crabbed at times, make excuses. These +servants are a pest. I could fancy this last is a thief: the odds and +ends vanish, who knows how? Oh! I do long for the German households +which go on oiled wheels, and don't stop and put everyone out—time and +temper too—like these English ones."</p> + +<p>"We will all hasten back to Hanover, sister, with the telescopes at our +backs, when——"</p> + +<p>"When the thirty-foot mirror is made. Ah!—a——"</p> + +<p>This last interjection was prolonged, and turned into a sigh, almost a +groan.</p> + +<p>When Alex was gone his sister got up and walked two or three times round +the room, drank a glass of cold water, opened the shutters, and looked +out into the night.</p> + +<p>The moon had passed out of the ken of Rivers Street now, but its light +was throwing sharp blue shadows from the roofs of the houses, and the +figure of the watch-man with his multitude of capes as he stood +motionless opposite the window from which Caroline Herschel was looking +out into the night.</p> + +<p>Presently the dark shadow of the watchman's figure moved. He sounded his +rattle and walked on, calling in his ringing monotone:</p> + +<p>"It is just two o'clock, and a fine frosty morning. All well."</p> + +<p>As the sound died away with the watchman's heavy footsteps, Caroline +Herschel closed the shutter, and saying, "I am wide awake now," reseated +herself at the table, and wrote steadily on till the clock from the +Abbey church had struck four, when at last she went to bed.</p> + +<p>Her naturally strong physique, her unemotional nature, and her calm and +quiet temper, except when pestered by her domestics' misdemeanours, were +in Caroline Herschel's favour. Her head had scarcely touched the pillow +before she was in a sound refreshing sleep, while many of the votaries +of fashion tossed on their uneasy beds till day-dawn.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>MUSIC.</h3> + + +<p>Griselda Mainwaring was up very much earlier than Lady Betty on all +occasions, but on the morning after the ball in Wiltshire's Rooms she +was dressed and in the sitting-room before her ladyship had made any +sign of lifting her heavy head from the pillow. Heavy, indeed, as she +had been too cross and too tired to allow Graves to touch the erection +of powder and puff, which had cost Mr. Perkyns so many sighs.</p> + +<p>Griselda had taken down her own hair without help, and had shaken the +powder out of its heavy masses—no easy task, and requiring great +patience.</p> + +<p>"I will forswear powder henceforth," she said, as she looked at herself +in the glass. "Lady Betty says truly, powder must go with paint. I will +have neither."</p> + +<p>So the long, abundant tresses were left to their own sweet will, their +lustre dimmed by the remains of the powder at the top, but the under +tresses were falling in all their rippling beauty over her shoulders.</p> + +<p>Amelia Graves brought her a cup of chocolate and some finger-biscuits, +saying:</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship has already had two breakfasts, and after the last has +gone off to sleep again."</p> + +<p>"I hope she will remember she promised to go to Mr. Herschel's musical +reunion," Griselda said. "If not, Graves, I must go alone; I must +indeed. You will send the boy Zack for a chair, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"More of the gay world! Ah, my dear, I do pity you."</p> + +<p>"Gay world! Well, I know nothing that lifts one above it as music does. +I am no longer the pleasure-seeker then?"</p> + +<p>Graves shook her head, and, getting a long wrapper, she covered Griselda +with it, and began to comb and brush the hair which nearly touched the +floor as it hung over the back of the chair.</p> + +<p>"Come, I will gather the hair up for you. Well, it's a natural gift +coming from God, and the Word says long hair is a glory to a woman, or +I'd say it ought to be cut close. It is like your poor mother's, poor +lady!" It was very seldom that Graves or anyone else referred to the +sister of Mr. Longueville, who had disgraced herself by a <i>mésalliance</i>. +"Poor thing!—ah, poor thing! it all came of her love of the world and +the lust of the flesh."</p> + +<p>Griselda's proud nature always felt a pain like a sword-thrust when her +dead mother was spoken of.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of her, Graves, unless you can speak kindly. You know I told +you this the other day."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't wish to be unkind; but when a lady of high birth marries +a wretched playwright, a buffoon——"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" Griselda exclaimed. "No more of this. If you can be neither +respectful nor kind, say no more."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, there are times when I see your mother over again in +you, and I tremble," said poor Graves, "yes, I shudder. If a bad man got +hold of you, what then? I have my fears. It's out of love I speak."</p> + +<p>Griselda was touched at once.</p> + +<p>"I know it—I know, dear old Graves," she said. "There are few enough to +care about me, or whether bad or good men are in my company. That is +true, and I am glad you care," she added, springing up, and, throwing +off the wrapper, she bent her stately head and kissed the lined, rugged +cheek, down which a single tear was silently falling. "Dear old 'Melia, +I am sure you love me, and I will keep out of the hands of bad men and +women too. I want to go to-day to see a good, brave woman who sings +divinely, and whose whole life is devoted to her brother—a wonderful +musician."</p> + +<p>"Musician, yes. Music—music——"</p> + +<p>"But, to other things also; Mr. Herschel studies the wonders of the +heavens, and is measuring the mountains in the moon and searching +star-depths."</p> + +<p>"A pack of nonsense!" said Graves, recovering herself from the passing +wave of sentiment which had swept over her. "A pack of nonsense! I take +the stars as God set them in the heavens—to give light with the +moon—and I want to know no more than the Word teaches me. The sun to +rule by day, the moon and stars to rule by night. There! I hear her +ladyship. Yes, I'll order the chair—maybe two; but you'll dine first? +Her ladyship said she should dine at two—late enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, make haste and get her up, and stroke her the right way."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's not easy. There's always a crop of bristles sticking up +after a night's work like the last. It's the way of the natural man, and +we must just put up with it."</p> + +<p>There could be no doubt that when Lady Betty at last presented herself +from the room opening from the drawing-room she was in a bad mood, and +Griselda said "her chance of getting to the Herschels' was remote if it +depended on her will."</p> + +<p>Lady Betty yawned and grumbled, and taxed Griselda with stupidity; and +said by her airs she had affronted one of the best friends she, a poor +widow, had.</p> + +<p>"Sir Maxwell won't stand to be flouted by you, miss—a man of <i>ton</i> like +him; and <i>you</i>—well, I do not tell tales, or I might ruin your chance +of matrimony."</p> + +<p>Griselda's eyes flashed angrily; and then, recovering herself, she said:</p> + +<p>"At what hour shall we order the chairs?"</p> + +<p>"The chairs?—who said I wanted a chair? I am too worn out—too tired. I +vow I can scarcely endure myself. However, it might kill time to go to +listen to 'too-ti-toos' on that horrid big instrument. When Mr. Herschel +played on it the other night, I could think of nothing but a wretch +groaning in limbo. Ah, dear! Come, read the news; there ought to be +something droll in the Bath paper. I have no appetite. I am afraid I am +no better for the waters. But I must drag my poor little self up +to-morrow, and be at the Pump Room early. One is sure to hear a little +gossip there, thank goodness."</p> + +<p>It was by no means an easy task to prepare the drawing-room at the +Herschels' house for a rehearsal. Instruments of every kind blocked the +way, and these were not all musical instruments. Then there was the +arranging of the parts; the proper disposal of the music; the seats for +the guests who might happen to drop in, for these receptions answered, +perhaps, to the informal "at home" days of our own society of these +later times, when "at home," written on the ordinary visiting-card, +signifies that all who like to come are supposed to be welcome.</p> + +<p>Caroline Herschel went about her preparations with the same steady +perseverance which characterized everything she did. Her servant was one +of her trials—I must almost say her greatest trial—at this time. If +ever her temper failed her, it was at some misdemeanour of the +handmaiden who, for the time, filled the part of general helper in Miss +Herschel's household.</p> + +<p>Like most of her countrywomen, neatness and order were indispensable to +her comfort; and think, then, what the constant intrusion into every +corner of the house of lathes and turning-machines, of compasses and +glasses, and mirrors and polishing apparatus must have been! No wonder +that the English or Welsh servant, however willing, failed to meet her +mistress's requirements.</p> + +<p>On this occasion she had, with the best intention, bustled about; but +had always done precisely the reverse of what she was told to do.</p> + +<p>At last, breaking out into German invective, her mistress had given her +a rather decided push from the room, and had called Alexander to come to +her rescue.</p> + +<p>"The slut! Look at the dust on the harpsichord! Did I not tell her to +remove every speck before it was placed by the window? I would fifty +times sooner do all the work myself. What would our mother say at all +this?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows!" Alex said, laughing. "But, sister, the room looks spick +and span; and here is an arrival."</p> + + +<p>"It is only Mr. Travers; he is to play the second violin. Entertain him, +Alex, while I go and make my toilette."</p> + +<p>Repairing to the humble bedroom, which was really the only space +allotted to her—or, rather, that she allotted to herself—she changed +her morning-wrapper for a sacque of pale blue, and twisted a ribbon to +match it in her fair hair. As she was descending again to the +drawing-room, she heard her brother William's voice.</p> + +<p>"I have concluded the business about the removal to King Street, and we +must make the move as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"Now—at once?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; the garden slopes well to the river. There will be a magnificent +sky-line, and room for the great venture. The casting of the great +thirty-foot——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, William—yes; but the people are arriving, and you must be in your +place downstairs."</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Herschel, with the marvellous power of self-control which +distinguished him, laid aside the astronomer and became the musician, +playing a solo on the harpsichord to a delighted audience; and then +accompanying his sister in the difficult songs in "Judas Maccabæus," +which hitherto only the beautiful Miss Linley had attempted in Bath +society.</p> + +<p>In one of the pauses in the performance the door opened, and Alex +Herschel went forward to meet Lady Betty Longueville and Miss +Mainwaring. He presented them to his brother and sister; and Lady Betty +passed smiling and bowing up the room, while Griselda moved behind her +with stately grace and dignity.</p> + +<p>But Lady Betty was not the greatest lady in the company; for the +Marchioness of Lothian was present, and was making much of Miss +Herschel, and complimenting her on the excellence, not only of her +singing, but of her pronunciation of English. The huge Lady Cremorne was +also amongst the audience, and flattered the performers; and Lady Betty, +wishing to be in the fashion, began to talk of the music as "ravishing," +and especially that "dear, delicious violoncello" of Mr. Herschel's.</p> + +<p>Mr. Travers had some difficulty in keeping his place in the trio which +he played with the two Herschels, so attracted was he by the face of the +rapt listener who sat opposite him, drinking in the strains of those +wonderful instruments, which, under skilful hands, wake the soul's +melodies as nothing else has the power to wake them.</p> + +<p>They called Miss Linley "Saint Cecilia." Mr. Travers thought "sure +there never was one more like a saint than she who is here to-day." It +was a dream of bliss to him, till a dark shadow awoke him to the reality +of a hated presence.</p> + +<p>Sir Maxwell Danby and young Lord Basingstoke had appeared, and stood at +the farther end of the room—Sir Maxwell fingering his silver snuff-box, +and shaking out his handkerchief, edged with lace and heavily perfumed; +while Lord Basingstoke looked round as if seeking someone; and Lady +Betty, taking it for granted that she was the person he sought, stood +up, and beckoned with her fan for him to take a vacant place by her +side.</p> + +<p>This suited Sir Maxwell's purpose, and he said:</p> + +<p>"Go forward when the siren calls or beckons. Don't be modest, dear boy! +What! must I make the way easy?" whereupon Sir Maxwell bowed, and +elbowed his way to the top of the room; and Lord Basingstoke found +himself left to Lady Betty, while Sir Maxwell dropped on a chair by +Griselda's side.</p> + +<p>Miss Herschel was just beginning to sing the lovely song "Rejoice +Greatly;" and Griselda, spell-bound, became unconscious of the presence +of Sir Maxwell, or of anyone else. There was only one person for her +just then in the world—nay, it was scarcely the person, but the gift +which she possessed.</p> + + +<p>Caroline Herschel had at this time attained a very high degree of +excellence in her art, and Mr. Palmer, the proprietor of the Bath +Theatre, had pronounced her likely to be an ornament to the stage. She +never sang in public unless her brother was the conductor, and +resolutely declined an engagement offered her for the Birmingham +Festival. Anything apart from him lost its charm, and nothing could +tempt her to leave him. Her singing was but a means to an end, and that +end was to help her brother in those aspirations, which reached to the +very heavens themselves.</p> + +<p>It is the most remarkable instance on record of a love which was wholly +pure and unselfish, and yet almost entirely free from anything like +romance or sentiment, for Caroline Herschel was an eminently practical +person!</p> + +<p>At the close of the performance, Mr. Herschel told the audience that he +should not be able to receive his friends till January, and then he +hoped to resume his reunions in his new house in King Street.</p> + +<p>"But," he added, "my sister and myself can still give lessons to our +pupils at their own homes, if so they please."</p> + +<p>"What marvellous people you are!" said Lady Cremorne in her loud, +grating voice. "Most folks when they change their houses are all in a +fuss and worry. You talk of it as if you carried your household gods on +your back."</p> + +<p>"So we do, your ladyship," William Herschel said, with a smile. "I doubt +whether my sister or myself would allow any hands but our own to touch +some of our possessions."</p> + +<p>"Your telescopes, and those wonderful mirrors. Ah! here comes Dr. +Watson. I saw him in the Pump Room this forenoon, and says he, 'I vow I +saw the mountains in the moon through a wonderful instrument last +night.'"</p> + +<p>"And the little man in the moon dancing on the top of it, no doubt," +said a voice.</p> + +<p>William Herschel turned upon the dandy, with his lace ruffles and his +elegant coat, a look that none might envy, as he said:</p> + +<p>"Sir Maxwell, when you have studied the wonders of the heavens, you will +scarce turn them into a childish jest."</p> + +<p>The room was thinning now, and Griselda lingered. Lady Betty was too +much engrossed with trying to ingratiate herself with the Marchioness to +take any heed of her, and she had gone down to her chair, conducted by +Alexander Herschel, without noticing that Griselda was not following +her.</p> + +<p>This was Griselda's opportunity. She went up to Miss Herschel and said:</p> + +<p>"I want—I long to learn to play on some instrument. I could never sing +like you, but I feel I could make the violin speak. Will you ask your +brother if I may have lessons?"</p> + +<p>Caroline Herschel was not a demonstrative person, and she said quietly:</p> + +<p>"My brother will, no doubt, arrange to attend you. As you heard, Miss +Mainwaring, we are soon to be involved in a removal to a house better +suited to his purpose."</p> + +<p>"But sure this is a charming room for music, and——"</p> + +<p>"I was not then speaking of music, but of my brother's astronomical +work."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I had heard of that for the first time last night. It was you, +sir"—turning to Mr. Travers—"who spoke of the wonders Mr. Herschel +discovered in the sky. But where is Lady Betty? I must not linger," +Griselda said, looking round the room, now nearly empty.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship has taken leave, I think. May I have the honour of seeing +you to North Parade?"</p> + +<p>"I thank you, sir; but I have a chair in attendance."</p> + +<p>Mr. Travers bowed.</p> + +<p>"Then I will act footman, and walk by the side of the chair, with your +permission, and feel proud to do so."</p> + +<p>"Then may I hope that Mr. Herschel will give me lessons?" Griselda said. +"But," she hesitated, "there is one thing I ought to say—I am poor."</p> + +<p>"Poor!"</p> + +<p>Caroline Herschel allowed the word to escape unawares.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may be astonished; but it is true. I am a dependent on Lady +Betty Longueville. I was," with a little ironical laugh, which had a +ring of bitterness in it—"I was left by my uncle, Mr. Longueville, to +Lady Betty for maintenance. I am an orphan, and often very lonely. The +world of Bath is new to me. I know nothing of the ways of fine people +such as I meet here. But I have some trinkets which were my mother's, +and I would gladly sell them, if only," and she clasped her hands as if +praying for a favour to be conferred—"if only I could gain what I most +covet—lessons in music. I have a violin. I bought it with the money I +received for a pearl-brooch. The necklace which matches this brooch is +still mine. Its price would pay for many lessons. I would so thankfully +sell it to attain this end."</p> + + +<p>Griselda, usually so calm and dignified, was changed into an enthusiast +by the strong desire kindled within her, to be instructed in the +practice of music.</p> + +<p>"Here is my brother Alex!" Caroline Herschel said. "I will refer the +matter to him. This lady, Alex, wishes to become a pupil on the violin."</p> + +<p>"And to sing also," Griselda said eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It can be arranged certainly. I will let you know more, madam, when I +have consulted my brother."</p> + +<p>"There are loud voices below, Alex. Is anything amiss?"</p> + +<p>"Two gentlemen have had an unseemly wrangle," Alex said, "and in the +midst Dr. Watson arrived, and a poor child begging. It is over now, and +your chair waits, Miss Mainwaring."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>GRISELDA! GRISELDA!</h3> + + +<p>When Griselda went down to the little lobby, she found Mr. Travers with +a flushed and excited face, and Mr. Herschel trying to calm him.</p> + +<p>"Take my word for it, my young friend, there are always two necessary to +make a quarrel, and I should beware of yonder dandy, who bears no good +character."</p> + +<p>"I will take your advice as far as in me lies, sir; but if he ever dares +to speak again, as just now—in the presence of others, too!—to dare to +speak lightly of her——I will not pick the quarrel, but if he picks +it, then I am no coward."</p> + +<p>Dr. William Watson, who had come for a second time that day to visit the +"moon-gazer" of the night before, had been a somewhat unwilling witness +of the high words which had passed between Sir Maxwell Danby and Leslie +Travers, and now seemed impatient to be taken upstairs to inspect the +process of grinding and polishing the reflector for great twenty and +thirty foot mirrors, which was then achieved by persistent manual +labour.</p> + +<p>Dr. William Watson was a Fellow of the Royal Society, and had come to +invite Mr. Herschel to join the Philosophical Society in Bath, which +invitation he accepted, and by this means came more prominently before +the world.</p> + +<p>Mr. Travers led Griselda to her chair, and as the boy lighted the torch +at the door—for it was quite dark—a small and piteous voice was heard:</p> + +<p>"Oh, madam! cannot you do something for us? I heard Mr. Herschel was +kind, but he is hard and stern."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Herschel never gives alms," Leslie Travers said; "be off!"</p> + +<p>"Nay, sir; wait. The child looks wretched and sad. What is it?" Griselda +asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, madam! my father was engaged to play at the theatre, and he has +fallen down and cannot perform the part. Mr. Palmer is hard, so hard, he +says"—the child's voice faltered—"he says it was drink that made him +fall—and he has no pity; and we are starving."</p> + +<p>The group on the steps of that house in King Street was a study for an +artist. The shuddering, weeping child; the stolid chairman; the +link-boy, with the torch, which cast a lurid light upon the group; the +young man holding the hand of the tall and graceful lady, hooded and +cloaked in scarlet, edged with white fur; then the open door behind, +where an oil lamp shone dimly, and the maid's figure, in her large white +cap and apron, made a white light in the gloom. It was a picture indeed, +suggestive of the sharp contrasts of life, and yet no one could have +divined that in that scene lay concealed the elements of a story so +tragic and sorrowful, yet to be developed, and then unsuspected and +unknown.</p> + +<p>"Wait," Griselda said. "Tell me, child, if I can help you."</p> + +<p>"We are starving, madam, and my father is so ill!"</p> + +<p>"I have no money," Griselda exclaimed. "Mr. Travers, if you can help +her, please do so."</p> + +<p>"It is at your desire, for I can refuse you nothing; but I know Mr. +Herschel is right, and that alms given like this, is but the throwing of +money into a bottomless pit."</p> + +<p>As he was speaking the young man had taken a leathern purse from the +wide side-pocket of his blue coat, and had singled out a sixpence and a +large heavy penny with the head of the King in his youth upon it—big +old-fashioned penny-pieces, of which none are current now.</p> + +<p>Mr. Travers put the money into Griselda's hand, and she held it towards +the child.</p> + +<p>"What brought you to Mr. Herschel's?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Brian Bellis sings at the Octagon every Sunday; he told me Mr. Herschel +was kind, but he was wrong; it is you who are kind."</p> + +<p>"Tell me where you live, and I will come, perhaps; or at any rate send +someone to give you help."</p> + +<p>"We live in Crown Alley; but Brian Bellis will tell you, madam. Oh!" the +child said, "you are beautiful as the princess in the play; and you are +good too, I know."</p> + +<p>"Come, be off, you little wretch. We don't care to stay here all night +for you, and orders waiting," said one of the chair-men.</p> + +<p>"Will you find out Brian Bellis for me? Will you discover from Miss +Herschel if the tale is true—now—I mean now? I will pay you extra for +waiting," Griselda said to the men.</p> + +<p>"Can't wait to obleege you, miss; if you don't step in we shall have to +charge double fare."</p> + +<p>Then Griselda got into the chair; the lid was let down with a jerk; the +men took up the poles, and set off at a quick trot to North Parade.</p> + +<p>The child was still standing on the doorstep, and Leslie Travers said:</p> + +<p>"You must not stand here. The lady will keep her promise, you may be +sure. Now then!"</p> + +<p>The child turned sorrowfully away, and the click of her pattens was +heard on the stone pavement getting fainter and fainter in the distance.</p> + +<p>Leslie Travers was thoughtful beyond the average of the young men of his +type in those days, and as Miss Herschel's servant shut the door—much +wondering what all the delay had been about—he gathered his loose cloak +round him, and walked towards the house his mother had taken in King +Street, pondering much on the inequalities of life.</p> + +<p>"Some star-gazing," he thought, "and with their chief aims set above the +heavens; some singing and dancing; some working mischief—deadly +mischief—by their lives; and some, like that poor child, dying of +starvation. Yes, and some are praying to God for the safety of their own +souls, or thanking Him that they are safe, and forgetting, as it seems, +the souls of others—nay, that they have souls at all! And others, like +that angel, whose face is like the fair lady of Dante's dream, or +vision, seem to draw the beholder upward by the very force of their own +purity and beauty."</p> + +<p>This may sound very high-flown language for a lover, but Leslie Travers +lived in a day of ornate expression of sentiment, as the effusions in +Lady Miller's vase at Batheaston abundantly testified.</p> + +<p>Leslie Travers was the son of a Lincolnshire squire, who owned a few +acres, and had lived the isolated life of the country gentlemen of those +times.</p> + +<p>Leslie was the only son, and he had been sent to Cambridge; but his +health failed before he had finished his course there, and he had +returned to his old home just in time to see his father die of the ague, +which haunted the neighbourhood of the fens before any attempt at proper +drainage had been thought of, much less made.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers was urged to shut up the Grange—which answered very well +to the description of a moated Grange of a later time—and resort to +Bath, for the healing waters might take their effect on her son's +health. Mrs. Travers had now been resident in Bath for a whole year, and +her figure in widow's-weeds was familiar in the bath-room waiting for +her son's appearance after his morning douche.</p> + +<p>But not only was her figure familiar in the bath-room, there was another +place where she constantly took up her position, and where she could not +persuade her son to follow her, and that place was the chapel which had +been built by Selina, Countess of Huntingdon.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers was at this time greatly exercised in mind about her son. +Since his health had improved, he had entered more into the gaieties of +the city of Bath, and made friends of whom she could not approve. The +Pump Room was a place where many idlers and votaries of fashion found a +convenient resort after the morning bath; and here many introductions +were exchanged between the new-comers and those who had been frequenters +of Bath for many previous seasons. The present master of the ceremonies +did not hold the sway of his famous predecessor; but outward decorum was +preserved; and it was in the master's power to refuse or grant an +introduction if it was objected to by any parent or guardian.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers was one of those sweet and gentle women, who are themselves +a standing rebuke to the harsh and iron creed which they profess to hold +by. Mrs. Travers had lived in an atmosphere all her life of utter +indifference and neglect of even the outward observances of religion.</p> + +<p>The clergyman of the Lincolnshire parish where the Grange stood was a +fair type of the country parsons of the time. He hunted with the squire, +drank freely of his wine, and was "Hail fellow! well met!" with those +of his parishioners who had like tastes with himself. A service in the +church when it suited him, baptisms when the parents pressed it, +funerals, a necessity no one can put aside, and administration of the +Holy Communion on the three prescribed festivals of the year, were the +limit of his parochial labours.</p> + +<p>Who can wonder that a sympathetic and emotional woman, brought to hear +for the first time a burning and eloquent appeal to turn to God, should +very soon yield herself, heart and soul, to what was indeed to her a +<i>new</i> religion!</p> + +<p>She accepted the doctrine of her teacher without reservation, and the +offer made her in God's name of salvation—a salvation which drew a +circle round the recipient, into which no worldly thing must enter—a +circle narrower and ever narrower, which, as it closed like an iron band +at last, round many a true-hearted man and woman, had all unawares shut +in the very essence of that world they had in all good faith believed +they had renounced. For "the world's" chief idol is self, and there may +be worship and slavery to this idol in the closest conventual cloister, +and in the hardest and most ascetic life that was ever led in this, or +any other age.</p> + +<p>But, as I said, no creed could make Mrs. Travers hard or austere. Her +sweet, pale face in its widow's cap, and straight black gown with the +long "weepers" and linen bands, gave her almost a saint-like appearance; +and the smile with which she greeted her boy was like sunshine over the +surface of a little tarn hidden in some mountain-side.</p> + +<p>"Late—am I late, mother? I am sorry, ma'am; but I was detained at Mr. +Herschel's by—by a child begging for money at the door as we were +leaving. She spoke of starvation and deep distress. She had a lovely +face, and it sounded like truth."</p> + +<p>"Poor little creature! Can we help, Leslie?"</p> + +<p>"One of the singers at the Octagon Chapel will direct me to the +place—Crown Alley, a low street enough, by the Abbey churchyard."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" and his mother sighed; "a low place, doubtless."</p> + +<p>"The child's father is an actor—he was hired to play here—and has had +a fall, and is helpless."</p> + +<p>"An actor!" Mrs. Travers' pale face flushed with crimson. "An actor! Ah, +my dear son, one engaged in the devil's work cannot claim charity from +Christians."</p> + +<p>"I do not take your meaning, ma'am. An actor may suffer, and his child +starve as well as other folk, and need help."</p> + +<p>"I grieve for suffering, dear son, as you know; but——"</p> + +<p>"But you condemn all actors wholesale. Nay, my sweet mother"—and Leslie +changed his tone—"nay, my sweet mother, it is not you who steel your +heart; it is the doctrine taught you in the fashionable chapel yonder of +lords and ladies, who reserve for themselves the right to the kingdom of +heaven."</p> + +<p>"My son, do not speak thus; nor scoff at what you cannot yet understand. +If prayers avail for your conversion, constant and persevering, mine +will at last be heard."</p> + +<p>"I thank you for your prayers, dear mother—they come from a true heart. +And now to supper, and then to my violoncello. The Herschels are +removing at once to this street—almost will their music be within +ear-shot; and there will be great works in the garden, and the largest +mirror in the kingdom will be cast. Who can tell what may be discovered? +Now, mother, you do not see sin and wickedness in star-gazing, surely?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I would not care for myself to be too curious as to the secrets which +God does not reveal."</p> + +<p>Leslie stamped his foot impatiently, and then said:</p> + +<p>"We cannot agree there, mother. Every gift of God is good; and if He has +given the gift of mathematical precision, and earnestness in applying it +for the better development of the grandest of all sciences, who shall +dare to say the man who exercises that gift is wrong? For my own part, I +feel uplifted in the presence of that great and good man—Mr. +Herschel—and his wonderful sister."</p> + +<p>"'When I consider Thy heavens the work of Thy fingers,'" Mrs. Travers +quoted from the Psalms, "I say, with David, 'What is man, that Thou art +mindful of him? or the son of man, that Thou considerest him?' Such +knowledge, my dear son, as that, after which you tell me Mr. and Miss +Herschel seek, is too wonderful for me, nor do I wish to attain it. Mr. +Relley delivered a very powerful discourse on this matter last Sunday. I +would you had heard it, instead of listening to the music at the +Octagon, where the world gathers its votaries every Sabbath-day to +admire music, and forget God."</p> + +<p>Leslie knew, by past experience, that to argue with his mother was +hopeless, and he therefore remained silent. Something told him, when all +was said, that he needed something that he did not possess. When first +threatened with consumption, and the grasshopper of his young life had +become a burden, he had looked death in the face, and shuddered. Life +was sweet to him—music, and the beautiful things which were to him as +a strain of music, were dear to his heart.</p> + +<p>At a time when the natural beauties of field, and flower, and +over-arching sky were far less to many than the coteries of fashion and +the haunts of pleasure, so called, Leslie Travers had higher tastes, and +yet he would fain have been other than he was. Religion, as offered to +him by his mother's teachers, repelled him; and he cherished a secret +bitterness against the grand ladies who sat on either side of the <i>haut +pas</i>—described by Horace Walpole, in balconies reserved for "the elect" +of noble birth—in Lady Huntingdon's Chapel in the Vineyards.</p> + +<p>The waters of Bath had worked wonders on Leslie's bodily ailments. He +began to feel strong again, with the strength of young manhood; and now +there had risen upon his horizon that bright particular star—that, to +him, marvel of perfect womanhood—Griselda Mainwaring. He had scarcely +dared to take her name on his lips—it was a sacred name to him; and +<i>yet</i>, in the lobby of Mr. Herschel's house, he had heard the man, who +had so broadly flattered her that she had shrunk from his words as a +sensitive plant shrinks from a rough touch of a hand—say, in answer to +a question from a casual acquaintance:</p> + +<p>"Who is she? Low-born I hear, and a mere poor dependent on the bounty of +Lady Betty."</p> + +<p>"Heaven help her!" had been the reply, "if that is all her dependence."</p> + +<p>Then with a laugh, as he tapped his little silver snuff-box, Sir Maxwell +Danby had said:</p> + +<p>"She will easily find another maintenance. A beauty—true; but a beauty +of no family can't afford to be particular."</p> + +<p>It was at these words—insulting in their tone as well as in +themselves—that Leslie Travers had raised his voice, and angrily +demanded what the speaker meant, or how he could dare to speak lightly +of a lady who had no father or brother to be her champion.</p> + +<p>"She has <i>you</i>!" had been the reply, with a sneer. "Poor boy!"</p> + +<p>How the quarrel might have ended even then, I cannot tell, had not the +master of the house, Mr. Herschel, tried to throw oil on the troubled +waters. But the bitterness was left—a bitterness which Leslie Travers +felt was hatred; and yet, if his mother's Bible told true, hatred was a +seed which might grow into an awful upas-tree, shadowing life with its +deadly presence. With that strangely mysterious power, which words from +the great code of Christian morals are sometimes forced, as it were, to +be heard within, Leslie heard: "He that hateth his brother is a +<i>murderer</i>, and we know that no murderer hath eternal life!"</p> + +<p>Again and again, as Sir Maxwell Danby's figure rose before him, and his +narrow though finely-chiselled face seemed to mock him with its scornful +smile, so did the words echo in his secret heart: "He that hateth his +brother is a murderer, and we know that no murderer hath eternal life!"</p> + +<p>Late into the night the strains of Leslie's violoncello rose and fell. +The largo of Haydn seemed to soothe him into calm, calling up before him +the beautiful face of Griselda Mainwaring, as with rapt, impassioned +gaze she had drank in the music of Caroline Herschel's voice, as she +sang, "Come unto Me ... and I will give you rest."</p> + +<p>"I love her! I adore her! I will win her if I serve for her as Jacob +served for Rachel! My queen of beauty! Griselda! Griselda!"</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>GRAVE AND GAY.</h3> + + +<p>"The quality" of Bath and of other towns and cities in England, a +hundred years ago, knew nothing—and, except in rare and isolated +instances, cared less—of those who were reduced to the lowest depths of +poverty, and whose struggle for daily bread was often in vain.</p> + +<p>It was in a low, unhealthy quarter of Bath—that queen of the West—that +the child, who had begged for money at Mr. Herschel's door the evening +before, was seated in an attic-chamber, with a heap of finery before +her. Her little slender fingers were busy mending rents in gaudy gowns, +sewing beads on high collars, and curling feathers with a large bodkin.</p> + +<p>Stretched on a bed in the corner of the room lay a man, whose pale face, +sunken eyes, and parched white lips, told of suffering and want. A sigh, +which was almost a groan, broke from the man, and the child got up and +left her work for a minute that she might wet a rag in vinegar and water +and lay it on her father's forehead.</p> + +<p>"Is it your leg pains, father, or is your head worse?"</p> + +<p>"Both, child; but my heart pains most. I am fallen very low, Norah, and +there is nothing but misery before us. Child! what will you do when I am +gone?"</p> + +<p>Norah shook her head.</p> + +<p>"We will not talk of that, father. You will get well, and then you will +act Hamlet again, and——"</p> + +<p>"Never! The blow to my head has clean taken away my memory. 'To be or +not to be!'"—then followed a harsh laugh—"I could not get the next +line to save my life! But, Norah, it is your condition which eats like a +canker into my heart. You spoke of a kind gentleman and a beautiful lady +yesterday, who did not spurn you. Find them again, implore them to come +here, and I will move their very heart to pity by the tale of my +sorrows! They will, sure, put out a hand to you."</p> + +<p>"The lady was beautiful as an angel, father; but I don't think grand +folks like her will care for us. But," she said, brightening, "I shall +get some money for this job Mrs. Betts gave me; and I am to go to the +green-room and help the ladies to dress."</p> + +<p>"No!" the man said, his eyes flashing—"No! I command you not to enter +the theatre! Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>The child knew when her father's dark eyes flashed like that, and he +spoke in the tones of tragedy, that remonstrance was useless; and the +doctor said he was never to be excited or contradicted, or he might lose +his senses altogether.</p> + +<p>"As you please, father," Norah said meekly, and then returned to her +needlework; and the heavy breathing in the corner where the bed was +placed told that her father slept.</p> + +<p>About noon there was a sound of feet on the stairs, and a tap at the +door, and a curly head was thrust in. Norah held up her finger and +pointed to the bed, but said in a low whisper:</p> + +<p>"Come in, Brian."</p> + +<p>"I've brought you my dinner," the boy said. "I did not want it. It's a +meat-pie and a bun. I don't care for meat-pies and—come, Norah, eat +it!"</p> + +<p>Norah's blue eyes filled with tears. She was so hungry, but she knew her +father might be hungry too. She glanced at the bed, and Brian understood +the glance.</p> + +<p>"Meat-pies are bad for sick folks," he said, shaking his head. "Very +bad! He mustn't touch it."</p> + +<p>"I'll keep the bun then, and p'raps that may tempt him with a drop of +the wine you brought yesterday. But, Brian, he is very ill!"</p> + +<p>"Well, eat your pie, and then we'll talk," the boy said.</p> + +<p>"Not loud, or he may wake."</p> + +<p>"I have something to tell you. There's a young gentleman who plays the +violoncello grandly! He comes to the Octagon, you know, and I believe it +was that very gentleman you saw at Mr. Herschel's yesterday. I'm going +to hunt him up; and I'll bring him here, and he is certain to be good to +you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to beg! Oh, Brian, I do not like to beg, and be spurned +like Mr. Herschel spurned me yesterday!"</p> + +<p>"He was in a hurry—he did not mean anything unkind. But I have got to +sing a solo at a rehearsal, and I must be gone. Cheer up, Norah! What's +all this rubbish?"</p> + +<p>"It's the theatre dresses. Mrs. Betts, the keeper of the wardrobe, gave +me the job. She will pay me, you know."</p> + +<p>Brian nodded, and then left the room. His quaint little figure, in +knee-breeches and swallow-tail short coat, with a wide crimped frill +falling over the collar and the wrist-bands, would excite a smile now if +seen in the streets of Bath.</p> + +<p>Heavy leather shoes, tied with wide black ribbon, and dull yellow +stockings, which met the legs of the breeches, and were fastened with +buckles, completed his attire. But the fine open face, with its winning +smile, and white forehead shaded by clustering curls, could not be +disguised. Brian had a charm about him few people could resist.</p> + +<p>He lived with his aunts, who were fashionable mantua-makers and +milliners in John Street, and their rooms were frequented by many of the +<i>élite</i>, who came to them to consult about the fashion and the mode, +although the Miss Hoblyns' fame was not, in 1779, what it became when +the Duchess of York consulted them as to her "top-gear" a few years +later.</p> + +<p>At this time they were young women, and had only laid the foundation of +the large fortune which the patronage of the Royal Duchess is said to +have built up at last. Brian Bellis was therefore lifted far above +anything like poverty, and his aunts gave him a trifle for his pocket, +as well as his schooling, and were proud of his prominence in the choir +of the Octagon Chapel, where on Sundays the sisters always appeared in +the latest fashions. Indeed their dress on Sundays was eagerly scanned +by ladies of the fashionable congregation as we might scan a +fashion-book in these days.</p> + +<p>Brian had seen Norah several times with a burden he thought too heavy +for her to carry, and he had gallantly taken the basket from her hand +and carried it for her.</p> + +<p>Those were the days when there was money to pay for marketings, and +before the accident happened which had laid her father low. But Brian +was not a fair-weather friend, and that meat-pie and bun were not the +first that he had bought out of his pocket-money for the now forlorn +child.</p> + +<p>He was running away to the rehearsal for next Sunday's music, when he +jostled against Leslie Travers, who was coming out of the Pump Room.</p> + +<p>Brian came to a dead stop, and said respectfully:</p> + +<p>"Sir, there is a man and a little girl in great want in Crown Alley; the +child was at Mr. Herschel's door last night."</p> + +<p>"This is a lucky chance," Leslie Travers said, "for I am looking for +Brian Bellis. Are you Brian Bellis? I know your face amongst the singers +in the Octagon"—adding to himself, "a face not likely to forget."</p> + +<p>It was lighted now with the fire of enthusiasm, as he said:</p> + +<p>"Oh! sir; yes, I am Brian Bellis, and I can show you the way to Crown +Alley; not now, for I have to be at the rehearsal. But, sir, I will come +to the Pump Room this afternoon, and I will go with you then. I wish I +could stay now, but I dare not. Mr. Herschel never overlooks absence +from a rehearsal for Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Very good; I will be there. Come to the lobby about four, and you will +find me."</p> + +<p>The Pump Room was full that afternoon.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty was of course there, laying siege to the young Lord +Basingstoke, and laughing her senseless little laugh, and flirting her +fan as she lounged on a sofa, with the young man leaning over her.</p> + +<p>Sir Maxwell Danby had had a twinge of gout, and was in an ill temper. He +did not care two straws for Lady Betty, but he did not like to see his +territory invaded, knowing, too, that a peer weighed heavily in the +balance against a baronet.</p> + +<p>Griselda had rebuffed him too decidedly for him to risk another public +manifestation of her repugnance to him, and he watched her with his +small close-set eyes with anything but a benign expression.</p> + +<p>Griselda was surrounded by a mother and two smart, gawky daughters, who +were strangers at Bath, and were of the veritable type of +"country-cousins," which was so distinct a type in the society of those +days. Now refinement, or what resembles it, has penetrated into country +towns and villages, and the farmers' wives and daughters of to-day are +more successful in presenting themselves in what is called "good +society," than were the squires' and small landed proprietors' families +when "the country" districts were separated by impassable roads from +frequent intercourse with the gay world beyond.</p> + +<p>These good people talked in loud resonant tones, with a decided +provincial twang.</p> + +<p>"La, ma! what a fine lady that is!" said one of the girls. "Did you ever +see such a hat?"</p> + +<p>"And look at the gentleman courting her!"</p> + +<p>"Hush now, my dear! He is a lord, and the t'other is a baronet."</p> + +<p>"Well, we <i>are</i> in fine company. I wish we knew some of 'em. I say, +ma——"</p> + +<p>At this moment the very stout mamma dropped her fan, and Griselda, who +was nearest to it, picked it up and handed it to her with a gracious +smile.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear, I am sure. Won't you take a seat here?" she +continued, gathering together the ample folds of her moreen pelisse +trimmed with fur, and edging up to her daughters, who were on the same +bench.</p> + +<p>A quick glance showed Griselda that Sir Maxwell was meditating a raid on +her, so she accepted the offer, and almost at the same moment the +Marchioness of Lothian appeared, and Sir Maxwell advanced to her, bowed +low, and led her to a seat.</p> + +<p>At least he would show Griselda, that if she chose to slight him, a live +Marchioness was of a different mind.</p> + +<p>The band now struck up, and Mrs. Greenwood beat time with her large +foot, and nodded her head till the plume of feathers in her hat waved +like the plumes of a palm-tree in the tropics.</p> + +<p>Her daughters did not allow the band to hinder their remarks on the +company, as some promenaded up and down, and others reclined, like Lady +Betty, on the crimson-covered lounges.</p> + +<p>Presently Griselda received a nudge from one of the young ladies' rather +sharp elbows:</p> + +<p>"Pray, miss, who's that fine gentleman walking with? He is looking this +way. Bab, don't giggle, I think he was speaking of us."</p> + +<p>"Who is the lady?"</p> + +<p>"The Marchioness of Lothian," Griselda said.</p> + +<p>"Lor', ma; do you hear?" Miss Barbara exclaimed, leaning across +Griselda, "that's a Marchioness!"</p> + +<p>It really gave these good people intense pleasure to be in the same room +with those who rejoiced in titles. It gave Mrs. Greenwood a sense of +added importance, and made her even dream of the possibility of some +lord falling in love with Bab. Thus a return to the remote country town +of Widdicombe Episopi, where Mr. Greenwood farmed his own acres, and +lived in a house which had come down to the Greenwoods from the time of +Charles II., would be a triumphal return indeed.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder, miss, if you was a titled lady," Mrs. Greenwood +said, as the music stopped, and conversation in more subdued tones was +possible.</p> + +<p>Griselda smiled.</p> + +<p>"No, I have no title of honour," she said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well! you <i>look</i> as if you might have, and that's something. I do +like to see a genteel air; as I say to Bab and Bell, it's half the +battle—it's more than a pretty face. We are come to Bath for Bell's +health. She has been so peaky and puling of late. Do you take the +waters, miss?"</p> + +<p>"No," Griselda said. "I am quite well."</p> + +<p>"Then you came for pleasure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Griselda replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am very proud to have made your acquaintance. We have +apartments in the Circus. There's no stint as to money. Mr. Greenwood +said—that's the squire, you know—'Go and enjoy yourselves. But I thank +my stars I've not to go along with you, that's all.'"</p> + +<p>At this moment Leslie Travers entered the room, and looking round with +the quick glance of love saw Griselda, and Griselda alone.</p> + +<p>But who were the people she was seated with? Lady Betty called him by +name, and stopped giggling behind her fan to do so.</p> + +<p>"Here, Mr. Travers; go, I beseech you, and rescue Griselda from those +Goths, into whose hands she has fallen. What a set! Goodness! it's as +fine as a play!"</p> + +<p>Leslie crossed the room, and bowing before Griselda, said:</p> + +<p>"Lady Betty would be pleased if you joined her, Miss Mainwaring."</p> + +<p>Griselda rose, and, bowing to her three companions, walked towards the +opposite side of the room.</p> + +<p>"I knew she was somebody," Mrs. Greenwood exclaimed. "Lady Betty—did +you hear? And what a vastly genteel young man!—one of her admirers, no +doubt. Well, girls, shall we take a turn? For my part I am getting +sleepy;" and a prolonged yawn, which was heard as well as seen, +announced the fact to those who were near that Mrs. Greenwood had had +enough of the Pump Room for that day.</p> + +<p>"My dear girl!" Lady Betty exclaimed when Griselda joined her. "Who will +you take up with next? Those vulgar folks! Did you ever see anything +like the feet of the young one? I declare I'd wear a longer gown if I +had such duck's feet!—and the waddle matches—look!"</p> + +<p>Lady Betty's giggle was a well-known sound in any society she honoured +with her presence, and when she could get a companion like the +empty-headed Lord Basingstoke, she delighted to sit and "quiz" those +whom she thought beneath her in the social scale.</p> + +<p>"Griselda! She is offended. Look how she is strutting off! He! he! he!"</p> + +<p>And Lord Basingstoke echoed the laugh in a languid fashion, Lady Betty +leaning back and looking up at him with what she thought her most +bewitching smile.</p> + +<p>"I think it is very ill-bred to make remarks on people!" Griselda said, +"and very unkind to hurt their feelings, as you must have hurt that +lady's."</p> + +<p>Griselda spoke with some vehemence, which she was apt to do, when her +feelings were strongly moved.</p> + +<p>"You see how I'm lectured," Lady Betty said, with the usual +accompaniment—"the giggling fugue," as her enemies called it. +"Griselda," she said, trying to hide her vexation, "you are very good to +look after my behaviour. Poor little me! I want someone, don't I, Mr. +Travers? It is news to hear I am 'ill-bred.' What next, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>But Griselda held her own, and repeated:</p> + +<p>"I must think it ill-bred in any society to turn other folks into +ridicule, and I am quite sure no one can call it kind!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, may I ask you to mind your own business?" was said <i>sotto +voce</i> as Lady Betty rose, declaring it was time for her third glass of +water, and Lord Basingstoke escorted her to the inner room, where the +invalids assembled to drink the waters.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE VASE OF PARNASSUS.</h3> + + +<p>"I am glad to be allowed the chance of speaking to you, Miss +Mainwaring," Leslie Travers began. "I wanted to tell you that I have +found a clue to your poor little protégée of last evening. I am going to +visit her, guided by the boy, to whom she referred me."</p> + +<p>"That is good news!" Griselda said. "Will you be sure to let me know if +I can do aught for her? Oh, I would that I was not dependent on others! +I do long to help the poor and sad! I must try once more to get Lady +Betty to make me ever so small an allowance. But," she added, with +sudden animation, "I have many jewels and trinkets which were my +grandmother's, and came to me at her death. Will you sell some for me? I +had thought of selling a necklace to pay Mr. Herschel for his lessons; +but it will be better to feed the starving than learn music."</p> + +<p>"You must let me make all due inquiries first, madam," Leslie Travers +said. "I do not desire that your charity should be ill-placed, and many +beggars' tales are false."</p> + +<p>"That child was telling the truth!" Griselda said. "I knew it! I felt +it!"</p> + +<p>"You can then judge of truth or falseness by the unerring instinct +which is one of the gifts of true womanhood? I would hope—I would +venture to hope—that, tried by that instinct, you would trust me, and +believe that all I say is true. May I dare to hope it is so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Griselda said, looking straight into the pure, clear eyes which +sought hers. "Yes; I could trust <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Could? Change that word to <i>do</i>. Say you <i>do</i> trust me."</p> + +<p>His voice trembled with emotion, and Griselda's eyes fell beneath his +ardent admiring gaze. The story of his love was written on his face, and +Griselda Mainwaring could not choose but read it. The compact between +them might have been sealed then, had not a quiet, gentle voice near +pronounced Mr. Travers' name.</p> + +<p>"Leslie, my dear son!"</p> + +<p>Griselda turned her face, flushed with crimson, towards Leslie's mother. +He hastened to relieve Griselda's evident embarrassment by saying:</p> + +<p>"May I have the honour of presenting you to my mother, Miss Mainwaring? +I have promised to meet my guide to the house we were speaking of. I +will return hither, mother; meantime, may I hope you and Miss Mainwaring +will have some conversation which will be agreeable to both?"</p> + +<p>"I will await your return, Leslie. But do not exceed half an hour, for +the dark streets are not pleasant, especially for old folk like me, who +have to pick my way carefully. Have you been long a visitor to Bath, +madam?" Mrs. Travers said, as she seated herself with Griselda on one of +the benches.</p> + +<p>"We arrived in November, madam."</p> + +<p>"Have you a mother and sister?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" Griselda said passionately. "I am alone in the world—an +orphan."</p> + +<p>"Ah, may the God of the fatherless be your Friend. You will make Him +your Friend, my dear? This is a place fraught with danger. I feel it for +my son—and how much more is it full of danger for you?"</p> + +<p>"There are many beautiful things and interesting people in Bath. Do you +know Mr. and Miss Herchel, madam?"</p> + +<p>"I know them by report," was the reply. "My son is a musician, and +attends Mr. Herschel's classes."</p> + +<p>"It is not only music for which Mr. Herschel is famous. He is an +astronomer, and reads the star-lit heavens like a book—a poem—a poem +more wonderful than any written by earthly hands."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers was surprised. She did not expect a child of the world—a +fashionable young lady—to speak so seriously on any subject. But it was +her duty to improve the occasion, and she said:</p> + +<p>"I would rather read the Word of God than the star-lit skies, since the +safety of the soul is surely a more important duty than to pry into the +secret things of God."</p> + +<p>"But He stretched out the heavens. He raises our thoughts above by their +contemplation."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear young lady, this is the vain tradition of men. Let me urge +you to come to our chapel in the Vineyards on the next Sabbath, and hear +the truth rightly divided by Mr. Relly. Do not be affronted at my +boldness!"</p> + +<p>"Oh no! I am obliged to you for caring about me. I have so few who do so +care."</p> + +<p>"I can scarcely believe it!" Mrs. Travers said. "So young and fair. +Surely there are those who stand in the place of parents to you?"</p> + +<p>"No; I know of none such. But here comes my aunt, Lady Betty +Longueville. She will desire me to return, as we are expected at a small +party to-night at Lady Miller's."</p> + +<p>Sir Maxwell Danby, who had been watching his opportunity, now came +forward:</p> + +<p>"If you have quite done with yonder Niobe, will you permit me to escort +you to your chair? No? You are walking? That is better; I shall have +more of your company. Let me place your hood over your head—so! What a +wealth of loveliness it hides!"</p> + +<p>Griselda turned away impatiently; but as Lady Betty was in advance with +Lord Basingstoke, she was obliged to follow them.</p> + +<p>Sir Maxwell made the best of his opportunity, and held Griselda's hand +as it rested on his arm, though she drew back from such familiarity.</p> + +<p>"That old gentlewoman," he said, "was reading you a lecture on the sins +of the world and its frivolities. I could see it; I have been watching +you from afar."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, sir, you had no better subject of contemplation," was the +reply.</p> + +<p>It was but a step to North Parade; and, just as they reached it, Leslie +Travers turned the corner from South Parade. It gave him a thrill of +disgust to see Griselda on the arm of a man who he knew was no fit +companion for any pure-minded woman, and a pang of jealousy shot through +him, and got the better of his discretion.</p> + +<p>"If you had waited, Miss Mainwaring, I should have returned at the time +I appointed, and I could have told you of what I had seen."</p> + +<p>"You did find her? You know, then, her story was true?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the half had not been told; but more of this hereafter."</p> + + +<p>"I should be obliged to you, sir," Sir Maxwell began, "not to hinder +this young lady any longer. She is under my charge, and I must move on."</p> + +<p>"Who hinders you, sir?" was the answer. "Not I. Your goings and comings +are matters of supreme indifference to me."</p> + +<p>Sir Maxwell laughed.</p> + +<p>"Boys are always outspoken, I know; and, like puppy dogs, have to be +licked into shape."</p> + +<p>"You shall be made to apologize for this insult, sir; and were you not +in the lady's presence——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, pray, Mr. Travers, do not be angry; no harm is meant. I shall look +for you to-morrow to tell me the whole story of the poor little girl. +Good-afternoon."</p> + +<p>Then Griselda stepped on quickly to the door, and Sir Maxwell bowed his +"Good-bye," taking her hand and kissing it.</p> + +<p>"Why so cruel to me," he asked, "when I would be your slave? Nay, I <i>am</i> +your slave, and do your bidding."</p> + +<p>"If so, Sir Maxwell, you will allow me to pass into the house, and I +wish to do so alone."</p> + +<p>"I dare not disobey your orders, though I am invited to a dish of tea by +her ladyship; only"—and he hissed the words out between his thin +lips—"beware of puppy dogs—they show their teeth sometimes. +Adieu—adieu!"</p> + +<p>Lady Betty was in high good-humour in the drawing-room. A dainty +tea-service had been set out—delicate cups with no handles—and a +silver tea-pot and cream-jug; and Lord Basingstoke had taken up his +favourite lounging attitude by the fire.</p> + +<p>"What have you done with Sir Maxwell Danby, child?"</p> + +<p>"He left me at the door."</p> + +<p>"Where are your manners, not to invite him to come in?" Lady Betty said +sharply. "I shall never teach you the proper behaviour, I believe."</p> + +<p>"You might spare me before witnesses," Griselda said angrily. "If, +indeed, I offend you, I will not inflict my company any longer on you."</p> + +<p>Then, with a dignified curtsey, Griselda swept out of the room. It was +terribly irritating to catch the sound of Lady Betty's laugh as she did +so, and the words, "A very tragedy queen—a real stage 'curtshey.'"</p> + +<p>Griselda hastened to her room, where she found Graves getting her change +of toilette ready for the evening, and kindling a fire in the small +grate.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, Graves! what a weariful world it is! Graves, tell me—now, do +tell me—something about my mother."</p> + +<p>"I have told you all I know many a time, my dearie. She was a fair +flower, nipped and withered by the breath of this same world you speak +of. May God preserve you in it!"</p> + +<p>Griselda had thrown herself into a chair, and laid aside her cloak and +hood. All her beautiful hair fell over her shoulders like rippling waves +of gold.</p> + +<p>"Dear Graves, I have met a gentleman often, who is not like the rest of +the world's votaries. His name is Travers; his mother frequents the +chapel in the Vineyards. Take me thither with you next Sunday! Say you +will, Graves!"</p> + +<p>"I will take you if her ladyship is up in good time; but I can't get off +early if she chooses to lie a-bed. But you would not go to scoff, Miss +Griselda?"</p> + +<p>"Nay; I have done with scoffing. But, Graves, do you ever think of the +miserable poor who have no food and no clothing, like a poor child I saw +on Mr. Herschel's doorstep t'other night? This Mr. Travers has tracked +her at my desire, and I want to sell some trinkets to feed and clothe +her. Hand me the large box; I rarely open it. I did sell the +amethyst-brooch to buy my violin, and now there are the two necklets my +grandmother left my mother, and which came to me by will; and there are +some other trinkets—a silver scent-box and golden ear-drops. Make +haste, dear Graves, and let me do what I wish."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Graves, "I suppose you can do what you will with your own; +but, all the same, I don't hold with selling property—you may want it +yourself some day."</p> + +<p>"True—ah, that is true! I wonder how it came about that I had no +maintenance!"</p> + +<p>"Your poor dear mamma had her portion on her marriage with that +good-for-nothing, and he made away with every penny. Then Mr. +Longueville took you as you know, and gave you a home."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he was good to me. I remember coming, I think, when I was four +years old."</p> + +<p>"You poor little thing!" Graves exclaimed. "Yes, I can see you now, in +your black pelisse, so shy and so strange! If your poor uncle had never +married, it would have been all right; but there, my lady could draw +water out of a stone by her wiles and ways. It's no use moaning over +spilt milk. Here's the box. Now, don't be in a hurry to sell, as I tell +you these trinkets are all you've got in the world. I must go and look +after her ladyship's buckles; she wants a blue rosette sewn on her +shoes, and the buckles taken off. It is all vanity and vexing of spirit. +She'll be as cross as two sticks to-night; she always is, when she has +been to the Pump Room, drinking these waters for fidgets and +fancies—they upset folks' stomachs, and then other folks have to put up +with their tantrums."</p> + +<p>When Graves was gone, Griselda pulled the little table towards her; and, +taking a small key from her chatelaine, unlocked the box.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she thought, "it is as Graves says, I have nothing in the world +but these jewels. It seemed till to-day that I had no one in the world +to care for me; but now I think <i>he</i> does care for me. He is not like +those gay, foolish men who treat women as if they were dolls to be +dressed up, or puppets to move at their bidding. No, <i>he</i> is of another +sort, I think." And the swift blush came to her fair cheek. "What if he +loves me! It would be sweet to be taken from this hollow +existence—dressing and dancing, and looking out for flattery and +admiration. If <i>he</i> were near, that dreadful man would not dare to talk +to me as he does—he would <i>not</i> dare if I were not an orphan; and my +only protector—that silly creature who drives me nearly wild with her +folly——Well, let me hope better times are coming. Now for the jewels."</p> + +<p>The box was lined with cedar, and as the cover was raised a faint, sweet +odour of cedar mingled with otto of roses came with a message from the +past. Through the dim haze of long years that scent recalled to Griselda +a room, where a tall dark man had sat by the embers of a fire, the box +before him, and some words which the fragrance mysteriously seemed to +bring back.</p> + +<p>"It was her wish, and the child must go." The child! What child?—and +whither did she go? It was herself—it must have been herself—the man +meant.</p> + +<p>Then it was all haze again. The light that had penetrated the mists of +the past, and brought the scene before her, was obscured once more.</p> + +<p>That man must have been her father; but she had no memories of him +either before or after that day, which had risen like a phantom before +her, called up by the faint sweet scent of the old jewel-box.</p> + +<p>The necklets were very fair to look at—one of pearls, with a diamond +clasp, and initials on the gold at the back, which were her dead +mother's. No, she could not sell that; but there were heavy ear-drops of +solid gold, and a set of gold buttons—these would surely fetch +something. The amethyst necklace, with its lovely purple hue, had never +belonged to her mother; and she put it, with the gold buttons and +ear-rings, into a small leather box, and was pressing down one of the +compartments, when a drawer flew open she had never noticed before. In +the drawer were some diamond ornaments and rings; a piece of yellow +paper was fastened to one of the rings:</p> + +<p>"Deserted by the husband I trusted, I, Phyllis Mainwaring, leave to my +only child, Griselda, these diamonds. I place them out of sight, safe +from dishonest hands. When I left him to get bread he knew nothing of +them, or he would have sold them. They are my poor darling's only +inheritance, and I leave them secure that one day she will find them. +Let her take with them her unhappy mother's blessing."</p> + +<p>This was indeed a discovery. Griselda had always remembered that this +box had stood in her room at Longueville House. She remembered her uncle +bidding her bring it to him, and that he placed in it the trinkets left +to her by her grandmother, but never had anyone suspected the existence +of the diamonds. No one knew, that when the man whom she had married was +running through her little fortune, the unhappy wife had, in her +despair, converted a few hundreds into diamonds, and hidden them away +from all eyes in that old jewel-box.</p> + +<p>Griselda's eyes filled with tears. She pressed the bit of paper to her +lips, and, wholly unconscious of the worth of those precious stones, she +closed the drawer again upon that unexpected discovery, and, putting the +small box safely in the drawer of the bureau, she took her violin from +its case, and tried to wake from it the music which lay hidden in it. As +she played—imperfectly enough, yet with the ear of a musician—her +spirit was soothed and comforted; and these verses, written in a thin, +pointed hand, were dropped into Lady Miller's vase that evening with no +name or cypher affixed, and the mystery of the author was not solved:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">WAITING.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Loveliest strains are lying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waiting to awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till a master's hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall sweetest music make.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Life's best gifts are waiting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till a magic power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls them from their hiding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In some happy hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Brightest hopes are watching<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For their time of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a kindred spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Greets them with a kiss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dreams of purest joys<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shadows still remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the day-star rises,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loss is turned to gain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sadness, grief, and sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like clouds shall pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If only we in patience wait<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till dawns the perfect day."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"This author may claim a wreath," Lady Miller said, "but perhaps she +likes best to be uncrowned."</p> + +<p>There was endless discussion as to the author of what seemed to be +considered a poem of unusual merit, and one and another looked +conscious, and blushed and simpered, for no one was unwilling to take +the honour to herself. Lady Betty was sure it was only the dear +Marchioness who could have written them, only she was too modest to +declare herself.</p> + +<p>"Mock modesty I call it!" said Lady Miller, who was a bright, jovial +woman, and had nothing of the grace or sentimental air which the +verse-makers of those days wore as their badge.</p> + +<p>Not a single person thought of taxing Griselda with the verses, so quiet +had she been in these assemblies, seldom expressing any opinion as to +the poems of other people. Griselda was not in the charmed circle of the +<i>élite</i> of Parnassus, who had a right to wear one of Lady Miller's +laurel crowns, and yet the verses, such as they were and poor as they +may seem to us, were superior to the <i>bouts rimés</i> on a "buttered +muffin," which, report says, were once dropped into the Roman vase at +Batheaston.</p> + +<p>At the time of which I write, Lady Miller's sun was declining. Scarcely +two years later, she died at the Clifton Hot Wells, at a comparatively +early age. But in her day her reputation spread far and wide; and some +of the contributions, notably one from Sheridan's able pen, were full of +real, and not, as was too often the case, affected feeling.</p> + +<p>This reunion to which Lady Betty and Griselda went on this December +night was not one of the Fairs of Parnassus which were held every +Thursday. It was a soirée, to which only a select few—such as +marchionesses, and embryo duchesses, and future peeresses—were bidden.</p> + +<p>Lady Miller's health was failing, though she tried to hide it; and even +now a cough, which was persistent, though not loud, prevented her from +reading the effusions which were taken haphazard from the vase, dressed +with its pink ribbons, and with crowns of myrtle hanging from it. Six +judges were generally chosen to decide on the best poems, and the +authors were only too proud to come forward and kneel to receive the +wreath from the hand of this patroness of <i>les belles lettres.</i></p> + +<p>How old-world this all seems to us now! and how we think we can afford +to sneer at such folly and such deplorably bad taste as the poems then +thought worthy display! "Siren charms" and "bright-eyed enchantress," +"soft zephyrs" and "gentle poesies," might be the stock expressions +always ready to lend themselves to rhymes, with a hundred others of the +like nature. But these reunions had their better side; for reading +verses was better than talking scandal, and apostrophes to bright eyes +and ladies' auburn locks better than the discussion of the last duel or +elopement, which, in the absence of "society papers," were too apt to +form the favourite topic of the <i>beau monde</i>.</p> + +<p>Lady Miller may have won her myrtle crown for attempting to set the +minds and brains of her friends at work, even if only to produce +doubtful <i>bouts rimés</i> where sense was sacrificed to rhyme, and sound +triumphed over subject.</p> + +<p>We have our Lady Millers of to-day, although there are no pink-ribboned +vases in which contributors drop their poetical efforts.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>ON THE TRACK.</h3> + + +<p>Griselda had been much surprised at the applause which followed the +reading of her verses. They were called for a second time, and elicited +great praise.</p> + +<p>"They are vastly pretty, and full of feeling!" exclaimed Lady Betty the +next morning. "I declare, Griselda, you are without an atom of +sentiment; you sat listening to them with a face like a marble statue. +It is well for you that you are not a victim to sentiment as I am. I vow +I could weep at the notion of the sorrowful soul who wrote those +impassioned couplets which were read before the five stanzas, so much +admired. Ah!" Lady Betty continued, with a yawn—for it was her +yawning-time between her first and second visit to the Pump Room—"ah! +it is well for some folks that they are callous. I am all impatience to +get a copy of those rhymes for Lord Basingstoke; and—<i>entre nous, ma +chère, entre nous</i>—when do you propose to accept Sir Maxwell Danby's +suit? He formally asked my permission to address you. It would be a good +match, and——"</p> + + +<p>"I have not the slightest intention, Aunt Betty, of listening to Sir +Maxwell Danby's proposal."</p> + +<p>Griselda always gave Lady Betty that title when angry.</p> + +<p>"Oh! how high and mighty we are! But I would have you to know, miss, I +cannot afford to keep you for ever. I am now embarrassed, and a dun has +been here this very morning; so I advise you not to overlook Sir Maxwell +Danby's offer."</p> + +<p>"If there were not another man in the world I would not marry Sir +Maxwell," Griselda said, rising. "I will consider other matters, and +tell you of my decision."</p> + +<p>"You silly child! Where are you going, pray?"</p> + +<p>"To my own chamber."</p> + +<p>"You must be powdered for the ball to-night. I promised Sir Maxwell he +should have his opportunity at my Lady Westover's dance. Perkyns is +coming at four o'clock. You must be powdered. It is not the mode to +appear in full toilette, with your hair as it was dressed last night. +That gold band may suit some faces, but not yours. Do you hear, miss?"</p> + +<p>"I hear," Griselda said; "and I repeat I do <i>not</i> go with your ladyship +to Lady Westover's ball."</p> + +<p>"The minx!—the impudent little baggage! You shall repent your saucy +words. But you'll come round, see if you don't, if you hear that +pale-faced fellow Travers is to be of the company. Yes; go and ask his +old mother about it—go!"</p> + +<p>Griselda shut the door with a sharp bang, which made Lady Betty call +loudly for her salts, and brought Graves from the inner room.</p> + +<p>"Such impudence! I won't stand it—the little baggage! She <i>shall</i> +marry Sir Maxwell Danby, or I wash my hands of her."</p> + +<p>Graves calmly held the salts to her mistress's nose: they were strong, +and Lady Betty called out:</p> + +<p>"Not too near! Oh! oh! I am not faint;" and immediately went off into +hysterical crying, which, for obvious reasons, was tearless.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Griselda had gone to her room; and, putting on a long black +pelisse and a wide hat with a drooping feather, set well over her eyes, +she left the house, carrying in a large satchel, which was fastened to +her side, the box containing the jewels she wanted to sell.</p> + +<p>At first she thought she would go to consult Mrs. Travers in her +difficulty. She was determined to run no risk of meeting Sir Maxwell +Danby; and if Lady Betty persisted in backing up his suit, she would +leave her; but where, where should she go?</p> + +<p>An open door in King Street attracted her, and she saw Mr. and Miss +Herschel passing in, each carrying some favourite and precious musical +instrument. They were in all the bustle of removal, doing this, as they +did everything else, with resolute determination to be as earnest as +possible in accomplishing their purpose.</p> + +<p>Miss Herschel, in her short black gown and work-a-day apron with wide +pockets and her close black hood, did not see, or if she saw did not +recognise, Griselda. She was giving directions to her servant, enforced +with many strong expressions; and as she went backwards and forwards +from the door to a cart lined with straw, she was wholly unconscious of +anyone standing by.</p> + +<p>Griselda could not help watching, with interest and admiration, the +swift firm steps of this able and practical woman, as she went about her +business, intent only on clearing the house in Rivers Street, and +filling the house in King Street, as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p>"She is too busy to speak to me now," Griselda thought.</p> + +<p>Mr. Herschel now came hurriedly out, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"The two brass screws, Lina, for the seven-foot mirror! They are +missing!" and then he disappeared in the direction of the house they +were leaving.</p> + +<p>Fortunately it was a bright winter noon, and everything favoured the +flitting, which was accomplished in a very short time. But we who have +in these days any experience of removals—and happy those who have not +that experience—know how patience and temper are apt to fail, as the +hopeless chaos of the new house is only a degree less hopeless than that +of the old house we are leaving. We have vans, and packers, and helpers +at command, unknown in the days of Mr. and Miss Herschel; for at the +close of the last century few, indeed, were the removals from house to +house. As a rule, people gathered round them their "household gods," and +handed them down to their children in the house where they had been born +and brought up. Removal from one part of England to another was not to +be thought of at that time, when roads were bad and conveyances rare, +and a distance of twenty miles more difficult to accomplish than that of +two or three hundred in our own time. Mr. Herschel's reason for taking +the house in King Street was that the garden behind it afforded room for +the great experiment then always looming before him—the casting of the +great mirror for the thirty-foot reflector.</p> + +<p>Griselda passed on without even getting a smile of recognition from Miss +Herschel, so thoroughly engrossed was she with the business in hand; and +a sense of loneliness came over her, as she said to herself:</p> + +<p>"How could I expect Miss Herschel to recognise me, especially in this +thick pelisse and hat? I must not expect my concerns to be of importance +to her or to anyone."</p> + +<p>And as this thought passed through her mind, she became conscious that +to someone, at least, her concerns were of importance; for Leslie +Travers had seen her from the window of his mother's house, and had +thrown his cloak over his shoulders without delay, and, with his hat +looped up at one side in his hand, advanced, saying:</p> + +<p>"This is a happy chance! I am anxious to see you; and, if you will, I +would fain tell you more of a visit I paid to the poor people in Crown +Alley. It is a pitiable case!"</p> + +<p>"And I want to see them," Griselda said, "and to help the child with the +angelic face. I have in my bag the trinkets I spoke of. Will you take me +at once to a shop in the Abbey Churchyard, and inquire for me the price +they will fetch? I want also," she said hurriedly, "to consult you, or +rather your mother, as to what I should do. I cannot—I cannot live any +longer with Lady Betty, unless she promises to protect me from the man I +detest!"</p> + +<p>Leslie Travers's face kindled with delight.</p> + +<p>"Come at once to my mother, at No. 14 in this street. She will be proud +to receive you," he said eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I must not act hastily," Griselda said. "I left Lady Betty in anger +this morning; but I have reason to be angry."</p> + +<p>"You have indeed, if you are forced into the company of a man like Sir +Maxwell Danby. From him I would fain protect you. But," he said, +checking himself, "I am at your service now about the trinkets, or shall +we pay a visit to the poor folks first? It is, I warn you, a sad +spectacle—can you bear it? I have questioned Mr. Palmer of the theatre, +and he says the man (Lamartine) is a man of genius, but a reprobate. He +has for some time made his living on the stage, and when not in drink is +a wonderful actor. But he is subject to desperate fits of drunkenness, +and on his arrival here from Bristol he broke out in one, and falling +down the stairs at the theatre after the second rehearsal, injured +himself so terribly that he cannot live."</p> + +<p>"And the child!—the sweet, innocent child?" Griselda asked.</p> + +<p>"The child is the daughter of a young girl employed about the theatre, +whom Lamartine married some years ago. She died of burns from her dress +catching fire at the Bristol Theatre, where she was acting and getting a +fair living. That is the story. The man is by no means a deserving +character. Shall we visit him to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Griselda said; "I wish to see the child."</p> + +<p>It was now near the hour when it was fashionable to resort to the baths +for the second time before the dinner hour, which was generally at two +o'clock; and as Griselda and Mr. Travers passed the Pump Room they met +several acquaintances.</p> + +<p>It was no uncommon thing for the beaux to conduct the ladies to the +baths, drink the water with them, and lounge away an hour or two while +the band played; and, one by one, those who had been bathing came, well +muffled in wraps, to the chairs waiting to convey them to their +apartments.</p> + +<p>But eyes, which were by no means kindly eyes, were upon Griselda, and as +Sir Maxwell Danby stood at the entrance of the Pump Room he made a low +bow, to which Griselda responded with a stately inclination of her head.</p> + +<p>"Whither away, my fair lady, with that puppy?" thought he. "Ha! I will +be on your scent, and maybe find out something. A silversmith's shop! +Ah! to buy the ring, forsooth! Ah! ha!"</p> + +<p>"What amuses you, Danby?" asked a man of the same type as Sir Maxwell. +"Let me have the benefit of the joke, for I am bored to death dancing +attendance on my wife and girls."</p> + +<p>"Come down with me, and I will show you the finest girl in Bath and the +biggest puppy. They have disappeared within that shop. We may follow."</p> + +<p>"What are you turned spy for?" asked his companion.</p> + +<p>"Who said I had turned spy?" asked Sir Maxwell angrily. "Please +yourself!" and he went down the street, and turned into the jeweller's +shop as if by accident just as Griselda had laid her trinkets on the +counter and the master of the shop was examining them.</p> + +<p>Sir Maxwell retired to the further end of the shop and asked to see some +snuff-boxes, where he was presently joined by his friend. Sir Maxwell +threw himself into one of his easy attitudes, and, while pretending to +listen to the shopman, who had displayed a variety of little pocket +snuff-boxes in dainty leather cases, he was taking in the fact that +Griselda was selling her necklace and gold ornaments.</p> + +<p>As soon as the transaction was over, Sir Maxwell made a sign to his +companion, and, leaving all the snuff-boxes, he loftily waved away the +master of the shop, who was advancing to inquire which he would prefer, +and left in time to see which way Griselda went.</p> + +<p>"To Crown Alley—a low place! By Jove! this is a queer notion. And with +that jackanapes, too, who sets up for being so pious! We won't follow +them further," he said, taking out an elaborately-chased snuff-box and +offering it to his friend. "We won't follow them—this is enough."</p> + +<p>"You are that fair lady's devoted slave, so report says. What are you +about, Danby, to let another get before you? It is not like you!"</p> + +<p>"No, it is <i>not</i> like me; you are right, sir. But I am not beaten out +of the field yet. Crown Alley, forsooth! haunted by the scum of the +theatre! Ah! ha! We must unearth this rat from its hole, and I am the +man to do it!"</p> + +<p>"You are well fitted for the business, I must say," was the rejoinder, +with a laugh.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>WATCHED!</h3> + + +<p>Scenes of poverty and sickness are familiar now to many a good and fair +woman, of whom it may be said in the words of the poet Lowell, that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stairs, to sin and sorrow known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing to the welcome of her feet."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But few indeed were the high-born ladies a hundred and twenty years ago +who ever penetrated the dark places where their suffering brothers and +sisters lived and died in penury and want.</p> + +<p>Class distinction was then rigid, and the sun of womanly tenderness and +compassion had not as yet risen on the horizon with healing on its +wings.</p> + +<p>Thus the two wretched attics, furnished with the barest necessities of +life—to which she ascended by dark, narrow stairs—was indeed a new +world to Griselda Mainwaring.</p> + +<p>She shrank back when the door of the room was opened, and turned away +her head from the pitiful sight before her. The sick man was propped up +on his miserable bed, the child kneeling by him listening to, and trying +to soothe, his incoherent mutterings.</p> + +<p>Leslie Travers went in first and touched the child's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I have brought the lady to see you, and to ask what she can do for +you."</p> + +<p>Instead of answering, Norah held up her hand as if to beg Leslie to be +silent, and continued to stroke her father's long thin hands with one of +hers, while with the other she pressed the rag of vinegar and water on +his burning brow.</p> + +<p>Presently the muttering ceased, and the breathing became more regular, +and then Norah rose, and said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Nothing stops his wild talk till I kneel by him and hold his hand, and +stroke his forehead; that is why I could not speak, sir." Then the child +went up to the threshold of the door where Griselda still stood, and +said: "I thought you would come—I felt sure, lady, you would come; but +do not be afraid, he is asleep now, and may sleep for an hour."</p> + +<p>Griselda felt ashamed of the disgust she could not conceal at what she +saw. But the true womanly instinct asserted itself, and pointing to an +open door leading into another garret, she said:</p> + +<p>"May I go in there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is my room; it is where I put the clothes when I have mended +them. The queen's gauze veil got torn, and I can mend gauze better than +anyone, so Mrs. Betts gave it to me. Mrs. Betts is kind to me." Then +seeing Griselda's puzzled look at the heterogeneous mass of finery +heaped up on a table supported against the wall, as it was minus one +leg, the child explained: "I mend the actresses' dresses. Mrs. Betts is +the wardrobe keeper at the theatre, and she has had pity on me, or—or I +think we should have starved."</p> + +<p>"Well," Griselda said, "I have brought you money to buy food, and surely +you want a fire; and where is your bed?"</p> + +<p>The child pointed to a mattress in the corner under the sloping angle of +the roof, and said:</p> + +<p>"I sleep there most nights, but now he is so bad I watch by him."</p> + +<p>Griselda opened her sachet and took from it a crimson silk purse.</p> + +<p>"Here are two guineas," she said; "get all you want."</p> + +<p>Norah clasped her hands in an ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said, "this is what I have prayed for. God has heard me, and +it is come. My beautiful princess has come. You are my beautiful +princess, and I shall always love you. I will get Brian to buy lots of +things; he will be here after school. Does the gentleman know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he brought me."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall love him, too; you are both good. I shall try and make +father know you brought the money; but he does not understand much now. +Hark! he is calling—he is awake!"</p> + +<p>Norah hastened back to her post, and Griselda followed her.</p> + +<p>Leslie Travers had been standing by the sick man's bed, and Griselda, +ashamed of her feelings of repulsion and shrinking, took her place by +his side.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a flash of intelligence came into those large dark eyes, and +the man started up and gazed at Griselda, repeating:</p> + +<p>"Who is she?—who is she?"</p> + +<p>"The dear beautiful lady who has brought us all we want. Thank her, +father—thank her!"</p> + +<p>"Thank her!" he repeated. "<i>Who is she?</i>"</p> + +<p>Then an exceeding bitter cry echoed through the rafters of the chamber +as if it would pierce the very roof. And with that cry the man fell back +on his pillow, saying:</p> + +<p>"Phyllis—Phyllis! come back—come back!"</p> + +<p>Griselda started towards the door, and Leslie Travers caught her, or she +would have fallen down the steep, narrow stairs.</p> + +<p>"Take me away—take me away! I cannot bear it! Oh, it is too dreadful! +That face—those eyes—that cry!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, carefully guiding her downstairs, and shielding her as +much as possible from the inquisitive stare of the dwellers in the same +house, taking her hand in his, and drawing it into his arm: "You are not +accustomed to such sad sights, the poverty and the squalor."</p> + +<p>"It was the man who frightened me. What made him call Phyllis—Phyllis! +that beautiful sacred name, for it was my mother's?"</p> + +<p>"He was raving; he fancied he was on the stage. He will not live many +days, and then we will see that the child is cared for."</p> + +<p>The "<i>we</i>" escaped his lips before he was aware of it; but the time for +reticence was past. He turned into the Abbey, and Griselda made no +resistance. Then with impassioned earnestness Leslie Travers told his +love, and often as the tale is told, it is seldom rehearsed with more +simple manly fervour. For in the reality of his love Leslie Travers +forgot all the flowery and fulsome love epithets which were the fashion +of the day. He did not kneel at her feet and vow he was her slave; he +did not call her by a thousand names of endearment; but he made her feel +perfect confidence in his sincerity. This confidence ever awakes a +response in the heart of a true woman, and makes her ready to trust her +future in his hands who asks to guard it henceforth.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she had answered in a low but clear tone; "yes, I thank you for +the kindness you do me."</p> + +<p>He tried to stop her, but she went on:</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> a kindness to take a friendless and penniless orphan to your +heart." Then she looked up at him, and reading in his clear pure eyes +the story his lips had so lately uttered, she added with a smile, +through the April mist of tears in her beautiful eyes: "Yes, it <i>is</i> a +kindness, let me take it as such; but not leave myself your debtor, for +I will give you in return all my heart, and be henceforth to you tender +and true."</p> + +<p>He seized her hands in rapture, and kissed them passionately.</p> + +<p>"We are in a church," he said; "let us seal our betrothal here, and pray +for God's blessing."</p> + +<p>They were hidden from sight as they stood within the entrance of Prior +Bird's Chantry Chapel, and there, hand clasped in hand, the young lovers +knelt and silently prayed for God's blessing.</p> + +<p>As they rose, Griselda looked round, and a blast of chill air came over +her from the opening of a side door. She shuddered, and said:</p> + +<p>"How cold it is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; cold and damp. Let us hasten out into the sunshine."</p> + +<p>"Who opened that door?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Some old woman, I dare say, who comes to dust and clean," he answered, +as they walked down the nave, surrounded, as it there was, with many +tombs, and the walls crowded with tablets in memory of the dead.</p> + +<p>Lady Jane Waller's stately monument, and Bishop Montague's, were then, +as now, conspicuous; and Griselda paused for a moment by the recumbent +figure of the Lady Jane.</p> + +<p>As she did so, a figure, well known and dreaded, was seen coming from +behind the monument.</p> + +<p>Griselda clasped Leslie Travers's arm with both hands, and said:</p> + +<p>"Let us hasten away—we are watched."</p> + +<p>But Leslie turned, and faced Sir Maxwell Danby.</p> + +<p>"The shadow of the church is a better trysting-place than the shelter of +the dwellings in Crown Alley," he said, hissing the words out in what +was hardly more than a whisper.</p> + +<p>Leslie was on the point of retorting angrily, when he controlled +himself:</p> + +<p>"This is not the time and place," he said, "to demand an apology for +your words, Sir Maxwell Danby. I will seek it elsewhere."</p> + +<p>But Griselda clung to his arm, and tried to advance towards the side +door to get away from the man, who had dogged her steps.</p> + +<p>"Come—come, I pray you," she said; "do not stay."</p> + +<p>And Leslie Travers, saying in low but decided tones, "I will seek +satisfaction elsewhere," let the door swing behind him, and he and +Griselda passed out of the dim Abbey into the sunshine.</p> + +<p>It was still bright and beautiful without, and the fair city lay under +the shadow of the encircling hills, which were touched with the glory of +a brilliant winter's day.</p> + +<p>A slight fall of snow had defined the outline of church and houses, and +the leafless trees were sparkling with ten thousand diamonds on their +branches.</p> + +<p>The keen, crisp wind had dried the footways, and there was nothing on +the smooth-paved roads to make walking anything but delightful.</p> + +<p>"I want to take you to my mother now," Leslie said. "Will you come?"</p> + +<p>"Will she be kind to me?" Griselda asked. "Do you think she will be +kind to me?"</p> + +<p>"Kind! Pride in you is more likely to be her feeling, I should venture +to say."</p> + +<p>"But," Griselda said, casting anxious looks behind, "I am really afraid +of Sir Maxwell Danby. He will go to the North Parade with all haste, or +find Lady Betty in the Pump Room, and speak evil of me."</p> + +<p>"Let him dare to do so!" Leslie said. "I will challenge him, if he dares +to take your name on his lips!"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no!" Griselda said; "no! Promise you will not quarrel with him? +He is a man who would be a dangerous foe."</p> + +<p>"He is my foe already," Leslie said. "As to danger, sweet one, I do not +recognise danger where honour is concerned. Do not talk more about this +now, nor mar these first sweet hours of happiness. Say it is not a +dream, those blessed words you spoke in the church, Griselda?"</p> + +<p>She gave him a look which was more eloquent than any words, and then +said, in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I had found my rest."</p> + +<p>"Dear white-winged dove," was the reply, "if you have been wandering +over stormy waters tempest-tossed, let me love to think you have found +your rest with me."</p> + +<p>They were now at the door of Mrs. Travers's house; Leslie knocked, and +it was opened by the old servant, who followed his young master wherever +he went—a faithful retainer of the old type of servant, who, through +every change and chance, would as soon think of cutting off a right hand +as forsake his master's son.</p> + +<p>Giles had a most comical face—a mass of furrows and wrinkles, a mouth +which had very few teeth left, and small twinkling eyes. He wore a +scratch yellow wig, and a long coat with huge buttons, on which was the +crest of the Travers—a heron with a fish in its beak—a crest +suggestive of the land of swamps and marshes, where herons had a good +time, and swooped over their prey with but small fear of the aim of the +sportsman—so few were the sportsmen who ever invaded those desolate +wild tracks of water and peat-moss.</p> + +<p>"Aye, Master Leslie," Giles said, "ye're late, and there's company at +dinner."</p> + +<p>"It is scarcely one o'clock, Giles. Where is my mother?"</p> + +<p>"Up above with the company; and not well pleased you are not there, +either."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Griselda said; "I do not wish to stay. Please take me back to the +Parade! Let me see Mrs. Travers another day, <i>please</i>. I ask it as a +favour."</p> + +<p>She pleaded so earnestly, that old Giles interposed:</p> + +<p>"There's room at my mistress's board for all that care to come. There +never yet was a guest sent away for lack of room."</p> + +<p>"It is not that—not that," Griselda said.</p> + +<p>"Whatever it is," Leslie said, "I cannot let you leave us thus"—for +Griselda had moved to the door. "Nay—now, nay—do not be so cruel!"</p> + +<p>Here voices were heard on the stairs, and the next moment Mrs. Travers +appeared, leaning on the arm of a man who wore a clerical dress, a black +coat and bands, and a bag-wig tied with a black bow.</p> + +<p>"My son, Mr. Relly," Mrs. Travers said; and then she looked with dismay +at the figure by Leslie's side.</p> + +<p>It was no time for explanation, and Leslie merely said:</p> + +<p>"Miss Mainwaring will dine with us, mother."</p> + +<p>"You are late, Leslie," Mrs. Travers replied, in a low, constrained +voice; and she did not do more than bow to Griselda, adding: "Our +mid-day meal has been waiting for some time. Shall we go to the +dining-parlour at once?"</p> + +<p>Surely no position could be more embarrassing for poor Griselda. All her +dignity and gentle stateliness of manner seemed, under this new +condition of things, to desert her. Her large hat scarcely concealed the +distress which was so plainly marked on her face, and tears were in her +eyes as she said, in a low, trembling voice to Mrs. Travers:</p> + +<p>"I fear I intrude, madam?"</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Travers was anxious to avoid what she called the hollow +courtesies of the world of fashion, and thus she only replied:</p> + +<p>"Will you be pleased to remove your warm pelisse? The air is very cold. +Abigail," she said to a maid-servant who had appeared, "conduct this +lady to the inner parlour, and assist her to lay aside her pelisse. Now, +Mr. Relly, we will take our seats, and my son will do the honours."</p> + +<p>Griselda hastily unfastened her pelisse, but instead of following the +maid to the room, she held it towards her; and then, with a gesture +which implied her trust in Leslie, she put her hand into his arm, and he +led her to the dinner-table, where Giles had taken up his position +behind his mistress's chair.</p> + +<p>The meal was, as Giles had intimated it would be, very bountiful. Mr. +Relly said a long grace, which was really a prayer, and which Griselda +thought would never end.</p> + +<p>During dinner the conversation lay between Mr. Relly and Mrs. Travers, +if conversation it could be called. It was rather an exchange of +religious sentiments, quotations of texts of Scripture, seasoned with +denouncements of the vanities of the world, as Bath spread them out for +the unwary. Griselda felt that many of Mr. Relly's shafts were directed +at her, and she felt increasingly ill at ease and uncomfortable. It was +only when she could summon courage to look at Leslie that her spirits +rose to the occasion, and she answered him in low, sweet tones when he +addressed her.</p> + +<p>To the great relief of everyone except Mrs. Travers Mr. Relly took leave +before the cloth was drawn, excusing himself on the plea of having to +attend upon that aged servant of God, the Countess, who expected him to +consult on important business.</p> + +<p>"If I may be so bold, may I beg you to convey my dutiful remembrances to +her ladyship?" Mrs. Travers said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Relly assented, but in a manner which implied it was a very bold +request to make, and then departed.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were alone and Giles had left the room, Leslie rose, and +going to his mother's chair, he said:</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a daughter to-day, mother. You have often longed for +her appearance, and it is with joy and pride that I tell you Miss +Griselda Mainwaring has done me the honour to promise to be my wife and +your dear daughter."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers's face displayed varying emotion as her son went on. +Surprise and disapproval were at first prominent; then the certainty +that Leslie was in earnest, and that to turn him from his purpose was at +all times hopeless, when his mind was set on any particular course of +action, brought tears to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my son!" she began; but Griselda left her chair, and, coming to her +side, she said:</p> + +<p>"Madam, I pray you to receive me as your daughter. I will try to be a +loving and true wife. Madam, I am alone in the world, and as I have been +so happy as to win the love of your son, you must needs think kindly of +me. I will strive to be worthy of him."</p> + +<p>This avowal was so entirely unexpected that Mrs. Travers could not at +first speak. This simple confession of love, this sad reference to her +lonely condition, this promise to be a true and loyal wife—how unlike +the coquettish and half-reluctant, half-triumphant manner which Mrs. +Travers thought a Bath belle would assume under these circumstances!</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, after a pause, during which Leslie had thrown his +arm protectingly round Griselda—"my dear, may I do my duty to you as my +only son's wife? I pray that you may be kept safe in this evil world, +and that we may mutually encourage each other to tread the narrow way +leading to everlasting happiness."</p> + +<p>Griselda bent, and said simply:</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, dear madam, in token of your approval;" and Mrs. Travers rose, +and very solemnly putting her arm round Griselda, and holding the hand +which was locked in her son's, pressed a kiss on the fair forehead of +her future daughter-in-law, and uttered a prayer for God's blessing on +her. Then Griselda said, "I must return now to Lady Betty. Will you +come, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Give me my name," he said. "Let me hear you give me my name."</p> + +<p>"There is time enough for that," she said, rallying with an arch smile. +"We will come to that by-and-by."</p> + +<p>And soon they were retracing their steps to the North Parade, joy in +their hearts, and that sweet sense of mutual love and confidence, which +in all times, whenever it is given, comes near to the bliss of the first +love-story rehearsed in Paradise. Alas! that too often it should pass +like a dream, and that the trail of the serpent should be ready to mar +the beauty of the flowers of an Eden like Leslie Travers's, and Griselda +Mainwaring's.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>A PROPOSAL.</h3> + + +<p>The door of the house in North Parade was opened by Graves.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" she said anxiously. "Dinner is not only served, +but just finished. There have been tantrums about it, I can tell you. +You may prepare for a fuss. Her ladyship——"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Griselda said, turning to Leslie—"perhaps you had better pay +your visit to-morrow. Let me see Lady Betty alone."</p> + +<p>Graves, who saw the hesitation, now said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Griselda, her ladyship is in no mood to see a stranger. You +had best bid the gentleman good-day, and come in."</p> + +<p>"It may be it is best," Griselda said. "So good-bye—good-bye till +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Unless we meet in the Assembly Room," Leslie said, holding her hand; +and bending over it, he pressed it to his lips again and again, as if he +could not give it up.</p> + +<p>She drew it gently away, and then ran with a light step to her own room. +Graves followed her.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean, my dear?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It means that I am no longer alone in the wide, cold world. Oh, be glad +for me, Graves, be glad! I am to be the wife of a good man—Mr. Leslie +Travers."</p> + +<p>"Good! Well, there is none good—no, not one! He may be better in the +eye of <i>man</i> than the rest, but <i>good</i>!—he may be a <i>moral</i> man."</p> + +<p>"He is everything that is noble and good! Oh, Graves, I am so happy!"</p> + +<p>"Poor child!—poor child!" the faithful woman said, as she smoothed the +bow on the wide hat before putting it away—"poor child! Well, you'll +need a protector. There's a great to-do in the dining-parlour. I heard +your name again and again; and her ladyship and that man who is so often +here—worse luck—were making free with it, I can tell you. There! +that's her bell—ring-ring-ring! And here comes David."</p> + +<p>David was the man-servant, and tapped sharply at the door.</p> + +<p>"Mistress Graves, are you here? Is Miss Mainwaring here? She is wanted +by her ladyship in the sitting-room—<i>now</i>," he added—"this instant. Do +ye hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am not deaf," was Graves' retort; "so you needn't make a noise +like so many penny trumpets. You had better change your dress, my dear. +Here is your blue skirt and flowered-chintz gown—and your hair is all +falling down. Come!"</p> + +<p>Griselda was putting away the money she had received for her jewels, and +then submitted to Graves' hands, as she changed her morning-gown for a +pretty toilette of chintz and under-skirt of blue brocade.</p> + +<p>"I must be quick, or she will ring again," Graves said. "There! I +thought so"—for again the querulous bell sounded, and hurrying feet +were heard on the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship is in a regular passion," David said, through the door. +"You'll repent it, Graves, as sure as you are alive."</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, and be off," was the reply; "I can take care of +myself, by your leave!"</p> + +<p>David grumbled a reply, and again departed.</p> + +<p>In other times, Griselda would have shown some sign of desire to avert +the storm of Lady Betty's anger; but to-day she went through her +toilette without any undue haste.</p> + +<p>"Graves," she said, "I want you to go to Crown Alley for me, and see a +poor, man who is dying, and take him some comforts. Surely there are +plenty of wasted luxuries that might be of use to him! And, Graves, he +has a dear little girl—such a clever child!—and as lovely as an angel, +though half-starved. Graves, will you take some of that mock-turtle soup +and a bottle of wine before night to No. 6, Crown Alley?"</p> + +<p>"Well, to say the truth, Miss Griselda, I ain't partial to low places +like Crown Alley, and——"</p> + +<p>"But you might talk to the man of good things—you might tell him of the +love of God."</p> + +<p>Graves shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I must tell him first of the wrath of God—poor dying creature!—if he +has been mixed up with theatre folk. It's awful to think of him!"</p> + +<p>"Do go—to please <i>me</i>, dear Graves," Griselda said. With a sudden +impulse, she stooped and kissed her rugged face as Graves bent down to +arrange a knot of ribbon on the chintz bodice. "Oh, Graves, I am so +happy! I want to make someone else happy. Don't you understand? Do go; +and take what you can in your hand. Now, what do I care for scolding?" +she said. "I feel as if I had wings to-day;" and in another moment +Griselda had tripped downstairs, and was at the door of the +sitting-room, where on a sofa reclined Lady Betty.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty was fanning herself vigorously—always a sign of a coming +storm; and Sir Maxwell Danby was leaning back in an armchair, toying +with his snuff-box and the trifles hanging to his watch-chain. The +ruffles on his coat were of the most costly lace, and so was the edge of +the long cravat, which, however, was peppered with the snuff he was +continually using.</p> + +<p>There was a gleam of something very much the reverse of kindly intention +in his little deep-set eyes, and cunning and malice were making curves +round his thin lips, though, on Griselda's entrance, a smile, which was +meant to be fascinating, parted them; and, rising in reply to her +curtsey at the threshold of the door, he bowed low, advanced to her, +and, offering his hand, said:</p> + +<p>"May I beg leave to hand you to a chair?"</p> + +<p>Then, as Griselda drew her hand away and turned on him a look of +disgust, Lady Betty almost screamed out:</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by flouncing like that, miss? Sit down at once, and +hear of the honour this gentleman proposes to do you. He offers you what +you little deserve."</p> + +<p>"Nay—nay, my lady," Sir Maxwell began; "that is impossible for any man +to offer. A diadem laid at this fair lady's feet would be all too little +for her deserts. But may I venture to address a few words to your fair +ward? and then I will take my leave, and await with anxiety a +reply—say, to-morrow at this time. I would not hasten her. Madam," he +began, with his hand on his heart—"madam, I pray you to listen to my +poor words; and, as you listen, believe that they come from one weary of +the hollow insincerities of a gay world, and longing to rest itself on +something real and steadfast. I see in you the perfection of womanhood. +I adore you; and Lady Betty favours my suit. I can offer you a +position—a social rank—not to be lightly esteemed. Danby Hall is my +ancestral home, and thither I crave leave to convey you, ere many months +have passed, as its beautiful mistress, and——"</p> + +<p>"Sir," Griselda interrupted, as this suitor bent on one knee, with due +care not to cause a rupture between the silk stockings which met his +knee-breeches by too sudden a genuflexion—"sir, I must beg you to +desist. Surely, Aunt Betty, you have not encouraged this gentleman to +pursue a suit which is distasteful to me?"</p> + +<p>Then, as Lady Betty began to raise her voice, Griselda turned to Sir +Maxwell, who was finding his position uneasy, for his joints were not as +supple as they had been twenty years before:</p> + +<p>"Sir Maxwell Danby," she said, her voice trembling, in spite of every +effort she made to control it, "I thank you for the honour you do me, +but I decline to accept the proposal you make me."</p> + +<p>"She only means to put you off, Sir Maxwell; she will think better of +it—she <i>shall</i> think better of it."</p> + +<p>"Nothing will change my purpose—nothing <i>can</i> change it." Then, though +it seemed almost sacrilege to bring to light what lay like a fount of +hidden joy in her heart, she looked steadily into the face of the +world-worn man, who quailed before the clear glance of those young pure +eyes. "Nothing can change my purpose, sir; and for this reason—I am +pledged to another."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" broke out almost involuntarily from Sir Maxwell "I understand. +Lady Betty, let me warn you that this fair lady is in some danger from +designing folk, who frequent the lowest purlieus of the city. I warn +you; and now"—with a low bow—"I take my leave." And casting a Parthian +arrow behind as he made another low bow at the door, he said: "And unless +you receive my warning in good part, you will see cause to repent it. It +may be you will have to repent it through <i>another</i>."</p> + +<p>Griselda's face blanched with fear as she turned to Lady Betty:</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she exclaimed, "what that bad man has been saying of—of me, +and of another!"</p> + +<p>"Saying! That you have misbehaved yourself, miss; and that you have been +taken to Crown Alley by that canting hypocrite whom I detest. Speak to +him again, and you leave this house. <i>Dare</i> to refuse Sir Maxwell +Danby's offer, and I cast you off. You had better take care, for your +poor mother disgraced herself, and——"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" Griselda said; "not a word about my mother. I will not hear it. +But, Aunt Betty, I will not listen to the proposal made me by Sir +Maxwell Danby. I would not, as I have told you, marry him were there no +other man in the world; but, as it is," she said proudly, the fire of +her eyes being suddenly dimmed with the mist of gentle tears—"as it is, +I am the promised wife of Mr. Leslie Travers. He will see you to-morrow +on this matter, and——"</p> + +<p>"I will not see him. You shall marry Sir Maxwell; he has a fine fortune, +and a fine place. You are mad; you are an idiot—a fool! Go to your +room, miss, and keep out of my sight till you come to your senses. Get +out of my sight, I say!"</p> + +<p>How long this tirade might have raged I cannot tell, had not David +announced "Lord Basingstoke." Shallow waters are easily lashed into a +storm, and as easily does the storm spend itself.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty quickly recovered herself, and as Griselda left the room she +heard her aunt's usual dulcet tones and the inevitable giggle as the +young lord, who was sorely at a loss how to "kill time," sank down in +the chair Sir Maxwell had so lately left, and the usual badinage went on +and received an additional piquancy by the arrival of two or three more +idle people who had been to the Pump Room for their afternoon glass of +water, and missing Lady Betty, had come to inquire for her health, and +to talk the usual amount of scandal, or harmless gossip, as the case +might be.</p> + + +<p>The various love affairs on the tapis were discussed in their several +aspects, and Mrs. Greenwood's plain daughters were made the target for +the shafts of foolish satire.</p> + +<p>"Could you fancy, my lady, that the vulgar mother asked young Mr. +Beresford what his intentions were because he had danced twice with that +fright, her daughter Bell, out of sheer pity? Lor', what fun young +Beresford is making of her!"</p> + +<p>"Ridiculous! vastly amusing!" exclaimed Lady Betty.</p> + +<p>"But there is another marriage spoken of. I hear you are to give your +beautiful ward"—Lady Betty's friends always took care to call Griselda +a ward, not a niece—"to Sir Maxwell Danby. He has a fine place, upon my +word," said an old beau, who posed as a young one. "He has a fine place, +and a pretty fortune. I congratulate you, madam, and the young lady. For +my part, I always have reckoned her the belle of Bath this season."</p> + +<p>Lady Betty smiled, and accepted the congratulation and the admiration at +the same time.</p> + +<p>"Sir Maxwell had just left her," she said.</p> + +<p>"Where is the young lady?" the old gentleman asked. "Upon my word, Danby +is a lucky fellow. There are many who will envy him. I confess <i>I</i> am +one."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I say, where is Miss Mainwaring?" Lord Basingstoke asked.</p> + +<p>And Lady Betty, flirting her fan vigorously, said:</p> + +<p>"She has a headache, and will not be at the Assembly to-night, I fear."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>A LETTER.</h3> + + +<p>Griselda was glad to escape to her own room that she might have time to +think over her position and decide what was best to do, and what was the +next step to take.</p> + +<p>She laid aside her dress and hoop, and put on a long morning-gown which +Lady Betty had discarded because the colour was unbecoming; and then, +opening her desk, chose a very smooth sheet of Bath-post paper, and sat +with her quill pen in her hand as if uncertain what to write.</p> + +<p>But her face was by no means troubled and anxious; on the contrary, it +was happy, almost radiant, in its expression.</p> + +<p>Griselda had not had an experience of many lovers; indeed, the sweet +story had never been told to her till Leslie Travers told it; and there +was a charm for her in thinking that her heart had responded so fully to +him and given him her first love.</p> + +<p>Foolish protestations like Sir Maxwell Danby's had indeed been made to +Griselda since her arrival at Bath, but a certain stately dignity had +kept triflers at a distance, and it might be said of Griselda, that she</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Held a lily in her hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gates of brass could not withstand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One touch of that enchanted wand."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was the lily of pure unsullied womanly delicacy, which contact with +the world of fashion in every town is too apt to touch, and even wither +with its baleful breath.</p> + +<p>It would not be fair to say that in the Bath assemblies this baleful +influence was all-pervading. Then, as now, there were many who, by their +own guilelessness and purity, repelled the approach of what was harmful +in word or jest.</p> + +<p>But what is now spread over a wide surface was—in those days of small +centres like Bath and other places of fashionable resort in or near +London—pressed within a narrower compass, and thus the evil and its +results were more prominently brought forward.</p> + +<p>But is not the canker at the root of many a fair flower of womanhood in +the higher circles of our own time? Do not maidens and matrons, young +and old, of our own day permit, nay, encourage, the discussion of +scandal and improprieties in their presence, which by their very +discussion tend to stain the pure white flower of maidenhood and +motherhood? Is it not true that familiarity with any evil seems to +lessen its magnitude, and that continual conversation about matters that +are even perhaps condemned, has the effect of making the speaker and +hearer less and less guarded in their remarks, and less and less +"shocked," as they perhaps at first declared themselves to be, at some +sad lapse from the straight path amongst their acquaintances and +friends?</p> + +<p>It would be distasteful to me, and it would not add to the interest of +the story I have to tell, were I to draw a picture true to life of Sir +Maxwell Danby. He was an utterly unscrupulous and base man. He had no +standard of morality, except the standard of doing what best satisfied +his own selfish and low aims. How it was that he had determined to win a +woman like Griselda, I cannot say, so utterly different as she was from +the many women who had fallen into his power. But the fact remained that +he <i>was</i> determined to win her, and if he failed, his love—though I desecrate that word by applying it to any feeling of Sir Maxwell +Danby's—would assuredly turn to hatred and determination to do what he +could to destroy her happiness.</p> + +<p>As Griselda sat that evening with the light of two tall candles in their +massive brass candlesticks, shining on her beautiful face, there was no +shadow over it.</p> + +<p>What if Lady Betty renounced her, and turned her out of the +house?—well, if the whole world were against her, she was no longer +<i>alone</i>. She was his, who loved her, and was ready at any moment to take +her to his heart and home. "I must write to him," she was saying as she +stroked her cheek with the soft feather at the end of her quill; "I must +write to him and tell him all—everything! and then he will know what to +do."</p> + +<p>Soon the pen began to move over the paper, and she smiled as she put it +through the "sir," which had been written after "dear," and substituted +"Leslie."</p> + +<p>How strange and yet how sweet it was to look at it! And then she went +on:</p> + +<p>"I said you must wait till I called you by your name! You have not had +to wait long."</p> + +<p>She wrote on till she heard a bustle on the pavement below her window. +She went to it, and looking down saw the link-boys with their torches +and the chair in which Lady Betty was being carried off to the Assembly, +and the chair was followed by another, and several dark figures shrouded +in long cloaks were in attendance.</p> + +<p>It was a clear frosty evening. The sky was studded with countless stars, +and the fields and meadows then lying before North Parade, made a blank +space of sombre hue where no distant forms of tree or dwelling could be +traced; while beyond was the dim outline of the hills, which stand round +about that City of the West. Lonely heights then!—now crowned by many +stately terraces and houses, where a thousand lamps shine, and define +the outline of the crescents and upward-reaching streets and roads. But +gas was not known in that winter of 1780! It lay hidden in those +strangely-mysterious places, with electricity and the power of steam, +waiting to be called out into activity; for those hidden forces are old +as the eternal hills, only waiting the magic touch of some master's +hand, to be of service to men, who are but slow to recognise whence +every good and perfect gift comes.</p> + +<p>When the house was quiet, Griselda returned to her desk, and slowly and +deliberately finished her letter. It was not long, and covered only one +side of the sheet. Then it was folded with care to make the edges fit in +nicely, and nothing remained but to seal it; and she was about to light +the little taper, and get the old seal from the corner of her desk, when +a tap at the door was followed by Graves's entrance with a tray.</p> + +<p>"Your supper," she said shortly, "Miss Griselda."</p> + +<p>Graves's voice and manner were so unusual that Griselda started up.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she asked. "Why do you look so miserable? Was she +trying your patience—you poor dear old Graves—past bearing? Graves, +why don't you speak?" But Graves's mouth was close shut, and she looked +as if determined not to answer. "Look, Graves, I have written a letter +to Mr. Travers, and told him what Lady Betty said to me; that is, I +told him she said she would cast me off, unless I did as she chose in a +matter which I could not explain in a letter, but connected with Sir +Maxwell Danby."</p> + +<p>"She can't cast you off! You were left to her in the will for +maintenance. I do know that much."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Griselda said vehemently—"yes! like any other of my uncle's +goods and chattels! Oh, I am free now!—I am free!—or shall be soon! I +will not think of vexing matters to-night of all nights! What a dainty +little supper! I like oyster-patties. Ah! that reminds me of your +promise, Graves. Have you been to Crown Alley? Did you take the soup? +and were you kind in your manner to the poor little girl? Graves, did +you go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Griselda, I went."</p> + +<p>"And what did you think? Had I made too much of the misery, and want, +and wretchedness of that poor man?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Griselda—no, my dear!" said Graves.</p> + +<p>"I must go again in a day or two, and you shall come with me."</p> + +<p>Graves relapsed into silence again, and then Griselda put the important +seal on her letter, and addressed it, and gave it to Graves, with +instructions to send it safely by the hand of David early the next +morning.</p> + +<p>"It is a comfort to have told him all!" she said, as Graves finally left +the room. "And how happy I am to be no longer a chattel, but a part of +the very life of another, and that other a man like my Leslie!"</p> + +<p>Sweet were Griselda's dreams that night, all fears seemed to have +vanished, and the image of Sir Maxwell Danby bore no part in them.</p> + +<p>Women of Griselda's type, tasting the cup of happiness for the first +time, are inclined to drink deep of its contents. Perhaps only those who +have not felt the loneliness of heart like hers can tell how great was +the reaction. Hitherto she had been plainly told she was an encumbrance, +and that her business in coming to Bath was to get a settlement in life +as soon as possible. It was this that had made her maintain the cold, +reserved demeanour which was, as I have said, unlikely to make her +popular in the mixed assemblies of Wiltshire's Rooms and the Pump Room. +She had surrendered the citadel of her heart with a whole and perfect +surrender; and while the gay crowd was bent on enjoyment, and beaux and +belles were trying who could be first in the exchange of pleasantries +and jokes not of the most refined character, Griselda dreamed her +dreams, and slept in peace; while Graves, carrying the letter +downstairs, stopped from time to time, and murmured:</p> + +<p>"I have not the heart to tell her! I dare not tell her! Or, if I do, not +to-night!—not to-night! How could I spoil her happiness to-night! May +the Lord call her, and may she hear His voice, for I fear trouble lies +before her, poor lamb!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It is wonderful what perseverance and energy can effect! Even in the +very prosaic and commonplace circumstances of a removal from Rivers +Street to King Street, these qualities were conspicuous in the +Herschels. Miss Herschel had worked with a will from daybreak to +nightfall, and the stolid Welsh servant, Betty, had been infected with +the general stir and bustle of the household.</p> + +<p>By nine o'clock that evening Mr. Herschel was established in his +observatory at the top of the house, without a single mischance +happening to any of his mirrors or reflectors, and without the loss of a +single instrument. It was a night when the temptation to sweep the +heavens was too great to resist, and although he felt some compunction +when he heard the running to and fro below-stairs, and his sister's +voice raised certainly above concert-pitch in exhortations to Betty and +entreaties to Alick to be sharp and quick, he had fixed one of his +telescopes, and was lost in calculations and admiration at some +previously unnoticed feature of the nebulæ, when his brother Alex came +into the room.</p> + +<p>"We have got supper ready," he said, "and Travers is below offering +help—rather late in the day—and the only help he can give now is to +help to eat the double Gloucester cheese and drink the Bristol ale. But +come, Will; you have had no proper meal to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Humph! what," Mr. Herschel said, "did I say? Nineteen millions of +miles, or eighteen and three-quarter millions? Yes, Alex—yes. Can I be +of any assistance? How about the violins and the harpsichord? There are +several lessons down for to-morrow, and Ronzini will be here about the +oratorio. I ought to have gone to Bristol, but it was impossible. +There's the score of that quartette in G minor, Alex—is it safe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes. I pray you, brother, trust the sagacity of your workers, and +repay them with a scrap of gratitude." Then yawning, "If you are not as +tired as any tired dog, I am; and I am off to bed, such as it is, for +there is only one bedstead put up—that is the four-post for you. Lina +and I have decided to sleep on the floor."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I shall not sleep to-night, I have too much to settle. Let +good Lina take some rest for her weary limbs. And, Alex, to-morrow, we +must see about the workshop in the garden and the casting for the +thirty-foot reflector, for I can have no real peace of mind till that is +an accomplished fact. The mirror for the thirty-foot reflector is to be +cast in a mould of loam, prepared from horse dung. It will require an +immense quantity; it must be pounded in a mortar; it must be sifted +through a sieve."</p> + +<p>Alex shrugged his shoulders, and made an exclamation in German which +brought a laugh from his brother.</p> + +<p>"Poor Alex, is the lowest yet most important step of the ladder +distasteful to you? I will not trouble you, my boy, nor will I enlist +Lina in the service against her wishes—do not fear."</p> + +<p>"I fear no work for you, William," Alex said, "when music is concerned, +you know that; but——"</p> + +<p>"I know—I know," William Herschel said, patting his brother's shoulder; +"but, remember, I make even music—yes, even music—that heaven-born +gift, subservient to the better understanding of that goodly host of +heaven, beyond and above all earthly consideration and mere earthly +aims. But let us go to supper. We must eat to live—at any rate, young +ones like you must. Come!"</p> + +<p>The room below was not in such dire confusion as might have been +expected. The harpsichord was pushed close to the wall, with a company +of violin, violoncello, and double-bass cases, standing like so many +sarcophagi in serried rows.</p> + +<p>The table was spread with a clean cloth, and a large drinking-cup of +delft ware, supported by three figures of little Cupids, with a bow for +a handle, was full of strong ale.</p> + +<p>A large brown loaf, and a Cheddar cheese, looked inviting; while a plate +of Bath buns, with puffed shining tops, indented with a crescent of +lemon-peel, showed the taste for sweet cakes which all Germans display.</p> + +<p>"My good sister," Mr. Herschel said, "you are a wondrous housewife; we +must not forget to give the mother far away a true and faithful report +of your skill—eh, Alex?"</p> + +<p>"Skill!" Caroline said. "There is not much skill required—only +strength. Come, Mr. Travers, take what there is, and overlook +deficiencies."</p> + +<p>Then the legs of the mahogany chairs scraped on the bare boards, and the +four sat down to their meal. The grace-cup was passed round. Miss +Herschel, drawing a clean napkin through the handle, with which those +who took a draught wiped their lips and the edge of the cup. The +conversation was bright and lively, and Leslie Travers, who was in the +first joy of Griselda's acceptance of his love, thought he had never +before tasted such excellent bread and cheese, or drunk such beer.</p> + +<p>"There is a ball at Lady Westover's to-night, Travers," Alex said. "You +are absenting yourself from choice, I doubt not. I absent myself from +necessity."</p> + +<p>"You could have gone, Alex; only I warned you I had no time to get up +your lace-ruffles to-day; and you are so reckless with your cravats—all +were crumpled and dirty."</p> + +<p>"My dear sister, I do not complain. I heard, by-the-bye, Travers, that +the voice of the Assembly Room is unanimous in declaring Miss Mainwaring +the reigning beauty; but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" Leslie asked.</p> + +<p>"There are two or three men inclined to make too free with her name."</p> + +<p>Leslie's brow darkened.</p> + +<p>"I know of <i>one</i>," he said; "but, sir, if you should chance again to +hear a word spoken of Miss Mainwaring, you may remind the speaker that +she is my promised wife. She has, unworthy as I am, done me the honour +to look favourably on my suit this very day."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! you are a fortunate man," Alex said heartily.</p> + +<p>"I came with the purpose, madam," Leslie said, turning to Miss Herschel, +"to ask if you will, when agreeable to you, give Miss Mainwaring lessons +in singing? I am," he said, colouring, "responsible for the price of the +lessons, only I do not desire to let Miss Mainwaring know this."</p> + +<p>"I must look in the book of engagements," Miss Herschel said; "we are +over-full as it is. The days lost in the removal threw us back, but," +she said, drawing a book with a marble-paper cover from her capacious +pocket, "<i>I</i> will run my eye over the lists, and try to arrange it, +William."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Herschel had left the room; he returned in a few minutes to say:</p> + +<p>"Lina, the men will be here as soon as it is light to-morrow about the +furnace; and, Lina, I shall be glad to have the micrometer lamp and the +fire in my room."</p> + +<p>"Yes, William;" and the question of singing-lessons for Griselda +Mainwaring, or anyone else, was for the time forgotten.</p> + +<p>Far into the night did that loyal-hearted sister, tired with a hard +day's work, assist her brother in the arrangement of his new study—his +<i>sanctum sanctorum</i>, on the top-floor of the house, made memorable in +the annals of Bath and the records of the country, to which he, William +Herschel, came a stranger, as the spot where his labour received the +crown of success in the discovery of Uranus.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>DISCOVERED.</h3> + + +<p>Griselda shrank from meeting Lady Betty after the stormy scene of the +previous day, and Graves brought her breakfast to her own room.</p> + +<p>"Did you send my letter, Graves?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Surely, by a safe hand?"</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't think David's unsafe!" was the short reply.</p> + +<p>"Graves, why <i>are</i> you so gloomy—like the day? Oh!" she said, turning +to the window, which was blurred with a driving mist of rain—"oh! there +ought to be sunshine everywhere to suit me to-day."</p> + +<p>"There's not likely to be a ray of sun to-day. Bath folks say that if +the weather once sets in like this, it goes on rain, rain——"</p> + +<p>"Well, it can't last for ever—nothing does."</p> + +<p>"No; that's true," said Graves.</p> + +<p>Griselda now settled herself to her breakfast with the appetite of +youth; and, as Graves left the room, she said:</p> + +<p>"Bring the letter the instant it comes, Graves—the answer to <i>my</i> +letter, I mean; or perhaps Mr. Travers may come himself."</p> + +<p>But the day wore on, and Griselda waited and watched in vain. She tried +to occupy herself with her violin; she made a fair copy of her verses, +and smiled as she thought, that waiting—<i>her</i> waiting—had at last been +crowned with reward.</p> + +<p>Then she fell into dreams of her past life; the dull dreary round at +Longueville Park; her uncle's long illness; her dependence for education +on the library and its store of books, and the good offices of the +clergyman of the little parish, who gave her lessons in Latin, and such +Italian as he knew. Needlecraft and embroidery she had learned from his +wife; and she was an accomplished needlewoman.</p> + +<p>It was a haphazard education, but Griselda's natural gifts made her able +to adapt it to her needs; and she was a self-cultured woman, who lived +her own life apart from the frivolity of Lady Betty, to whom, as she +said, she was simply an appendage.</p> + +<p>Then there was the closing of Longueville Park till the heir returned +from the Grand Tour; for, in spite of Lady Betty's wiles and effusive +letters, the heir made it very evident that he did not desire her to +remain at the Park till his return in a year or two, as Lady Betty +fondly hoped.</p> + +<p>Then the little widow made the best of the circumstances, and set forth +with David and Graves to see the world.</p> + +<p>This was two years ago now, and the interval had been filled up with a +few months in Dublin, a short sojourn at the Bristol Hot Wells, and +then, in the October of 1779, the house on the North Parade, Bath, was +taken, where Lady Betty emerged from her weeds, dropping them as the +butterfly drops the chrysalis, and floating off into the world of +fashion, with Griselda as her "sweet friend," and "pet," and protégée, +but never as her "niece."</p> + +<p>From time to time Griselda gave up meditation, and stationed herself at +the window. The small panes, set in thick frames, were dim with +moisture. The fields before her, which stretched to the hills, were +reeking with damp. The hills themselves, and the houses and terraces +which the day before had laughed in the sunshine, were now hidden, or +only seen gray and black through the driving rain.</p> + +<p>No grand chariots, with red-coated post-boys, swept round the corner +from South Parade, drawing up with a flourish at a door near. Very few +people were out in the dim wet streets, and only a few disconsolate +patients were conveyed at intervals by drenched and surly chair-men to +and from the Pump Room, the water dripping from the roofs of the chairs, +and the men's feet making a dull sound on the wet pavements, or on the +miry road below.</p> + +<p>Soon a panic seized Griselda that perhaps that letter had been a little +premature. Was it possible that Leslie Travers could think her +unmaidenly to write as she had done?</p> + +<p>The thought was torture, and the torture grew more and more hard to +bear, as the leaden hours passed.</p> + +<p>At the dinner-hour Graves appeared.</p> + +<p>"Have you brought it—the letter?"</p> + +<p>"No; I've brought a message from her ladyship—that Sir Maxwell Danby is +below, and dines here; and you are to go downstairs."</p> + +<p>"I will <i>not</i> go downstairs—I will not see him," Griselda said +passionately. "Say, Graves, please, that I am unwell, and desire to +remain in my room."</p> + + + +<p>"My poor child!—my poor child!" Graves said. "I think you had best +go—I do, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"You would not say so if you knew. <i>No</i>; I will not go. Make my +apologies, and say what is true-that I am not well. But, Graves, that +letter—<i>did</i> you send it?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you so, Miss Griselda. I speak the truth, as you ought to +know."</p> + +<p>"Did David take it?"</p> + +<p>And now Graves hesitated a little:</p> + +<p>"I gave it to his care as soon as I went down this morning; but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"The gentleman has been here, and David was ordered to refuse him +admittance. I must take your message; there's the bell ringing again."</p> + +<p>Griselda stood where Graves left her, her hands clasped together, and +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What shall I do?—wait till he writes? He will surely write! Oh, that I +had someone to consult! Shall I leave the house?—shall I go to Mrs. +Travers? No; I would not force myself on her—or anyone. I must wait. +Surely my poor little rhymes were prophetic! Waiting and watching——"</p> + +<p>Again Graves appeared with a tray, on which was Griselda's dinner. A +little three-cornered note lay on the napkin.</p> + +<p>Griselda snatched it up, and read, in Lady Betty's thin, straggling, +pointed handwriting:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Do not atempt to shew your face, miss, till you have made a +propar apollgey, and have declared your readynes to meet the +gentleman who has done you the honour of adressing you.</p> + +<p>"B. L."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Lady Betty's spelling was, to say the least of it, eccentric; and +Griselda smiled as she crumpled up the note and tossed it into the fire.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I am a prisoner then till my true knight comes to set me +free. Make my compliments to her ladyship, and say, Graves, that I am +obedient to her orders, and have no intention of showing my face."</p> + +<p>"My dear," Graves said, "pray to the Lord to help you; you will need His +help."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Speak out, Graves."</p> + +<p>But again Graves left the room, murmuring to herself:</p> + +<p>"I have not the heart to tell her, yet she must surely know; she must be +told."</p> + +<p>The long, slow hours passed, and twilight deepened early, for the sky +only showed a lurid glow in the west for a few minutes at sunset, and +then the rain and mist swept over the city, and nothing was to be seen +from the window but the dim light of an oil-lamp here and there, and the +flare of the link-boys' torches as they passed in attendance on chairs, +or lighted pedestrians across the road for a fee of a halfpenny.</p> + +<p>At the accustomed hour Lady Betty set off to the Assembly Room, and the +house being quiet, Griselda came out of her room.</p> + +<p>David was in attendance with his mistress, and only the woman who let +the house and cooked for the family was at home with her daughter.</p> + +<p>Griselda heard her voice raised to reproach her daughter, who acted as +servant to the establishment, and she caught the words: "Shut the door, +Sarah Anne! Send the young rascal away!—a little thief, no doubt!"</p> + +<p>Griselda ran downstairs, impelled by some hidden instinct, and feeling +sure that the messenger came from Crown Alley.</p> + +<p>The door was partially open, and Sarah Anne was evidently trying to shut +it against an effort to keep it open.</p> + +<p>Then Griselda heard a voice pleading—a musical boyish voice:</p> + +<p>"Let the young lady know I'm here; pray do."</p> + +<p>And now Graves came from the back of the house, and exclaimed, as +Griselda was trying to admit the boy:</p> + +<p>"Go back into the dining-parlour, Miss Griselda. Go; I'll speak to the +boy."</p> + +<p>But Brian Bellis had pushed the door open, and now stood under the dull +glow of the lamp hanging over the entrance.</p> + +<p>"Madam," he said, addressing Griselda, "I am sent to tell you that Mr. +Lamartine is dying; he can't last till morning, and he craves to see +you. For Norah's sake, madam, I beg you to come. I am Brian Bellis, you +know—Norah's only friend. I beg you to come."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will come."</p> + +<p>"He has something to tell you. He says he cannot die till he has told +you."</p> + +<p>"I will come. Stand back, Graves; what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>For Graves had laid her hand on Griselda's arm as she turned to go +upstairs to get her cloak and hood.</p> + +<p>"You must not go to Crown Alley at this time of night; wait till +morning."</p> + +<p>"No, I will not wait; it may be too late to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Poor Graves almost groaned in the agony of her spirit. "My dear—my poor +dear," she said, "you are not fit to go and see a man like him die."</p> + +<p>"Do not listen to her," Brian Bellis said; "do not listen—for Norah's +sake."</p> + +<p>Griselda freed herself from Graves's hand and ran upstairs, returning +presently in her long cloak and a <i>calèche</i> well pulled over her face.</p> + +<p>All this time Mrs. Abbott and her daughter Sarah Anne had watched the +scene with curious eyes, and a small boy who ran errands and turned the +spit in the kitchen, cleaned knives, and performed a variety of such +menial offices, had, all unperceived, been watching from the top of the +stairs leading to the basement and offices.</p> + +<p>The boy had his own reasons for watching. A bit of gold was already in +his pocket which had been given him by a fine gentleman who had stopped +him in the morning as he was running off at David's command, with +Griselda's letter to King Street.</p> + +<p>Another bit of gold was promised this hopeful young personage if he kept +a watch on the proceedings of the beautiful young lady who lived with +Lady Betty Longueville. This boy, who was familiarly called "Zach," was +only too pleased to be thus employed. He had, in fact, given up the +letter to this smart gentleman, who was Sir Maxwell Danby's valet, and +who had also been well-paid for acting spy on many like occasions. It +was the most natural thing in the world for him to stop Zach, ask to +look at the letter, slip a half-guinea into his hand, and tell him he +would convey it to Mr. Travers, as he had a message for him from his +master, and that he might go about his daily business and hold his +tongue. The letter would reach its destination—he need not trouble +himself about it; and the bait held out of another piece of gold for +further information if wanted, depended on his keeping silence; if he +did this, his fortune was made.</p> + +<p>So those little lynx eyes of Master Zach's were very wide open indeed, +and he saw Graves make a final effort to prevent the young lady from +going off with Brian Bellis.</p> + +<p>It was ineffectual, for Griselda said proudly:</p> + +<p>"Do not interfere, Graves; I will not suffer you to do so."</p> + +<p>"Then I must come along with you," poor Graves said, and getting near to +Griselda, she seized her hand, and putting her mouth close to her face, +whispered something which seemed to turn the graceful figure standing +ready for departure into stone.</p> + +<p>She put out her hand and supported herself against the back of a tall +chair which stood near, but beyond this she never moved, till poor +Graves, in a duffle-cloak with many capes and a large black beaver +bonnet, returned, ready to accompany her on her errand. Then she took +the hand which hung passive at Griselda's side.</p> + +<p>"I am ready, my dear—I am ready," Graves said. "Show the way, boy. Have +you a torch handy?"</p> + +<p>"No, madam; but I can find the way in the dark."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Abbott called Zach.</p> + +<p>"Quick, Zach! quick! light a torch, and light these ladies on their way; +or shall he call a chair, madam?"</p> + +<p>"No," Griselda said, starting as if from a dream; "no. Now, Graves!" +Then pulling her hood over her face, and taking Graves's offered arm, +she said to Brian: "Lead the way; I am ready."</p> + +<p>Zach trotted along with the link in his hand, keeping close to Brian, +and the two women followed. Neither spoke till they were well within the +shadow of the Alley, from which a noisy party of women and girls were +coming out.</p> + +<p>Brian, who was in advance, stopped, and Griselda stopped also.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" she asked in a low voice—"are you sure? Is there no +mistake?"</p> + +<p>"There is no mistake. I wish there was—oh! I wish there was!"</p> + +<p>Griselda seemed to be gathering strength now, for she left Graves's arm, +and followed Brian up the long narrow flight of stairs. The child Norah +had heard the sound of coming feet on the creaking staircase, and opened +the door of the attic, saying:</p> + +<p>"He is quieter now." Then, with a sob: "Oh! Brian, Brian! you have been +such a long, long time; and have you brought her—the lady—the young +lady?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am here," Griselda said; "yes. How is your——"</p> + +<p>The word died away on her lips—that word that ought to bring with it +nothing but tender feeling of respect and love—that word which we use +when we speak of the highest and the best guardian for life and +death—"Father!"</p> + + +<p>Yes, that wild haggard man, who had sunk back in a lethargy after long +incoherent ravings, was the father of the beautiful woman who, +unfastening her cloak, let it fall from her on the floor of that +wretched room; and, kneeling, clasped her hands, and cried, in the +bitterness of her soul:</p> + +<p>"Oh, that it was not true! Can it be true? Graves—Graves, tell me it is +a frightful dream, and not reality!"</p> + +<p>"My poor dear!" said Graves, in a choked voice, kneeling by Griselda's +side, and putting her strong arm round her to support her. "My poor +dear! I wish I could tell you it was a dream; but bear up, and put your +trust in the Lord. It may be that He may save yonder poor creature as He +saved the thief, in the hour of death."</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE PLOT THICKENS.</h3> + + +<p>The money which Griselda had brought the day before had added some +comfort to that bare room. A good fire was burning, and the bed on which +the man lay was covered with blankets.</p> + +<p>There was wine, too, and food; and thus, all unawares, the daughter had +performed a daughter's duty, and had ministered to the comfort of the +last sad hours of that wasted life.</p> + +<p>But it were vain to try to tell how Griselda's whole nature shrank from +this sudden revelation—how the impulse was strong to leave the room +before consciousness returned to the dying man—so intensely did she +dread the recognition which she knew must follow.</p> + +<p>For Graves had risen from her knees; and, going to the table, had taken +a small case, and a letter from it, saying:</p> + +<p>"He showed me these last night; they tell their own tale."</p> + +<p>Poor little Norah had resumed her place by the bedside, exhausted with +her long watching. She had slipped down on the floor, and had fallen +into a doze. When Graves touched the case, she sprang up:</p> + +<p>"No; you must not. Father said I was to let no one touch it till she +came. No——"</p> + +<p>The movement, and the child's voice, roused the sick man. He opened his +large eyes, and looked about him—at first with no expression in them; +but presently those black, lack-lustre eyes became almost bright as he +fastened them on Griselda, and said, in a collected manner:</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am glad I have lived to see you. Look! there is the portrait of +your mother, and a letter from her, in which is her wedding-ring. I +would not bury it with her; I kept it for you—her child—her only +child—<i>my</i> child. Let me hear you call me 'father!' I was so cruel—so +base—she had to flee from me—my poor Phyllis!"</p> + +<p>Griselda had opened the case, and stood irresolute with the portrait of +her mother in her hand. A lock of light hair was twisted into a curl, +fastened by a narrow band of small pearls.</p> + +<p>The mother's face, lovely yet sad, looked up at the daughter's, and +seemed to express sympathy and pity for her.</p> + +<p>Deeply had the mother suffered—would her child be like her in this, as +in outward form and semblance? The likeness was so unmistakable, that, +except for the different style of dress, the miniature might have been +painted as a portrait of Griselda herself.</p> + +<p>"My mother!" she whispered softly; and, to the surprise of those who +stood by, the sick man said, in a voice very different from the raving +tones which had been ringing through the room and reaching to every part +of the house:</p> + +<p>"Yes; your mother. I remember you, little Griselda—little Griselda. I +took you to Longueville, and left you there. You cried then to leave me; +you weep now to find me. Well, it is just. I have been a wicked wretch; +I have but little breath left—but take my poor little one out of +this—this stage-life. Take her, and try to love her; she is your +sister."</p> + +<p>"I will," Griselda said. "I shall have a home soon—she shall share it."</p> + +<p>"I thought as much—I hoped as much. He looks worthy of you, Griselda. +Norah," he said, "this is your sister—your princess, as you call her; +she will care for you. You will be a good little maid to her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father," Norah said; and then, with touching simplicity, she put +her little hand into Griselda's, and, looking up at her, she saw tears +were coursing each other down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Will you pray for me?" the dying man said. "Pray that I may be +forgiven."</p> + +<p>"Pray for yourself, father," Griselda whispered.</p> + +<p>He heard the word fall from her lips; and, putting out his long, thin, +wasted hand, he laid it on her head as she knelt by the bed, and said:</p> + +<p>"I pray to be forgiven, and for blessings on you."</p> + +<p>"For Christ's sake!"</p> + +<p>The voice was from Graves, who, in broken accents, called upon the +Master whom she loved to have mercy on the poor penitent who lay dying.</p> + +<p>Then little Norah, nestling close to her father, repeated the 23rd +Psalm; but before she had ended, her father became restless, and fumbled +for the paper, and said:</p> + +<p>"The ring—the ring—her mother's ring!"</p> + +<p>Griselda put it into his feeble, uncertain grasp, and he murmured:</p> + +<p>"Put it on—put it on; and forgive me for all the misery I caused your +mother. I broke her heart; and then the flames—the cruel flames—took +from me the other poor child who loved me. My wife—Norah's +mother—well, if she had lived, I should have broken her heart, too."</p> + +<p>After this there were no coherent words—all was confusion again; and +before the Abbey clock had struck out eleven, the spirit had passed +away. Who shall dare to limit the love and forgiveness of God in Christ?</p> + + +<p>With this sad story of a misspent and miserable life we have no more to +do here. It rolls back into the mists of oblivion with tens of thousands +like it in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and in all the +centuries since the world began. We dare not say such life-stories leave +no trace behind, for true it is that the evil lives, when the doer of +the evil is gone. The two daughters of this unhappy man were bearing the +consequences of his sin. The child cast penniless on the cold world, the +beautiful girl by her side suffering as only such a nature could suffer +from the sense of humiliation and distress that her father had been a +man whose very name must perish with him—for who would wish to keep it +in remembrance? Oh for the good name which is better than riches to +leave to our children! Surely, when troubled for the future of our sons +and daughters, we may strive to leave them that which is better than +silver and gold—the inheritance of a good name, of parents who have +been honourable members of the great commonwealth, true to God, and true +to man, and have scorned the paths of deceit and guile, as well as the +ways of open sin and treacherous wickedness.</p> + +<p>"We must get back, Miss Griselda. Her ladyship will be returned. We must +go at once."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But Norah—the child?"</p> + +<p>"I will take care of her," Brian Bellis said. "See! she is almost +stupefied with her grief—she will scarce heed your departure!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot leave her—poor little girl! She has no one in the world but +me!" Griselda said, in a tone of deep emotion.</p> + +<p>While they were thus speaking, the stairs creaked under the weight of +Mrs. Betts, who, with one of the actors from the theatre, came to +inquire for Lamartine. Mrs. Betts was a coarse, loud-voiced woman, but +her nature was kind, and she pitied the child who had done so much for +her father with all her heart. She was a woman of decision too, and, +with one glance at the bed, she lifted the almost unconscious Norah in +her arms, and turning to the pale, haggard man, who had been acting in +Lamartine's place, she said:</p> + +<p>"You bide here while I take the child to my lodgings. And we must give +notice of the death, and club to get him decently buried. Mr. Palmer +will give a guinea, and we'll all follow in the same line. Harrison, do +you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes," the man said hurriedly; "but don't leave me long alone here. +I—I don't care to have the company of a dead man for long."</p> + +<p>"You are an arrant coward, then, for your pains! There, go into the +inner chamber, and I'll be back in half an hour. Turn the key in the +lock," Mrs. Betts said, as she began to trudge down the dark stairs with +Norah in her arms—"turn the key."</p> + +<p>But the man sprang to the door:</p> + +<p>"Don't—don't lock me in! I'll stay; but don't lock the door!"</p> + +<p>A scornful laugh from Mrs. Betts was the answer, and Graves coolly +turned the key as she was told.</p> + +<p>Brian Bellis had gone down to look for Zach and the torch, but no Zach +was to be found. He had made off to earn another gold-piece, and had +performed his errand well, as the event proved.</p> + +<p>Poor Griselda had need of the support of Graves's strong arm as she +hurried her along to the North Parade. What if Lady Betty were before +her! What if it should come to her being really refused admittance to +the house! Graves trembled to think of it, and of what she would +personally be made to suffer if she were not at her post in her +mistress's bedroom at the appointed hour.</p> + +<p>Griselda had really no thought about this. Her one longing was to get +back—back to her room, where she could pour forth her trouble, and +consider how she should tell him who had loved her so well, that she was +the daughter of the man by whose bedside they had stood together, all +unconscious that they were doing anything more than responding to the +entreaty of a child who was almost starving, and who was the only friend +the wretched man seemed to possess.</p> + +<p>To Graves's intense relief, Mrs. Abbott opened the door, and, in reply +to the anxious question, said:</p> + +<p>"No, her ladyship is not come home. Nobody has been here since Zach +returned to say you did not want him any more."</p> + +<p>"I never said so!" Graves exclaimed. "We've groped home as best we +could, for the rain and mist put out the lights, and as to the lamps, +the glass is so thick with damp you can scarce see a spark in them."</p> + +<p>While Graves was speaking, Griselda had gone wearily upstairs. Her cloak +was saturated with rain, and as she unfastened her <i>calèche</i> the masses +of her hair fell back. At the top of the first flight she stopped.</p> + +<p>"Graves! ask if a messenger has brought a letter for me."</p> + +<p>"No," Mrs. Abbott said, answering—"no. Not a soul has been near the +house since you left it."</p> + +<p>"No letter!—no letter!" Griselda murmured; and then, when she reached +her room, she threw aside her cloak and seated herself, with folded +hands, staring out into the embers of the fire with a look in her face +which made Graves say, as she hastened towards her:</p> + +<p>"My dear! my poor child! don't look like that. It is over now—and a +mercy too. There will never be any need to tell—no one need know. It's +safe with me, and no one else need know. Come, let me help you to bed +before I am wanted elsewhere. Come!"</p> + +<p>"I am not going to bed," Griselda said. "I must wait till he comes or +sends again."</p> + +<p>"We'll, the gentleman won't send at this time of night, that's certain! +Come, they will be back at any minute now! Let me put you to bed. I +declare," said Graves, shuddering, "a change in the weather like this is +enough to give one rheumatism! I don't call the Bath climate so +wonderful—frost one day, thaw and rain the next!"</p> + +<p>Graves made up the fire, and then, finding Griselda quite determined to +sit up, she left her to fetch some refreshment, wisely thinking that to +urge her against her will was hopeless just then.</p> + +<p>"She will come round, poor child! It is a dreadful shock! I almost wish +I'd told her last night; but I hadn't the courage to do it. I make no +doubt the Lord is leading her to Himself by a rough path. But I don't +like that look in her face; it is not natural. She ought to cry; tears +are always softening to grief. Not that one can call it grief to lose a +father like him!"</p> + +<p>No, it was not grief, but it was deep pity; and it was shame, and +soreness of heart, and wounded pride.</p> + +<p>Then that letter she had written in the fulness of her first joy—that +letter, by which she cast herself upon Leslie Travers, and confided to +him her trouble about Sir Maxwell. He had never answered it. He had come +to the house, it is true, but he had been sent away. Hours had gone by +since, and he made no sign. What could she think but that he had looked +with an unfavourable eye upon that outpouring of her full +heart—perhaps thought her reference to Sir Maxwell's hateful addresses +unmaidenly, unwomanly?</p> + +<p>Griselda went over all this again and again, sitting as Graves had left +her, her head resting against the back of a high Chippendale chair, her +feet on the brass fender, her hands clasped, and the wealth of her +beautiful hair covering her as with a mantle.</p> + +<p>"How shall I tell him?" she said at last. "I must tell him; he must +know; he will not wish me to be his wife now, perhaps. There is little +Norah; I cannot part from her. How selfish I am! I am not thinking of +her, or of anybody but myself. Oh, what a cruel, cruel blow to all my +hopes! Ah, mother! mother!" she exclaimed as she suddenly remembered the +case she had dropped into her wide pocket with the ring and the letter. +"Ah! mother!"</p> + +<p>For as her cold hands drew out the case, and she pressed the spring, it +flew open, and the mother's face seemed to have a living power for the +daughter.</p> + +<p>Sympathy and maternal love and tenderness were all seen on that +beautiful countenance; and yet there was a strength in the lines of the +lovely mouth, those rosy, curved lips, parting as if to say, "Be of good +courage! the battle may be sore; but victory comes at length. Trust, and +be not afraid!"</p> + +<p>Then tenderly and reverently Griselda unfolded the yellow paper, to +which a ring was fastened with many clumsy stitches of silk, and read +the faint characters of the few lines which were traced there.</p> + +<p>"I send you back the ring, as the tie between us is broken, Patrick. +Keep it for our child; she is in safety at Longueville Park. Do not +molest her; leave her to a better home than <i>you</i> can give her. You took +her there by my request; leave her there. Before you read this I shall +be no longer on earth; but I have forgiven you, dear, as I hope to be +forgiven. Ours has been the wrong. Oh, do not let the child suffer! +Leave her in the place where I was born and bred, and fulfil your vow, +never, never to do aught which may turn her uncle's heart against her. +It is my last request—my last hope! Adieu, Patrick!"</p> + +<p>These words were so blurred that they were illegible; and Griselda sunk +on her knees by the chair, and the tears, so long frozen, poured forth +in a flood till her full heart was relieved.</p> + +<p>Graves, coming in an hour later, found her with her fair head bowed on +her arms, asleep. Youth had triumphed over sorrow of heart, and sleep +had come, as it does come, with gentle power to blot out for a time the +sorrows of the young. Graves's eyes filled with tears as she looked at +her, and, taking a quilted cover from the bed, she threw it over her, +putting a pillow under her head, and murmuring:</p> + +<p>"Alas, poor dear! I fear the worst for her is <i>not</i> over. May God help +her! for man's help is vain. I can only pray for her. I dare not wake +her—not yet—not yet!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>BRAWLS.</h3> + + +<p>Leslie Travers had received an answer from David when he called at North +Parade that day, which had puzzled him not a little.</p> + +<p>"Miss Mainwaring could not receive any visitor," David was commissioned +to say.</p> + +<p>"Was Miss Mainwaring ill?" Leslie asked.</p> + +<p>"No, not that I know of, sir; but these are my orders."</p> + +<p>Surely there was something behind David's calm exterior, and Leslie +turned away dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>"She will be at the Assembly to-night," he thought. "I must possess my +soul in patience till then."</p> + +<p>So he dressed, and went to the Assembly Room, arriving just as Lady +Betty stepped out of her chair, in a new primrose-coloured sacque and +sea-green brocade petticoat. Her hair was powdered as usual, and several +brilliants flashed as she moved her head in answer to Leslie Travers's +bow.</p> + +<p>Where was Griselda? Lady Betty gave him no chance of asking the +question, as she swept past with all the dignity her little person could +command, and was soon forgetting her indignation against Griselda and +her rejection of Sir Maxwell Danby's suit, in her own delight in having +apparently captured Lord Basingstoke.</p> + +<p>Leslie wandered from room to room, and was trying to make up his mind +whether to brave all consequences, and boldly go to Lady Betty's house +and inquire for Griselda, when he was met by Mr. Beresford, an +acquaintance whom he had made at Mr. Herschel's house, who told him that +he was going to Bristol the next day to play in the orchestra at the +rehearsal for "Judas Maccabæus," and asking him to accompany him.</p> + +<p>"There will be room," he said, "in the conveyance that is hired. +Post-horses, and a large chariot, are engaged by the Herschels, who are +making a pretty fortune by music, and spending it all in those +jim-cracks of mirrors and tubes and micrometers."</p> + +<p>"Jim-cracks!" Leslie repeated. "I could not give them such a name; they +are like the steps in the ladder Mr. Herschel is climbing skyward."</p> + +<p>Mr. Beresford laughed.</p> + +<p>"I confess I am very well content to let the stars take their course +without my interference—I mean without my looking into the matter. +There is enough to do for me to consider my ways down below without +star-gazing. By-the-bye, <i>your</i> star of beauty is not here to-night; has +she set behind a cloud? Here come the two Miss Greenwoods, simpering and +putting on fashionable airs which don't suit them. Like their gowns, +such airs don't fit. Fancy their fat old mother asking me what my +intentions were!"</p> + +<p>Leslie could not help laughing at his friend's remarks on the various +beaux and belles who passed in review before them.</p> + +<p>Presently the young man said:</p> + +<p>"Look! did you see that?"</p> + +<p>"What?" Leslie Travers asked.</p> + + +<p>"Sir Maxwell was called out to speak to someone by his valet. He is +brewing mischief, I'll take my oath. Let us go into the room next the +lobby and find out."</p> + +<p>"I decline to act spy. You may do so if you like," Leslie said.</p> + +<p>And he turned away towards another part of the room, and began to talk +for half an hour to a retiring gentle girl, who, when the "contre danse" +was formed, had no partner. Leslie led her out to take a place in it, +and found himself <i>vis-a-vis</i> with Sir Maxwell Danby and one of the most +conspicuously dressed ladies who frequented Lady Miller's reunions at +Batheaston.</p> + +<p>She was attired in a loose white gown, supposed to be after the Greek +pattern, and her arms were bare, the loose sleeves caught up with a +large brooch. She wore her hair in a plain band with a fillet, and cut +low on the forehead. This lady had sat for her portrait to Gainsborough +in her youth, now long past, and she had become very stout since those +days, when many reigning belles repaired to Gainsborough's studio in +Ainslie's Belvedere.</p> + +<p>She talked in a loud voice, and Leslie's attention was soon diverted +from his companion, as he caught a name dear to him.</p> + +<p>"Miss Mainwaring is a beauty, no doubt of that," the lady said; "but a +trifle stiff and heavy in manner. Why is she absent to-night? <i>You</i> +ought to know, Sir Maxwell."</p> + +<p>Sir Maxwell stroked his chin, and said:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is better engaged, from all I know. Miss Mainwaring's +behaviour is a little eccentric."</p> + +<p>"Is there a romance connected with her? I do love a bit of pretty +romance. You know the <i>on dit</i> is that she is to be Lady Danby?"</p> + +<p>"My dear lady," Sir Maxwell said, "it is not safe to trust to <i>on dits</i>. +From what I have heard, Miss Mainwaring's tastes lie in a somewhat lower +level of society than that in which you, for instance, live and move. +There are, it seems, attractions for Miss Mainwaring in a quarter of the +town where we look for actors and actresses, and such-like cattle—that +is, supposing that we desire their acquaintance off the stage—which I, +for one, do not!"</p> + +<p>"I really hardly credit what you say; I vow I can't believe it. There's +some mistake, Sir Maxwell."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could agree with you," was the reply; "it is a matter which +affects me very deeply. I do assure you——"</p> + +<p>At this moment it was Sir Maxwell's turn to take the hand of Leslie's +partner, and he repeated in a voice which he meant should reach his ear:</p> + +<p>"Miss Mainwaring, the lady in question, pays daily and nighty visits to +these low purlieus. Charity is made the pretext, of course."</p> + +<p>The dance was over, and the hour for departure drew on.</p> + +<p>Leslie Travers watched his opportunity, and lay in wait for Sir Maxwell +in one of the lobbies.</p> + +<p>He was passing him with a lady on his arm, when Leslie said:</p> + +<p>"A word with you, sir, in private. I demand an apology for the shameful +lies you are circulating. They are lies, and——"</p> + +<p>"Softly, softly, my dear boy; let the presence of a lady be remembered."</p> + +<p>"Oh! pray let us have no high words!" the lady said. "For mercy's sake, +don't quarrel, gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>"Madam," Leslie Travers said, in an excited voice, "you have heard the +basest slanders uttered against—against one whom I would not name in +such company. Look you, sir," Leslie said, seizing the velvet sleeve of +Sir Maxwell's coat—"look you, sir; you have been a liar, and you are +now a coward. I will prove it."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, gentlemen; no brawling here," said the master of the +ceremonies, bustling up. "Settle your matters elsewhere. A man of honour +has his remedy."</p> + +<p>"Precisely!" said Sir Maxwell, who was white with rage. "Precisely! And +as to you, poor boy—poor insensate boy—I will send my answer to your +private residence as befits a gentleman; but I decline to brawl here. +Move off, sir, I say!"</p> + +<p>A knot of people had collected, and young Beresford was one. He took +Leslie's arm, and said:</p> + +<p>"Come away, and cool yourself."</p> + +<p>"I will not cool. I will throw the lie back in that fellow's throat; +and——"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Beresford drew Leslie away; but not before Lady Betty—cloaked +and muffled, ready to step into her chair—pressed through the little +crowd.</p> + +<p>"What is it? Goodness! What is amiss, Sir Maxwell?"</p> + +<p>"My dear lady, we have a madman to deal with—that's all. We will settle +our affairs on Claverton Down, as others have done."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy! don't fight a duel; it is too shocking, it's——"</p> + +<p>But Sir Maxwell hurried Lady Betty away, saying in his cold, hard voice, +which, however, trembled a little:</p> + + +<p>"That poor boy will repent insulting me; but let it not disturb you." +And then Sir Maxwell resigned Lady Betty to David's care, and she was +soon lost to sight in the recesses of the chair.</p> + +<p>The ubiquitous Zach had been on the watch, and had reached North Parade +before Lady Betty.</p> + +<p>Graves, who, as we know, had been anxiously watching for Lady Betty's +return, and congratulating herself that she had got Griselda safely to +her own room before her ladyship arrived, heard Zach's voice below.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Abbott loved news, and thus was ready to pardon the boy's late +return to the little box where he slept below-stairs, dignified with the +name of the "butler's pantry;" and Graves, at the sound of voices, went +to the top of the kitchen stairs, and hearing Miss Mainwaring's name, +went down two or three steps.</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Dear bless me, Mrs. Graves, I don't know! This boy says he has been +waiting for you all these hours down in Crown Alley."</p> + +<p>"That's an untruth," said Graves; "but what do I hear him saying about +the ladies?"</p> + +<p>"There's been a brawl in the lobby of the Assembly Room, and they say +the baronet and young Mr. Travers will fight afore they settle it."</p> + +<p>Graves descended now to the kitchen, and asked with bated breath if Zach +was telling the truth now, "for," she added, "the mouth of them that +speak lies shall be stopped."</p> + +<p>Zach's little eyes twinkled. He knew he had got his reward, so Mistress +Graves might say what she liked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he whined, "it's a fine thing to keep a little chap like me, who +works hard all day, awaiting in a place like Crown Alley."</p> + +<p>Graves took Zach by the arm and shook him vehemently.</p> + +<p>"You weren't there. You were gossiping by the Assembly Room door. What +did you hear there?"</p> + +<p>Zach made a face, and said:</p> + +<p>"Let go, and I'll tell you." Graves relaxed her hold. "I heard the young +gent tell Sir Maxwell he was a liar, and he'd fight him about Miss +Mainwaring. There! you've told me <i>I'm</i> a liar, and I'd like to fight +<i>you</i>" quoth Zach savagely.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>CHALLENGED.</h3> + + +<p>When the first heat of passion was over, Leslie Travers went sorrowfully +towards his home in King Street.</p> + +<p>Mr. Beresford would not leave him till he saw him safely to the door, +which was opened by Giles, who greeted his young master with a yawn, and +said:</p> + +<p>"The mistress has been a-bed these three hours. Ye are burning the +candle at both ends, Master Leslie."</p> + +<p>Something in Leslie's manner struck the old servant. He preceded his +young master to the parlour, threw on a log, and lighted two candles, +which stood like tall sentinels on either side of the mantelshelf, in +heavy brass candlesticks.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing like light and warmth if folks are down-hearted," he +said to himself; "and really the young master looks down-hearted. Ah! +it's the world and its ways. The mistress has the best of it."</p> + +<p>Little did Giles's mistress think, as she slept peacefully that night, +how the leaden hours dragged on in the room below, where Leslie Travers +sat and wrestled with that most relentless foe—an uneasy conscience.</p> + +<p>A hundred years ago duels were common enough, and any man who was +challenged would have been scouted as a coward if he had not accepted +the challenge.</p> + +<p>Leslie knew he had thrown the lie back to Sir Maxwell Danby, and that he +should be called upon to answer for it, perhaps by his life.</p> + +<p>He was no coward, but this very life had become sweeter to him than ever +before, during the last few days.</p> + +<p>He had gained the love of the woman who was to him a queen amongst all +women, and now in vindicating her from the tongue of the slanderer, he +might perhaps be on the eve of leaving her for ever.</p> + +<p>He had often looked death in the face when he had been lying ill at the +Grange, and sometimes for utter weariness it had seemed no fearful thing +to die. Since his mother had come under the influence of Lady +Huntingdon's ministers, Leslie had heard a great deal of "the King of +Terrors," as Death was termed in their phraseology, and he had often +thought that it had not worn that guise to him in times of sore +sickness—rather, as a friend's arm outstretched to lull his pain and +give him peace. But now—now that the strength of his young manhood was +renewed—now, when life was as a pleasant song in the possession of +Griselda's love, in dreams of a useful happy life, with her to +sympathize in all his hopes and aims—parting from life, and all that +life holds dear, was very different.</p> + +<p>As he sat by the fire, or left his chair and paced the room, he seemed +to hear words spoken in the very inner recesses of his soul.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> say unto you, love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, and +pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he argued, "yes; but it is not for myself, it is for her! That +man's disappointment and disgust at her rejection of his suit will goad +him to say all evil of her—my pure, beautiful Griselda! And yet——"</p> + +<p>Then he went hopelessly over the past week. That child who had come to +the Herschels' doorstep; the pity which she had called to life; that +expedition for the relief of the suffering man—if—if only that had +never been, all this had been averted. All for a stranger, a worthless +stranger, who was probably neither deserving of pity or help.</p> + +<p>If he had known how close between Griselda and this man the tie was, how +far the poor dying actor was from being a stranger to her, would his +feelings have been different? would the truth have changed the aspect of +things for him—made the situation more or less painful? I cannot tell.</p> + +<p>The gray January dawn, creeping in through the holes in the shutters, +and penetrating the room where the fire had burned out, and the candles +died in their sockets, found Leslie in a fitful doze in the chair, into +which, after walking up and down the room during the night, he had sunk +at last from sheer exhaustion. On first waking he could not recall what +had happened. He stretched his stiff limbs, and then the faint pallor of +the dawn showed him the familiar objects in the room, and the present +with all its stern realities became vivid.</p> + +<p>He tottered upstairs to his bed, not wishing his mother to find him +dressed in his gay evening clothes, when she came down to breakfast.</p> + +<p>As he passed her door he heard her voice raised in prayer.</p> + +<p>To pray aloud, in pleading earnest tones, had become a habit of the good +people with whom Mrs. Travers had cast in her lot, and Leslie paused as +he heard his name.</p> + +<p>"My son! my son! Convert him, turn him to Thee, for he is wandering far +from Thee, in pursuit of the vain pleasures of a sinful world!"</p> + +<p>"I need your prayers, sweet mother," the poor fellow murmured, as he +passed on to his room near hers. "Perhaps to-morrow I shall be beyond +their reach. Oh! that great mystery <i>beyond</i>!"</p> + +<p>The message came, as he expected, brought by Mr. Dickinson, who was to +be Sir Maxwell's second, and Leslie referred him to Mr. Beresford to +act for him.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity you can't square matters without fighting," Mr. Dickinson +said.</p> + +<p>He was the good-natured, easy-going man who had been in the jeweller's +shop on that day when Sir Maxwell had first had his evil suspicions +roused.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity, but Sir Maxwell is bent upon fighting, so the sooner it is +over, the better. He is an old hand—and you? Can you handle a sword?"</p> + +<p>"Fairly well," Leslie said.</p> + +<p>"It is proposed to have a round with swords. The place—Claverton Down, +out Widcombe way; the time—dawn, to-morrow. It is Sunday, by-the-bye, +and we are safe not to be hindered. What answer shall I take to Danby?"</p> + +<p>"Say I am ready," Leslie said; "ready—aye, ready!"</p> + +<p>"You don't feel inclined for a compromise, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, I do not. He has heaped insults on me which I have overlooked, but +he has dared to slander one whom I love better than life. Do you suppose +I can brook that?"</p> + +<p>"Dear! dear!" exclaimed Mr. Dickinson. "Women are the bottom of half the +mischief that is brewed in the world, I do believe."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dickinson had not been gone long before Mr. Beresford arrived. He +ran in to the Herschels to excuse himself from accompanying them to +Bristol, saying he had urgent business, and then returned to his friend.</p> + +<p>All the arrangements were made, and the utmost secrecy agreed on.</p> + +<p>"No one need know"—hesitating—"certainly not Miss Mainwaring or my +mother. I will employ to-day in setting my house in order, and leave +letters behind me."</p> + +<p>"Don't say 'behind me,' man. Hundreds of people who fight do not get a +scratch. You will be all right, and marry the lady, and live happy ever +after."</p> + +<p>"I am in no jesting mood, Beresford; and although you profess to look on +the whole affair as a joke, you do not do so, in your secret heart. You +do not forget, any more than I do, that last month we walked together to +Claverton Down to see the spot where Viscount Barré asked for his life +of Count Rice, not much over a year ago."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>"Ah! that was a different matter. We are to have no pistols, only a +little sword-play. I hope one of Danby's evil eyes may be put out, and, +better still, his tongue slit. Aim at his mouth, with that end in view. +Yes, try for the mouth and eyes, Travers."</p> + +<p>"Has the matter got wind in Bath?" Leslie asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh! the gossips have got hold of the quarrel. But dear heart, man, +there is seldom a day but there is a war of words in the Assembly or +Pump Room."</p> + +<p>Leslie Travers spent the rest of the day in his room, excusing himself +to his mother on the plea of indisposition. And, indeed, she was too +much occupied with a prayer-meeting at the Countess of Huntingdon's +house to do more than pay Leslie a visit at intervals, see that his fire +burned brightly, and exhort him to take the soup and wine she carried to +him herself. Thus, all unconscious of the sword which was hanging over +her, gentle Mrs. Travers went on her way.</p> + +<p>Unconscious, too, of trouble affecting their near neighbour and friend, +Mr. and Miss Herschel were at Bristol, rehearsing, amidst the +congratulations of the audience privileged to be present, the great +oratorio to be performed in a few days under the <i>bâton</i> of Ronzini, who +was to conduct it.</p> + +<p>Unconscious of the peril in which Leslie Travers stood, Griselda was +occupied with the event of the previous night—her father's death—and +the necessary confession to Leslie Travers, of her relationship to the +dying man, by whose bedside they had watched together.</p> + +<p>The house in North Parade was unusually quiet that day, for Lady Betty +had caught cold, and kept Graves in perpetual attendance.</p> + +<p>A few visitors arrived, but were refused admittance, and Griselda waited +in vain for any message from Leslie Travers.</p> + +<p>She had begun several letters to him, and then torn them into fragments.</p> + +<p>Then there was the thought of poor desolate little Norah, as she saw her +carried away from that attic where her father lay dead, in Mrs. Betts's +arms.</p> + +<p>Had she not promised to befriend her? and how could she fulfil her +promise?</p> + +<p>Graves kept out of her way; she had heard enough from Zach to make her +fear the worst about the quarrel between Sir Maxwell Danby and Mr. +Travers. She dreaded to be questioned, and yet she longed to speak.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty was a fractious invalid, and she was constantly crying out +that her illness was brought on by the conduct of that minx upstairs, +telling Graves to let her know she never wished to see her face +again—that she had disgraced her, and that she might beg her bread for +all she cared; that she hoped Sir Maxwell would fight that young +jackanapes, and get him out of the way. Then she cried that she had got +the smallpox—her back ached, her eyes ached—she must have the doctor. +Graves must send for the doctor—Mr. Cheyne, a young man who claimed to +be a grandson of the great Dr. Cheyne, who had been a celebrated doctor +in Bath in the days of Beau Nash.</p> + +<p>Graves preserved a calm, not to say stolid, manner, and this could alone +have carried her through that long, dull winter's day. Her anxiety did +not centre in Lady Betty, nor the pimple on her cheek, which she thought +might be the precursor of the dreaded smallpox, which the little lady +awaited Mr. Cheyne's assurances to confirm, and professed to believe +that she was smitten by that dreadful malady.</p> + +<p>Graves's heart was occupied with the sorrow of the young mistress +upstairs, not with the fancied illness of the lady who, propped up in +bed in an elaborate nightgown, surmounted by a cap furbished with pink +ribbons, was enough to wear out the patience even of her patient +waiting-woman.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cheyne was slow in making his appearance, and the long, dull day had +nearly closed, and still he did not answer the summons sent to him by +David at his mistress's request.</p> + +<p>Graves had sent Mrs. Abbott's daughter up to Griselda's room with her +dinner, and preferred waiting till it was nearly dark before she stood +face to face with her. She dreaded lest her face should betray the fear +at her heart.</p> + +<p>It was nearly dark when she came to Griselda's room. She found the table +covered with letters and papers, and the case with her mother's portrait +and the old jewel-case standing on it.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were never coming—never," Griselda said, in an injured +voice. "Oh, dear Graves! do a kind thing for me this evening! Go to +Crown Alley, and take this money for Norah's black dress. Oh, dear +Graves! I must wear a black gown; he was my father. Look!" she said; "I +have put on her little wedding-ring. There is a posy inside. I need +those words now—'Patience and Hope.' Why won't you speak, Graves? It is +as if you had not heard."</p> + +<p>"I hear—I hear, my dear; but as to leaving her ladyship, I don't see +how I can do it—not till she is off to sleep. If the doctor came, he +might give her a draught to settle her."</p> + +<p>"I <i>do</i> want you to go to Crown Alley, and to—to King Street, to take a +letter to Mr. Travers. It is so odd; so unaccountable, that he never +writes nor sends. I <i>must</i> know why. Perhaps he has heard that I am that +poor man's daughter, and he feels he can't marry one so low-born. Yet it +is not like him to cast me off, is it, Graves?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Graves, "I'll try what I can do; but, after all, I'd as +lief you left the letter till to-morrow. Leave it till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow! No; who can tell what to-morrow may bring? No; I cannot +wait. Graves, I feel as if I should go mad, unless I hear soon if Mr. +Travers is angry, and has cast me off."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure he has not done that, my dear; you may be at rest on +that score."</p> + +<p>"How can I rest? Well, he must be told about my father—my <i>father</i>! I +Do you think he has found it out, and that this keeps him away?"</p> + +<p>"No; I don't," said Graves shortly.</p> + +<p>"Hark! there's a ring! Run down—run down, and see who it is! Run, +Graves!"</p> + +<p>Graves departed, glad to be released, and returned presently:</p> + +<p>"It's the boy, Miss Griselda."</p> + +<p>"The boy! What boy?"</p> + +<p>"The boy that came the night the man"—Graves corrected herself—"the +gentleman, Mr. Mainwaring, was dying. He has a message for you."</p> + +<p>"I will come down and see him. He shall take this letter to King Street. +He shall wait and bring me an answer. I shall meet no one on the stairs. +Let me pass you."</p> + +<p>Brian Bellis was standing in the entrance-hall, and Griselda went +eagerly towards him:</p> + +<p>"Have you brought me tidings?"</p> + +<p>And Brian replied:</p> + +<p>"I have taken Norah home to my aunt's house. I've had a piece of work to +do it; but they will keep her till after the funeral. He is to be buried +to-morrow afternoon. I thought you would like to know this, madam."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes," Griselda said; "and I will reward you for your care of +Norah."</p> + +<p>"I want no reward, madam," Brian said quickly. "Have you any +commands?—for it is late. The actors at the theatre have subscribed for +the burial; but——"</p> + +<p>"Not enough—I understand. Follow me upstairs—gently—softly," she +said, as she led the way to a small room at the head of the stairs where +Graves worked.</p> + +<p>Griselda pointed to the door; and then going to her own room on the +upper story, she took up the letter she had at last written to Leslie +Travers, and the packet of money she had sealed for Graves to take to +Crown Alley. When she rejoined Brian, she said:</p> + +<p>"I entrust you with these two packets. I had them ready. The money is +for the—for my sister. Let her have decent black, and proper mourning; +and there are two guineas for the funeral of—her father. But," Griselda +said, with a strange pang of self-reproach she could not have defined, +as she felt how little the death of her father and her sister's sorrow +weighed in the balance against an aching fear and anxiety about Mr. +Travers—"but this letter I want you to put into the hands of Mr. Leslie +Travers in King Street. For this—oh! I would reward you in any way that +you desire. Bring me an answer back, and I will owe you eternal +gratitude. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>Yes, Brian heard. It seemed all but impossible that this tall, beautiful +lady should clasp her hands as a suppliant to him. His large, honest +eyes sought hers, and the appeal in them touched his boyish heart.</p> + +<p>"I will do what you wish, madam, and as quickly as I can."</p> + + +<p>"Thank you—I thank you, dear boy, with all my heart. Oh, that you may +bring back a word to comfort me!—for I am shadowed with the cloud of +coming, as well as past, misfortune; and I scarce know how to be patient +till the pain of suspense is relieved." Then, laying her hand on Brian's +shoulder, she said: "Promise to see Mr. Travers, and put the letter in +his hand."</p> + +<p>And Brian promised, and kept his promise faithfully.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE EARLY MORNING.</h3> + + +<p>Griselda returned to her room to watch the timepiece, and listen for the +striking of the Abbey clock, as the slow hours passed, and she paced the +floor in her restlessness from the fireplace to the window, and then +back again from the window to the fire.</p> + +<p>About ten o'clock Graves came in with a cup of chocolate, and to tell +her that Mr. Cheyne, the doctor, had seen Lady Betty, and pronounced her +really ill this time. She was to keep in bed, and if not better on the +following day, he must let blood from her arm.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the doctor, Miss Griselda—this young Doctor Cheyne?"</p> + +<p>"I may have spoken to him. Yes, I have seen him; but what is he to me?"</p> + +<p>"He asked for you, that's all," said Graves; "how you did, and +whether——"</p> + +<p>Graves stopped. It was a habit of hers to break off suddenly in her +speech, and Griselda scarcely noticed it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Is</i> the boy, Brian Bellis, come back?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Griselda; he won't be here again to-night. I hear he is nephew +to the Miss Hoblyns, the mantua-makers, and that they look sharp after +him; they would not let him run about the streets at midnight."</p> + +<p>"Midnight! It's not midnight! Oh, Graves, I am so tired!"</p> + +<p>"Go to bed, and sleep till morning; that is my advice to you, and read a +verse in God's Word to go to sleep on. You'll never know rest till you +find it in the Lord, my dear. Let me help you to undress."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not going to bed. Promise, Graves, if Brian Bellis comes to +the door with a letter you will bring it here. Promise——"</p> + +<p>Graves nodded her head in token of assent, and departed.</p> + +<p>There are few troubles, and few anxieties, which do not find a temporary +balm in the sleep of youth.</p> + +<p>And Griselda, worn out at last, threw herself on her bed, and fell, +against her will, into a deep and dreamless slumber.</p> + +<p>The Abbey clock had struck eleven when Graves, softly opening the door, +found the fire low, and the candles burned out; while on the bed lay +Griselda, dressed, but with the coverlet drawn over her under the canopy +of the old-fashioned tent-bed, which was the bed then commonly in use +for rooms which were not spacious enough to receive a stately +four-poster.</p> + +<p>Graves had a small tin candlestick in one hand, and a letter. She +carefully shielded the light, and, looking down at the sleeping girl, +murmured:</p> + +<p>"I cannot wake her. I will leave the letter on the bed; she will see it +in the morning the first thing—better she should not see it till then. +I promised to bring it, but I did not promise to rouse her if she was +asleep. Poor child! Poor dear! May the Lord pity her and draw her to +Himself!"</p> + +<p>Graves moved gently about the room, and put the tinder-box near the +candlestick, and then softly closed the door, and went downstairs to sit +by the side of the fractious invalid, who declared she could not be left +for a moment, and who kept her patient handmaiden awake for hours, till +at last she, too, sunk into a heavy sleep.</p> + +<p>Never a night passes but in the silent watches some hearts are aching, +some sick and weary ones are tossing in their uneasy beds, some +suffering ones are racked with pain, either of body or mind! Our own +turn must surely come; but till it does come, we are so slow to realize +that for us, too, the night that should hush us to repose, and bring on +its wings the angel of sleep for our refreshing, will bring instead +sorrowful vigils by the dying, mourning for the dead, or cruel and +biting anxiety for the living, so that tears are our meat, as we cry, +"Where is now our God?"</p> + +<p>Griselda slept on, and it was in the chill of the early morning before +the dawn that she awoke.</p> + +<p>She started up, and at first could not remember what had happened. It +was quite dark, and she sprang from the bed, and, groping for the +tinder-box, struck a spark, and lighted a candle.</p> + +<p>She was still scarcely awake, and it was only by slow degrees that she +recalled how the evening before she had waited, and waited in vain, for +a letter—his letter! an answer to hers—in which in a few words she had +told him of her father, and asked him to release her from her promise if +so he pleased. Then she had asked if his silence since the letter she +had written two days before, meant that he desired her to think no more +of him. Only to <i>know</i>, and not to be kept in uncertainty, she craved +for a reply—she begged for it—by the hand of Brian Bellis, who had +brought this, her last appeal.</p> + +<p>"No answer, no answer!" she exclaimed; "and hark! that is the clock +striking—three—four. No answer—it is all over!" And as the words +escaped her lips she saw lying on the floor a letter, which had fallen +from the bed when she had sprung from it.</p> + +<p>She picked it up, and became quiet and like herself at once. She saw by +the address it was from Leslie Travers, for in the corner was written: +"By the hand of Brian Bellis."</p> + +<p>The tall candle cast its light on the sheet of Bath post, which had been +carefully sealed, and threw a halo round the young head which bent over +it.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have received no message from you"—so the letter +began—"but, dearest love, sweetheart, could you dream that any +circumstance could alter my love for you? Nay, Griselda, I will +not permit such a possibility to enter my head, or wake a +sorrowful echo in my heart.</p> + +<p>"My only love, I am yours till death—and death may be near! I +go to-morrow to meet the man on Claverton Down who has first +persecuted you with his suit, and then, rejected, has vilely +slandered you. I gave him the lie, and he has challenged me to +fight, and as a man of honour I cannot draw back. If I live—I +live for you; if I die—I die for you. I would there were any +other way whereby I could vindicate your honour and my own. I +am no coward, nor do I fear death; but I think these duels are +a remnant of barbarism, meet for the old Romans, perchance, +over whose buried city we move day by day, but unworthy of men +who call themselves by the name of Christ.</p> + +<p>"My love, when you read this letter, be not too much dismayed.</p> + +<p>"When the dawn breaks over the city, we shall have met—that +base man and I—and it may be that I shall fall under his more +practised hand. If it is so, I commend you, in a letter, to my +poor mother. You will weep together, and you shall have a home +with her, and you will be united in sorrow. The child—your +sister—shall be her care, as she would have been mine.</p> + +<p>"I have made my last will and testament—duly attested; and in +that you are mentioned as if you had been my wife.</p> + +<p>"And so I say farewell, my only love.</p> + +<p>"L. T."</p></blockquote> + +<p>A strange calm seemed to have come over Griselda as she read these +words.</p> + +<p>The restlessness and feverish anxiety of the preceding days were gone. +In their place was the firm resolve—immediately taken—to stop this duel +with her own hand. That resolution once taken, she did not falter. But +Claverton Down!—how should she reach it? There was no time to lose. The +dawn broke between seven and eight—it was now four o'clock and past.</p> + +<p>The Bible lay open on the table, and her eye fell upon the words: "They +that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up on +wings like eagles; they shall walk and not be weary; they shall run and +not faint." I do not think that Griselda had ever known up to this +moment what it was to wait on the Lord. Perhaps faithful Graves's words +had struck deeper than she knew!</p> + +<p>"I want strength now," she said. "Give it to me, Lord! Direct me—help +me—for I must go on this quest alone."</p> + +<p>Then she made ready for her departure, wrapping herself in the long +cloak she had worn when she went to her father's dying bed, and covering +her face with a thick veil under her hood.</p> + +<p>The few hours' sleep had refreshed her, and she felt strong to perform +her mission.</p> + +<p>"Only not to be too late," she said; "not too late!"</p> + +<p>The courage of many a woman would have failed in prospect of a walk in +the dark through the suburbs of Bath.</p> + +<p>There were watchmen here and there, and she might ask the way of one, +perhaps; but no one must know her errand, or she might be stopped from +performing it.</p> + +<p>The clock struck five, in deep sonorous tones just as Griselda crept +noiselessly downstairs, and with trembling hands drew back the bolts of +the door, turned the key in the lock, and, closing it behind her, went +out into the winter's morning.</p> + +<p>The sky had cleared, and the rain of the past two days had ceased. There +were breaks in the clouds, and in a rift Venus, in full beauty, seemed +to smile on Griselda with the smile of a friend.</p> + +<p>Widcombe Hill had to be climbed, and then beyond, at some distance, +Claverton Down stretched away in gentle undulations. In 1790, it was a +desolate and unfrequented tract of moorland, with here and there a few +trees, but no sign of habitation except a lonely cottage or hut, at long +distances apart.</p> + +<p>Griselda's figure, in its black garments, did not attract attention from +a boisterous party who had just turned out from a night's revel. Their +coarse songs and laughter jarred on her ear, and she shrank under the +shadow of a church portico till they had passed.</p> + +<p>Presently the watchman's voice broke the stillness as he ascended +Widcombe Hill.</p> + +<p>"It's just six o'clock, and a fine star-lit morning."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Yes, it was a fine morning. The rift in the clouds had widened, and +above, the sky was clear, and the host of heaven was shining in full +glory.</p> + +<p>After two or three nights, when dull lowering skies had made +astronomical observations impossible, the change in the weather was +welcome to those who "swept the heavens," and found in them the grand +interest and beauty of their lives.</p> + +<p>The Herschels had returned to their new home, after a long and fatiguing +day in Bristol. There had been not a little worry connected with the +arrangements for the oratorio, the proper distribution of the parts, +jealousies amongst the performers, and missing sheets of score. But +Caroline Herschel immediately recommenced the arrangement of the new +house, which a day's absence in Bristol had interrupted. The sorting of +books and music, the instruction of Betty in her duties, with not a +little scolding for the neglect of the work she had been left to get +through during her mistress's absence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Herschel, after taking slight refreshment, went to his new +observatory at the top of the house, and began to arrange all his +instruments and draw a plan for the furnace, which he intended to make +in the workshop below, where the tube for the great reflector was to be +cast.</p> + +<p>A stand, too, for the large instrument would have to be carefully +constructed, and William Herschel was in the midst of his calculations +for this, and preparation of a plan to give the workmen early on the +ensuing week, when a tap at the door announced Caroline.</p> + +<p>"William!" she said, "the sky is clear. Venus is shining gloriously. +Can I help to arrange the telescope?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes," William Herschel said, going to the window and throwing it +up. "Yes; lose no time, for it is getting on for morning."</p> + +<p>Presently Caroline said, as she looked out:</p> + +<p>"There is a chaise waiting at the end of the street, with post-horses."</p> + +<p>But her brother's eyes were directed upwards, and he scarcely noticed +her remark.</p> + + +<p>"Well," he said, "get the micrometer."</p> + +<p>Caroline's feminine curiosity was roused, and presently she saw a figure +muffled in a long cloak glide down the street to the opening where the +carriage stood.</p> + +<p>This was followed by another, and then, after some delay, the chariot +drove off.</p> + +<p>Alexander Herschel did not generally take part in these nightly vigils, +although he lent his assistance in the daytime in the workshop, and in +the correspondence about the music, which was very frequently necessary.</p> + +<p>But about six o'clock Alexander appeared, and said:</p> + +<p>"Did you hear carriage-wheels roll off not long ago?"</p> + +<p>William Herschel did not answer. He had just brought a double star into +the proper focus, and Caroline stood by with note-book and pencil, ready +to write at his dictation.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, in a low voice; "I heard carriage-wheels. What of +that?"</p> + +<p>"There is a rumour in the town that Leslie Travers is to fight a duel on +Claverton Down—with that beast, Sir Maxwell Danby—this morning."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it is true," Caroline answered. "Hush, Alex!" for +William Herschel called out: "Write! Attend!"</p> + +<p>The necessary figures were jotted down, and then Caroline said:</p> + +<p>"Do you think Leslie Travers was going off in that carriage?"</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of it. I shall follow and find out."</p> + +<p>"Take care, Alex—do not get mixed up in any quarrel; and there is the +new anthem of Spohr's at the Octagon this morning. You will be wanted."</p> + +<p>"Well, what if I am?" Alexander said. "Surely, Caroline, the life or +death of a friend is of more importance than an anthem?"</p> + +<p>"You do not know that it is life or death; you are conjecturing. Yes, +William, I am ready!"</p> + + +<p>This was characteristic of Caroline Herschel. It was not really that she +had no human sympathies or affections; on the contrary, her love for her +brother was absorbing, and she had but one aim—to soar with him to the +unexplored regions of space; and to effect this, the business in hand, +whether it was music, or mixing loam for the mould of the new tube, or +in giving a lesson in singing, or in singing herself at a concert, was +paramount with her. Such characters, persistent, and with single aims, +are often misunderstood by natures like Alexander Herschel's, who love +to skim the surface, and pass from one thing to another, as their mood +changes.</p> + +<p>"You take it mighty coolly," he said, "that the life of a man we call +our friend is in peril. I confess I am not so hardened."</p> + +<p>And then he closed the door with a bang, and ran downstairs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE BITTER END.</h3> + + +<p>Meanwhile the lonely woman, shrouded in her long cloak, pursued her way. +She missed it again and again, and was forced to inquire if she was +right, first of a countryman she met, and once at a cottage at Widcombe +of a woman who was standing at the door with a lanthorn in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Two miles further," she said. "What are you going there for, pray, if I +may be so bold?"</p> + +<p>"On an errand of life or death," Griselda said, the words escaping her +lips almost unawares.</p> + +<p>"If that's it, and a duel is to be fought, it most like is death to one +of 'em. I am watching for my husband; he has never come home, and I fear +something has happened. He is often in liquor, and may have stumbled +into the quarry. I call <i>mine</i> real troubles, I do. What do the gentry +want with stabbing one another to the heart about paltry quarrels? Why, +the French lord was killed out on Claverton Down by Count Rice a few +months ago, and all about a trumpery pack of cards—a pack of lies, more +like! I've no patience with folks who quarrel with no reason. You look +very wan, my dear," the woman said, as Griselda turned away. "I can give +you a cup of milk."</p> + +<p>But Griselda shook her head. To eat or drink at that moment was +impossible to her.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she asked, "how I shall know the spot where the men fight."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you'll see four tall fir-trees, and a big stone. It won't be light +yet. I'll tell you what. I'll lend you my lanthorn. Here, it's trimmed! +You can carry it along." Griselda hesitated as the woman went on: "Take +the road straight as a line from the church. Then you'll come to +cross-roads. You follow on with the one which leads to the right hand, +and you'll come to the firs and the big stone. The ground where the fine +lord's body lay for hours is just hard by. Will you have the lanthorn; +you can leave it as you come back?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not—I think not; but thank you kindly."</p> + +<p>And then Griselda pressed on—on to the church, on, as she was directed, +along a lonely road, till the tall sign-post was reached, with the four +arms painted white, stretching out in four directions. On then to the +right, eastward, for the first faint pallor of the dawn was in the sky. +It was clear now, and the moon in its last quarter was hanging low in +the horizon.</p> + +<p>Griselda's feet ached, and when she saw the tall fir-trees, and the +large rough stone, she hastened towards it, and sat down to rest. All +was still; the silence broken only by the murmur in the dark plumes of +the fir-trees as the crisp cold air wandered through the branches.</p> + +<p>The silence was so profound that Griselda could almost hear the beating +of her heart. Here alone, unprotected, she could hardly realize her own +position. Whatever happened to her, she thought, there was no one who +would care so very much, except him whom she had come to save. Lady +Betty would cry hysterically, but be more angry than sorry; little +Norah—poor little Norah—perhaps she loved her; and Graves—faithful +Graves.</p> + +<p>Presently there was a rumbling sound as of distant wheels. Griselda +started up, but she saw nothing.</p> + +<p>Then she advanced from the shadow of the trees, and looked over the open +space. The dawn was breaking now, and she saw two figures stooping over +the ground, and apparently marking it.</p> + +<p>In breathless anxiety she waited and watched. She was too far off to +distinguish the men, but she presently discerned four more figures +appearing at the ridge of rising ground, where the Down dipped rather +sharply to the valley below.</p> + +<p>Then there were two figures isolated a little from the rest. They seemed +to meet and part again, and then Griselda waited no longer. She ran +forward and skimmed the turf with fleet steps—steps that were quickened +by a great fear.</p> + +<p>Breathless and voiceless she reached the spot just as the two +combatants' swords had clashed, and the seconds on either side had given +the signal for another round. Griselda went up to Leslie Travers and +seized his arm.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she said, "for my sake."</p> + +<p>Her appearance seemed to paralyze both combatants.</p> + +<p>"It is for your sake," Leslie said in a low voice. "Let go, my love—let +go! I must carry this on to the bitter end."</p> + +<p>"You shall not! Desist, sir!" she said, turning upon Sir Maxwell Danby.</p> + +<p>Then the seconds drew near, and the doctor, Mr. Cheyne.</p> + +<p>"I will have no blood shed for me," Griselda said, gathering strength in +the emergency of the moment. "I will stand here till you give up this +conflict."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, fair lady, we have no intention of giving up till we +have settled our little affair as men of honour should," said Sir +Maxwell.</p> + +<p>"Stand back, Griselda—stand back!" Leslie cried in despairing tones. +"There is only one condition on which I will give in; yonder base man +knows what that condition is. He must withdraw the lies he has uttered +concerning you."</p> + +<p>"I know not what the lies are," Griselda said; "but if lies, will the +death of him who uttered them, or of you who resent them, convince those +who believe them that they <i>are</i> lies? Nay," she said, her breast +heaving and her voice trembling, though every slowly-uttered word was +distinctly heard. "Nay, wrong-doing can never, never make evil good, or +set wrong right."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, fairest of your sex," said Sir Maxwell; "permit me to ask +you to withdraw. We will prove our strength once more; and, unwilling as +I am to do so in the presence of a lady, I must, as your—your noble +friend says, carry this matter through."</p> + +<p>"Can't you come to an understanding, gentlemen?" Mr. Dickinson said. +"Upon my soul, I wish I could wash my hands of the whole business. A +miserable business it is!"</p> + +<p>"Beresford," Leslie said to his second, "help me to get free from her, +or she may be hurt in the conflict."</p> + +<p>But Griselda still clung to his arm; and how it might have ended who can +tell, had not Sir Maxwell said in his satirical, bitter voice:</p> + +<p>"It is new in the annals of the world's history for a woman to be used +as a shield by a man! Coward—poltroon is a more fitting phrase for such +an one."</p> + +<p>Mr. Beresford caught Griselda as with a desperate effort Leslie +unclasped the long white fingers which were clasped round his arm, and +saying: "Guard her carefully," the signal was again given, and a fierce +struggle ensued, which ended in Leslie Travers lying motionless on the +ground with a sword-thrust through his breast; and Sir Maxwell, binding +his hand, which was bleeding, with a lace handkerchief, asked coolly of +Mr. Cheyne, who was bending over Leslie:</p> + +<p>"He is alive, I think?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is alive; but I doubt if he will live ten minutes unless I stop +the bleeding. This, sir, is a pretty piece of business for you."</p> + +<p>For a moment, Sir Maxwell's face blanched with fear; then, recovering +himself, he made a sign to his servant, who ran on towards the dip in +the moor, and presently another servant appeared with two horses. The +valet mounted one, and Sir Maxwell the other; and before the doctor or +Mr. Beresford had time to consider what course to take, Sir Maxwell +Danby was galloping off in the direction of the high-road which led to +London.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Griselda knew no more till she found herself in a strange room, and with +an unfamiliar face bending over her.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" she asked, sitting up, and looking round bewildered.</p> + +<p>"You are safe with us, my dear young lady. You must take this glass of +reviving mixture, made from a receipt of my mother's."</p> + +<p>And Caroline Herschel held the glass to Griselda's lips.</p> + +<p>"How did I get here?"</p> + +<p>"My brother Alexander brought you; but do not ask further questions, but +lie still."</p> + +<p>The draught seemed to restore poor Griselda to consciousness, and with +consciousness the memory of what had happened came back.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said; "did—did he die? I saw him fall. Yes; I remember now. +For pity's sake, answer me!"</p> + +<p>It was well for Griselda that she was in the hands of a person at once +so sincere and so really kind-hearted. While many well-meaning people +would have fenced the question, and put it off, she answered quietly:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Leslie Travers is very dangerously hurt. He is lying in his +mother's house hard by; and all that care and tenderness can do will be +done."</p> + +<p>"Can I go to him?" Griselda said piteously.</p> + +<p>"No; not yet—not yet. You are exhausted with all you have gone through. +Your duty is to lie quiet."</p> + +<p>Duty was ever first with Caroline Herschel herself, and she thought it +should be first with others also.</p> + +<p>Griselda struggled to her feet; but a deadly faintness overcame her, and +she sank back again, crying:</p> + +<p>"His life for me—for me! Oh! I am not worthy——" and then she burst +into hysterical weeping.</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Mainwaring," her friend said, "the doctors say that Mr. +Travers's only chance of life is to be kept quiet. If the wound bleeds +again, he must die. If he is kept motionless and calm, he may live. Do +you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Griselda said; "it is always waiting with me. Look! that is my +mother's wedding-ring! There is a posy inside—'Patience and Hope.' But +I can only have patience; I dare not hope. Did you know that my father +was the actor who died in Crown Alley?—that Norah, the beggar-child at +your door in Rivers Street, is—is my sister?"</p> + +<p>"No; I did not know it. But why should you be distressed?"</p> + +<p>"Because I know it has been the root of all this trouble. I know it is +so! That bad man's evil eye was on us in the church that day—that +bright, beautiful day—when was it?"</p> + +<p>Caroline Herschel thought she was wandering, and stroked her head, and +said gently:</p> + +<p>"I will draw down the blind, and you must try to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Hark to the bells!" Griselda said. "They sound like +joy-bells—joy-bells. They ought to be funeral bells."</p> + +<p>"It is Sunday afternoon! They ring for service in the churches."</p> + +<p>Then Griselda turned her head away, saying:</p> + +<p>"Sunday! What a Sunday this has been! Sunday—Sabbath, Graves calls +it—a day of rest—rather, a day of strife, and sin, and sorrow."</p> + +<p>Yes; it had been a Sunday never to be forgotten by those who were +concerned in that day's work.</p> + +<p>Long before the evening shadows fell over the city, the story of Sir +Maxwell Danby's duel with Leslie Travers was circulating in the various +coteries of Bath society.</p> + +<p>The gay world expressed pity and surprise.</p> + +<p>The gossips' tongues were busy about the beautiful lady, who had been +the cause of the melancholy affair.</p> + +<p>That she was the daughter of an actor, who was on that very afternoon +laid in his hastily-dug grave, was a shock to the feelings of the +<i>élite</i> amongst whom Griselda Mainwaring had been considered worthy to +be reckoned, by the unwritten laws of social etiquette.</p> + +<p>The daughter of an actor—a mere playwright—who by hard drinking had +reduced himself to poverty, and finally killed himself by his evil +habits!</p> + +<p>What a fall was this for the stately beauty who had held herself a +little apart from the crowd, and had often been secretly complained of +as one who thought herself mighty good, and vastly superior to many who +now could hold their heads with pride and talk of her as their inferior!</p> + +<p>The religious clique who frequented the Countess of Huntingdon's Chapel, +of which Mrs. Travers was an esteemed member, were filled with horror; +and the terrible event was alluded to, or rather made the basis of the +sermon, in the Vineyards Chapel that evening.</p> + +<p>In many hearts there was awakened real sympathy for the stricken mother, +and the sad condition of the girl who must feel that she had, even if +unwittingly, been the cause of the duel.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty, when she was told by Mr. Cheyne of what had happened, +suddenly recovered from her indisposition, and sent off several +three-cornered notes to her friends to say the lamentable occurrence +had, of course, separated her from the <i>unhappy</i> girl, to whom she was +no real relation, and with whom she was sure the dear departed Mr. +Longueville would not wish her to have any further dealings. It was not +to be expected that a woman of rank and family could be mixed up with +one of low birth who had made herself notorious.</p> + +<p>Graves, who was commissioned to despatch these notes, one of which was +addressed to Lord Basingstoke, handed them to Zach, to whom she said:</p> + +<p>"There have been letters given to your hand that have never been +delivered. Let me tell you that you may deliver these or not, as you +choose, you little spy!"</p> + +<p>And Zach grinned, and said:</p> + +<p>"Give me a crown, and I'll take them safe enough."</p> + +<p>"I'd as lief give you a crack on the crown of your head!" said Graves +wrathfully; "you little wretch!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.</h3> + + +<p>It was late on that memorable Sunday evening when Griselda watched her +opportunity, and rising from her bed, dressed, and went downstairs.</p> + +<p>Only the servant was in the house, for the Herschels were gone to the +evening service in the Octagon Chapel, and had not yet returned.</p> + +<p>Griselda let herself quietly out, and, with slow and faltering steps, +reached the door of the house, where, as everyone believed, Leslie +Travers lay dying of his wounds.</p> + +<p>It was with a trembling hand that she knocked at the door, which was +after a pause opened by old Giles.</p> + +<p>"I am come," she faltered, "to see Mrs. Travers."</p> + +<p>Giles shook his head.</p> + +<p>"My lady can see no one," he said; "she is in sore trouble."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, please, how the gentleman is who was—who was wounded in a +duel."</p> + +<p>"As bad as he can be," was the short reply; "he won't live till +morning."</p> + +<p>"I want to see Mrs. Travers, if only for a moment—I want to see Mrs. +Travers. I am Miss Mainwaring," she urged.</p> + +<p>Giles had not known up to this moment whom he was addressing, for +Griselda had only been in that house once, and she had drawn her hood +over her face.</p> + +<p>When he heard the name, Giles made an exclamation of horror, and said:</p> + +<p>"My lady won't see <i>you</i>! You are the last one she'd wish to look upon. +It was an evil day for my young master that <i>he</i> ever looked on your +face!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! you are very cruel—very hard-hearted!" Griselda said; and with a +sob turned away.</p> + +<p>As she was leaving the door, a young voice she knew greeted her.</p> + +<p>It was Brian Bellis'.</p> + +<p>"Madam," he said, "I have come to tell you that Norah—poor little +Norah—is safe at my aunt's house in John Street. I took her there after +the funeral, and she is made welcome; it would melt a heart of stone to +see her. Will you come and comfort her?"</p> + +<p>"Comfort her! I am in need of comfort myself. Yes, I will come. No one +wants me—no one cares!"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> care, madam," Brian said. "Is the gentleman dead? It is said in the +town that he is dead of his wound."</p> + +<p>"No, no, he is alive, but dying," said Griselda. "Take me to poor +little Norah—my poor little sister! And then will you go for me to +North Parade—see, Graves, the good waiting-woman—and ask her to bring +me my possessions, for I shall never return thither; I am homeless and +helpless."</p> + +<p>"No, madam—no," the boy said; "my aunts will receive you—I feel sure +they will."</p> + +<p>Then they walked on silently towards John Street, and there the Miss +Hoblyns were awaiting her arrival. They had not reached the pinnacle of +their fame at this time, for it was not till the Duchess of York, in +1795, visited their establishment that they became the rage. But they +were kind-hearted women, of a superior type to the ordinary class of +mantua-maker and milliner of those times. Gentlewomen by nature, if not +by birth.</p> + +<p>Brian, the son of their dead sister, was their idol, and they found it +hard to refuse any request he made. When the poor desolate child had +been led to their home from her father's grave, their hearts had gone +out to her, and they gave Brian leave to fetch the sister of whom he +spoke.</p> + +<p>Great, indeed, was these good women's surprise, when, as Griselda +dropped her hood and cloak, they recognised the beautiful young lady, on +whom they had waited at Lady Betty Longueville's, and who had done such +credit to their skill in altering the white paduasoy which Lady Betty +had discarded, and which Griselda wore when she had been the admired +belle of the great ball in Wiltshire's Rooms. How was it possible she +could be the sister of the orphan child, and the daughter of an actor, +who had died sunk in the depths of misery and poverty?</p> + +<p>But they asked no questions, and, taking poor Griselda's hand, led her +to the room where, on a couch drawn near the fire, the child lay, +asleep.</p> + +<p>Worn out with watching and sorrow, this sufferer for the sins of another +had fallen into a profound slumber, and Griselda, as she looked on the +pale face, about which a tangle of golden curls lay in wild confusion, +stooped and kissed her sister.</p> + +<p>The child stirred—as she did so, opened her eyes for a moment, smiled, +and said:</p> + +<p>"My beautiful lady! I am <i>glad</i> you are come."</p> + +<p>Then Griselda lifted her in her arms, and pressing her close, shed the +first tears which she had shed since the night before, when she had +first heard of Leslie Travers's peril, incurred for her sake.</p> + +<p>Norah was soon asleep again, and the kind women threw a covering over +both sisters, and left them together with the tact and sympathy which is +the outcome of a noble nature, whether it is found in a milliner or a +marchioness.</p> + +<p>It certainly was not found in Lady Betty Longueville.</p> + +<p>When Graves went to her with the tidings that Brian Bellis brought, she +flew into one of her "hysterical tantrums," as Graves and David called +them.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Graves," Lady Betty screamed, "pack up the minx's things; I am +well quit of her. Let 'em all go," she said; "but take nothing of +mine—I would not give her a groat—spoiling my Bath season like +this—treating my friend, Sir Maxwell, with contempt—forcing him to +send that insolent puppy a challenge. Disgracing me—disgracing her poor +departed uncle—lowering me in the eyes of society—she, the child of a +common actor, with whom her wretched mother ran away. Oh! I never wish +to set eyes on her again!"</p> + +<p>Graves coughed significantly.</p> + +<p>"She was left to your ladyship for maintenance," she said.</p> + +<p>"How dare you speak like that to me? Leave the room instantly. And, +mind, I disown the baggage—the ungrateful hussy—when she might have +been my Lady Danby—and—and—of use to me, repaying me for all my +kindness these many years—for, let me tell you, Graves, Danby Place is +a fine mansion, and she might have been mistress of it—the idiot—the +fool! I wash my hands of her—she may go where she lists—but let me +never see her face again!"</p> + +<p>Graves listened to this tirade with her accustomed composure, and went +to Griselda's room to do her lady's bidding.</p> + +<p>She gathered together a few things which Griselda might immediately +need, and gave them, with the violin, to Brian. The old leather case she +would not trust out of her sight, and, hastily putting on her cloak and +huge <i>calêche</i>, she said she would follow the boy to John Street.</p> + +<p>As they left the house, Zach was peeping out from behind the door, and +Brian shook his fist at him.</p> + +<p>"I would like to thrash you—you wicked little spy—you!"</p> + +<p>But Zach had the gold-pieces in his pocket, and only made a grimace in +return to Brian's threatening gesture.</p> + +<p>Graves' heart was touched, perhaps, as it had never been touched before, +when she saw Griselda lying on the couch, with Norah asleep in her arms.</p> + +<p>Griselda was not asleep, and looking up to Graves, said, in a piteous +voice:</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear Graves, I am alone now!—there is no one belonging to me but +this child—we must hold together. Kiss her, Graves—gently, she may +wake. Poor, poor little Norah! I have forgotten her in this day's +misery. Speak to the kind people here, and ask them to let me stay with +them—I can pay them. I can work for them—I was always clever with my +needle."</p> + +<p>"Here is your box of jewels, my poor dear, I brought them myself; the +boy has brought your clothes and a gown for to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"You forget, you forget, Graves—I must have a black gown for my father, +and—for <i>him</i>—my only love. Oh! Graves—do hearts break? I feel as if +mine must break—and that I must die."</p> + +<p>Graves struggled in vain with her tears: they chased each other down her +furrowed cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Trust in the Lord, my dear. There may be a bow in the dark cloud—who +can tell?"</p> + +<p>Then Graves went to the Miss Hoblyns, who had considerately left +Griselda and the child alone together, and she arranged a bedroom at the +back of the house, and placed her young mistress's possessions in some +order.</p> + +<p>"The young lady will be able to pay for her lodgings and board, madam," +Graves said, "and for the child's also. She has already sold some +jewels, and——"</p> + +<p>But Miss Hoblyn waved her hand, as if to say she wanted nothing else +said just then, and Graves proceeded to light a fire, and make the room +allotted to Griselda's use as comfortable as circumstances allowed; and +then, wringing Miss Hoblyn's delicate hand in her large work-worn +fingers, she hastened back to North Parade.</p> + +<p>There was no immediate need for Griselda to put on a mourning garment. +Distress of mind, and the long, long walk in the cold chill air of +January to Claverton Down, had the effect of throwing her into an +illness—a fever—which attacked her brain, and rendered her unconscious +of all troubles, past and present, for some time.</p> + +<p>It was touching to see how the child, so prematurely old, and so well +accustomed to privation and nursing of the sick, took up her place by +her sister's bed, and proved the most efficient of little nurses—as +nursing was understood in those days.</p> + +<p>Griselda was certainly an instance of a patient suffering more from the +remedy than the disease. The doctor—Mr. Cheyne—who was called in, let +blood several times from her arm, cut off her beautiful hair, and +blistered the back of her head, and brought her to the very verge of the +grave. She took no heed of any one who came and went, or she would have +seen Caroline Herschel by her bed every day, and would have known that +many little delicacies were brought by her hand. She was immersed in +ever-increasing musical engagements, for, besides the preparation for +the oratorio to be performed during Lent, she actually copied with her +own hand the scores of the "Messiah" and "Judas Maccabæus" in parts for +an orchestra of nearly one hundred performers; and in the vocal parts of +Samson, Caroline Herschel instructed the treble singers, of whom she was +now amongst the first.</p> + +<p>Very few women of these days have gone through the amount of hard +continuous labour which Caroline Herschel did; and when we are tempted +to think highly of the increasing number of women, qualified by culture +and natural gifts to fight the battle of life for themselves, we must +not forget that the end of the eighteenth century produced a goodly list +of able and distinguished women.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Caroline Herschel has hardly received the prominent place she +deserves in that list, and yet it would be hard to trace a life more +useful and more loyally devoted to serve in the cause of science—a +service which in her case, and that of her distinguished brother, was +encompassed with difficulties, that would have daunted the courage of +less steadfast souls.</p> + +<p>While Leslie Travers lay on the borderland between life and death, all +unconscious that the woman he loved so well was also treading the path +through that dim mysterious valley of the shadow, the favourite scheme +on which William Herschel set so many hopes failed!</p> + +<p>The house in King Street had been taken with the view of building a +furnace on the lower floor, which was on a level with the garden.</p> + +<p>Here the musician, in the full tide of professional duties, would, +between the lessons he was giving to the ladies of Bath, run in to see +how the workmen were progressing. Here Sir William Watson, Colonel +Walsh, and other philosophical friends would meet, and Sir William +Watson was only disappointed that the noble-hearted musician and +astronomer would not hear of any pecuniary assistance.</p> + +<p>At last the day came when all was in readiness. The metal was in the +furnace, and the mould prepared, when a leakage caused the red-hot metal +to pour out on the floor, tearing up the stones, and scattering them in +every direction, William and Alexander Herschel and the workmen having +to rush away for their lives.</p> + +<p>William Herschel fell exhausted on a heap of brickbats, and for the time +the dearest scheme of his heart, in the construction of the large +telescope, had to be abandoned.</p> + +<p>"Success next time, and greater care to secure it," was all he said; and +he hastened to have the rubbish cleared away, recompense the workmen for +their lost labour, and that very night "sweep the heavens" with his old +instrument, and enter into the most animated conversation on the nebulæ +with his chief and constant friend, Sir William Watson.</p> + +<p>Everyone must have noticed how quickly events, whether sorrowful or +joyful, are forgotten.</p> + +<p>The wonder-wave which rolls over a city or town, at the report of any +great mercantile failure, or the discovery of dishonest dealing in a man +who has held a responsible position, soon ebbs!</p> + +<p>This is even more true of private griefs affecting families and +individuals. Griefs which leave a lifelong scar on the few, or on <i>one</i> +sufferer, are speedily forgotten by the outside world.</p> + +<p>This ebb and flow, a poet has well said, is the law to which we must all +bow. None can escape from it.</p> + +<p>Pity, however sincere, is soon exhausted, and fresh cares of bereavement +and loss, or sorrow, start up to excite a passing sympathy, while others +are crowded out and forgotten.</p> + +<p>The duel between Sir Maxwell Danby and Leslie Travers was a nine days' +wonder. It was the favourite topic in the Pump Room for that time, but +scarcely longer. At first it was reported that Leslie Travers was dead; +then, indeed, there were conjectures about Sir Maxwell's escape, and +wonderment as to whether he would be pursued and captured, as Count Rice +had been, and tried for murder.</p> + +<p>But when it was found that Leslie Travers was likely to live, the +interest in the matter visibly declined.</p> + +<p>Lady Betty reappeared in the Pump Room and at the balls, and to all +inquiries said Miss Mainwaring had left her, that she was no relation to +her, and that she had very properly considered it better to return to +the station in life whence dear Mr. Longueville, in the nobleness of his +heart, had rescued her!</p> + +<p>Lent came, and was followed by a bright Easter. The Bath season was +over, and the principal event of that season was almost forgotten.</p> + +<p>The <i>élite</i> left the City of the West, or if they remained, there were +no public assemblies at which they might display their jewels and varied +costumes.</p> + +<p>It is needless to say that Lady Betty took her departure, as it was +considered "the mode" to do so; and report said young Lord Basingstoke +had made it evident that he had no serious intentions, by leaving Bath +some time before the vivacious little widow deserted No. 6, North +Parade.</p> + +<p>Perhaps few noticed, or made more than a passing remark of wonder, when +a paragraph in the <i>Bath Gazette</i> announced the marriage of Leslie +Travers, of the Grange, county Lincoln, to Griselda, daughter of +Adolphus Mainwaring, and Phyllis, his wife.</p> + +<p>The bride had walked to the Abbey church one fair May morning in her +ordinary dress, accompanied by her faithful friend Miss Herschel, and +the Miss Hoblyns, and Norah. There were present with the bridegroom his +mother and Brian Bellis. Thus so small a wedding-party was not likely to +attract attention.</p> + +<p>A great change had passed over both bride and bridegroom since that +January day when they had sealed their betrothal in the old Abbey +church.</p> + +<p>The brilliant beauty of Griselda had faded, and there were traces of +long illness on her sweet face. Leslie Travers's lithe figure was bent, +and he walked slowly and with none of the elasticity of youth. He had +been given back to his mother's prayers, contrary to the hopes or +expectations of the surgeons, who had watched over him with unremitting +care; but the duel had left an indelible mark on him.</p> + +<p>The chariot to take the bride and bridegroom was waiting at the door, +and here the "Good-byes" were said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers felt Griselda's clinging arms round her as she whispered:</p> + +<p>"I will try to be a good daughter to you, madam. I pray you love me a +little, for his sake!"</p> + +<p>"I love you for your own, my child," was the reply; "and I will cherish +and comfort this little one till we meet again"—for poor Norah was +convulsed with weeping, and only the promise of a home at the Grange +with her sister could console her.</p> + +<p>And so the curtain falls, and the bridegroom and the bride pass out of +our sight; but we must take one farewell look at them when years have +gone by, and see how the promise of their early love had been fulfilled.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>TEN YEARS LATER—1790.</h3> + + +<p>There is no country, however flat and uninteresting, which does not +respond to the glory of a real English summer's day.</p> + +<p>The moated Grange, near Louth, was no exception to the rule. The moat +itself had been drained, and was now covered with turf, and studded with +countless daisies, with their golden eyes looking up into the blue, +clear sky.</p> + +<p>Even the old-fashioned, low-roofed house, with its many gables and the +heron carved in stone over the porch, was laughing in the sunshine; and +on the well-kept lawn was a group, on which the eye of an artist might +have loved to linger.</p> + +<p>A sweet and gracious mother was seated on a low garden bench with a baby +on her knee, while on either side stood two children—twin boys—who +were the joy and pride of her heart.</p> + +<p>The little sister of ten months old had come to put the last jewel in +the crown of Griselda Travers's happy wifehood and motherhood.</p> + +<p>The place where she sat was under the shadow of a row of tall whispering +poplars, which made the pleasant "sound as of falling showers," as the +summer breeze stirred the leaves. At the back of the house was a +plantation of fir-trees, where the turtle-doves were cooing, and the +murmur as of "far seas" in the dark topmost branches made a low +undertone of melody.</p> + +<p>In the old-fashioned garden, or pleasaunce to the right of the house, +bees were humming at their work, and gay butterflies dancing over the +lavender-bushes and large trees of York and Lancaster roses, which made +the air sweet with their fragrance.</p> + +<p>A wide gravel-path divided the pleasaunce, and there a pair of happy +lovers were pacing, forgetful of everything but their own happiness.</p> + +<p>Presently one of Griselda's boys left her side, and ran across the grass +to a little gate which led from a copse, and bounded the lawn on that +side.</p> + +<p>"Father!" the boy exclaimed; and his brother followed him, echoing the +joyful cry.</p> + +<p>Griselda also rose, and went across the lawn with the same graceful +movement which had distinguished her in the Bath assemblies of old.</p> + +<p>"I hope the gig came to meet the coach, dear husband?" she said. "It +must have been a hot walk from Louth."</p> + +<p>He put his arm round her, and kissed the mother first, and then the +little daughter, of whom he was so proud, saying:</p> + +<p>"Yes; I left the gig at the corner; and walked across the field. How +delightful the country seems after London! and as to the boys, they seem +in rude health. Have you taken care of your mother, William and Alex?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and we have said our Latin verbs every day, and done our parsing +and spelling out of the grammars and dictionaries," said Will.</p> + +<p>"I hate spelling," said Alex; "but I love sums."</p> + +<p>"That's good. Your godfather was asking how you got on with that branch +of your education. Your godfather is a great man, boys; you may be proud +to feel he is your godfather."</p> + +<p>"Was it very charming at Slough, Leslie?"</p> + +<p>"It was, indeed; and wonderful! 'The sweeping of the sky' is a nightly +business; and the wife is as much devoted to it as the sister. You must +take the journey to London ere long, my dearest, and see for yourself. +The twenty-foot Newtonian telescope is a marvel; and there sits +Caroline, as of old, writing down calculations and observations. I went +to bed at one o'clock; but even on that night William Herschel had +discovered four or five new nebulæ."</p> + +<p>"And he is now quite a great man?"</p> + +<p>"Great in everyone's eyes but his own. Royal favour has not turned his +head, nor Caroline's either. She has sent your boys a case of little +mathematical instruments, and she says you are to go to Slough next +visit I pay."</p> + +<p>"And little Phyllis, too, father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, when she is old enough. So you have two happy people still here, I +see?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Brian got an extra week's holiday from the law office at Bristol; +and I knew you would not mind. Mother is so pleased to have him here."</p> + +<p>At this moment Brian Bellis and Norah awoke to the fact that they were +not the only people in that flowery garden; and Nora, now a beautiful +girl of nineteen, leaving Brian's arm, came springing to her +brother-in-law, with a face flushed with welcome, to receive her +accustomed kiss.</p> + +<p>Then from the low French window at the side of the house Mrs. Travers +appeared, and greeted her son with a tender welcome.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Travers took the baby from her mother's arms, saying:</p> + +<p>"She is too heavy for you, my dear; she grows such a great girl. Is not +Phyllis glad to see father safely back again?"</p> + +<p>The baby cooed as a sign of contentment, but whether this was the result +of the contemplation of her silver rattle, or of her father's return, +may not be told.</p> + +<p>Then the happy party turned into the house, and Leslie drew from the +wide pocket of his blue coat with brass buttons a sheaf of letters.</p> + +<p>He singled one from the rest, and said gravely:</p> + +<p>"I got the letters at Louth. This tells sad news. It has been written +for Amelia Graves."</p> + +<p>"Dear Graves!" Griselda exclaimed; "what does she say?" She took the +letter, written in a round clerkly hand from her husband, and read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear and Honoured Sir:</span></p> + +<p>"This leaves me well; but I have to inform you my poor mistress +departed this life yesterday. I prayed by her, and asked the +Lord to pardon her. Honoured sir—and you, dear Madam +Travers—that bad man, Sir Maxwell Danby, behaved so ill, that +she had to leave his home. He is gone to foreign parts again, +and let us hope never to return. He treated my poor mistress +shameful, and she was made miserable. We went to Bath for last +season, but she was too ill to enter into gaieties, and sank +into a sad state—mind and body.</p> + +<p>"I send my duty to you, honoured sir, and the dear lady, your +wife, and remain,</p> + +<p>"Your humble servant,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Amelia Graves.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Griselda's sweet face became very grave as she read this letter. Then +she folded it and returned it to her husband.</p> + +<p>"I should like Graves to come and live with us, and take care of her in +her old age. Might I ask her?"</p> + +<p>Then Leslie bent over his wife, and kissing her, said:</p> + +<p>"I knew that would be your wish. I will write by next post to Bath, and +bid her come hither. She was good to you when you were in trouble, and +won my lasting gratitude."</p> + +<p>"Poor Lady Betty! Oh that she ever was so blind—so foolish—as to marry +that dreadful man! I never see his name without a shudder!"</p> + +<p>The news this letter contained had brought back to the happy wife and +mother many sad memories; but the past did not long cloud her present.</p> + +<p>As she put her hand into her husband's arm that evening when the +children were asleep, and no sound broke the silence as they paced the +garden walk, she stopped suddenly, and said:</p> + +<p>"Dearest, you have made my life so beautiful. You have taught me so +much. You said once—do you remember?—you would die for me, or live for +me! You have lived for me, and I——"</p> + +<p>"And you have kept your promise, sweetheart," he said. "Do you remember +that promise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "It has been so easy to keep it. All joy and pleasure +to give you what you asked for that day in the Abbey church."</p> + +<p>So, with interchange of loving words, the husband and wife saw the +shadows of the night steal over the woods and far-stretching level +country round their home.</p> + +<p>The lovers were also enjoying their twilight walk, and talking, as +lovers will, of the bliss of the future they are to spend together.</p> + +<p>A happy dream is that dream of young love; but is there anything in this +mutable life more beautiful than the deepening of that young love into +the serene and blessed sympathy of a husband and wife who, through the +changes and chances of ten years, can feel, as Leslie and Griselda felt, +more secure in each other's loyalty and truth as time rolls on; who can +feel that if all other earthly props and joys vanish, their love will +remain, that sorrow is shared and grief softened, that all good will be +intensified and all happiness doubled, because felt by <i>two</i>, who are +yet <i>one</i> in the highest sense?</p> + +<p>This is the true marriage, which has been taken as a type of the highest +and the holiest union. Why is it that it is so often missed? Why does +the reality of love so often flee away, and only a ghost-like shadow and +pale semblance remain?</p> + +<p>There is a solution of this problem, but it is not for me to give it +here. The hearts of many who read the story of Leslie and Griselda will, +if they are true and honest, answer the question each one for herself, +and it may be with tears and unavailing regret, yes! and of +self-reproach also, that this full cup of bliss has never reached their +lips, but that the honeyed sweetness of the elixir of youth has, long +ere old age is reached, been as an exceeding bitter cup given them to +drink!</p> + +<p>As the husband and wife of whom I write, went into their peaceful home, +they looked up at the sky where the stars were shining in all their +majesty, and their thoughts turned to their friends who were far away, +and probably making their accustomed preparation for sweeping the sky.</p> + +<p>Many and many a summer night has come and gone since then; many and many +eyes have been raised to the star-lit sky, and keen intellects and +abstruse calculations have brought to light much for which the great +astronomer, William Herschel, prepared the way. But I doubt if even +amongst them all has been found a more single-hearted and reverent +contemplation of the mysteries of that illimitable space which he thus +describes:</p> + +<p>"This method of viewing the heavens seems to throw them into a new kind +of light. They are now seen to resemble a luxuriant garden which +contains the greatest variety of productions in different flourishing +beds, and one advantage we may at least reap from it is, that we can, as +it were, extend the image of our experience to an immense duration. For +is it not almost the same thing whether we live successively to witness +the germination, blooming, foliage, fecundity, fading, withering and +corruption of a plant, or whether a vast number of specimens selected +from every stage through which the planet passes in the course of its +existence be brought at once to our view?"</p> + +<p>This is a finely-expressed and profound thought, and the mind which +originated it must indeed win our admiration and respect.</p> + +<p>Surely the house in King Street, Bath, and the association with it, may +well consecrate it as a shrine which all who appreciate true and honest +labour, and brave struggles with difficulties, should visit. The +discovery of the planet Uranus in that house was a grand achievement. +The light thrown on the mysteries of double stars, and of the perpetual +motion and marvellous evolutions of the milky way was scarcely a less +memorable step towards the better understanding of the star-depths +which mortals may well scan with bated breath, so infinite is the +infinite! But it almost seems to me that pilgrims to the house where the +great astronomer and musician lived and worked, may do well to think +most of the faithful performance of duty, the unflinching perseverance, +the courageous struggle with untold difficulties which was carried on by +William and Caroline Herschel while the Bath season was at its height, +and the butterflies of fashion and the votaries of pleasure danced and +chattered, and sang and made merry in the assemblies, where a hundred +years ago so many people whose names are now forgotten, flocked in the +pursuit of health and amusement! There will always be these contrasts +sharply defined. The bees and the butterflies go forth together over the +same flowery pastures. There are countless hidden workers, unknown to +fame, who yet do their part—if a humble part, in life—in the place +appointed them by God. But there are some who by force of an indomitable +will and the highest gifts of intellect and culture leave behind them a +name which to all time shall be honoured, and Bath may think herself +favoured that in the long list of distinguished men and women who have +frequented that fair city and Queen of the West, she may write in +letters of gold the names of William Herschel and his sister Caroline.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> DUELLING ON CLAVERTON DOWN. +</p></div> + +<blockquote><p>In the year 1778 many foreign nobles made Bath their residence. The +Viscount du Barré and two ladies of great beauty and accomplishments, +and Count Rice, an Irish gentleman who had borne arms in the service of +France, lived in the Royal Crescent. +</p><p> +A quarrel at cards between Du Barré and Rice resulted in an immediate +challenge—given and accepted. At one o'clock in the morning of November +18, 1778, a coach was procured from the Three Tuns in Stall Street, and +Claverton Down was reached at day-dawn. +</p><p> +"Each man," says a contemporary, "was armed with two pistols and a +sword, the ground being marked out by the seconds. Du Barré fired +first, and lodged a ball in Count Rice's thigh, which penetrated to the +bone. Count Rice fired, and wounded Du Barré in the breast. Afterwards +the pistols were thrown away, and the combatants took to their swords. +</p><p> +"The Viscount du Barré fell, and cried out, 'Je vous demande ma vie!' to +which Count Rice answered, 'Je vous la donne!' and in a few moments Du +Barré fell back and expired. Count Rice was brought with difficulty to +Bath, being dangerously wounded; and was found guilty, at the Coroner's +inquest held on the Viscount's body, of manslaughter. +</p><p> +"Du Barré's body was left exposed on Claverton Down the whole day, and +was subsequently buried in Bathampton Churchyard. Count Rice recovered; +he was tried at Taunton for murder, and acquitted. He died in Spain in +1809. A stone slab in a wall skirting Claverton Down marks the spot +where Du Barré fell. The ivory hilt of the sword once belonging to Count +Rice is now attached to the City Seal in the town clerk's +office."—Condensed from R. E. Peach's "Rambles about Bath."</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WORKS_BY_MRS_MARSHALL" id="WORKS_BY_MRS_MARSHALL"></a>WORKS BY MRS. MARSHALL.</h2> + + +<p>ON THE BANKS OF THE OUSE; or, Life in Olney a Hundred Years Ago.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"No better story than this has been written by Mrs. +Marshall."—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>IN FOUR REIGNS: Recollections of Althea Allingham from George III. to +Victoria.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A most charming tale of bygone days. The tone of the book is +eminently high and refined."—<i>Literary World.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>UNDER THE MENDIPS: a Tale.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"One of Mrs. Marshall's charming stories, told with all the +wonted freshness and grace which characterize her +books."—<i>Westminster Review.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE TOWER ON THE CLIFF.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The old dead time lives once more in her pages."—<i>Saturday +Review.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE MISTRESS OF TAYNE COURT.</p> + +<p>IN THE EAST COUNTRY WITH SIR THOMAS BROWN, Kt.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A singularly delightful and interesting work."—<i>Spectator.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>MRS. WILLOUGHBY'S OCTAVE.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We have seldom read anything more pathetic."—<i>Spectator.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>IN COLSTON'S DAYS.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Extremely well written."—<i>Morning Post.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>CONSTANTIA CAREW: an Autobiography.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Much superior to ordinary religious fiction."—<i>Spectator.</i></p></blockquote> + + +<p>TWO SWORDS: a Tale of Old Bristol.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The lesson of the book is excellent, and the story is +gracefully told."—<i>Literary World.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>CHRISTABEL KINGSCOTE.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"As fascinating a tale, and as prettily told, as the reader can +wish for. We remember no book which we have more pleasure in +recommending."—<i>Athenæum.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>BRISTOL DIAMONDS; or, The Hotwells in the year 1773.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Mrs. Marshall's stories are always first-rate."—<i>Church +Bells.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>BENVENUTA; or, Rainbow Colours.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A pleasant story of family life."—<i>Athenæum.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>DOROTHY'S DAUGHTERS: a Tale.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"This interesting and well-written volume."—<i>Record.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>DAME ALICIA CHAMBERLAYNE: of Ravenshome, Gloucestershire.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Most pleasant reading."—<i>Academy.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE ROCHEMONTS: a Story of Three Homes.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A pleasant and wholesome story."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>HELEN'S DIARY; or, Thirty Years Ago.</p> + +<p>MILLICENT LEGH: a Tale.</p> + +<p>BROOK SILVERTONE, and THE LOST LILIES: Two Stories for Children.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We can heartily recommend this attractive little volume. The +stories are genuine, life-like, and entertaining. The lessons +are skilfully interwoven with the narrative."—<i>Record.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>VIOLET DOUGLAS; or, The Problems of Life.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A pleasant, healthy story of English life, full of sound +religious teaching."—<i>Standard.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE OLD GATEWAY; or, The Story of Agatha.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It is pleasant and gracefully written, and Roland Bruce is a +character of no ordinary beauty."—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>EDWARD'S WIFE; or, Hard Judgments. A Tale.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"This is a very charming" story, fresh, natural, and +touching."—<i>Christian Advocate.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>JOB SINGLETON'S HEIR, and other Stories.</p> + +<p>LADY ALICE; or, Two Sides of a Picture.</p> + +<p>JOANNA'S INHERITANCE: a Story of Young Lives.</p> + +<p>LIFE'S AFTERMATH: a Story of a Quiet People.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The story is admirably told, and the interest well sustained +throughout. The descriptions of English scenery are in many +instances beautiful."—<i>Christian Observer.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A HISTORY OF FRANCE: Adapted from the French, for the use of English +Children.</p> + +<p>NOW-A-DAYS; or, King's Daughters. A Tale.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We have seldom met with a more pleasing specimen of what a +wholesome work of light literature should be."—<i>Record.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A LILY AMONG THORNS.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"This volume is clever, and very naturally written. It is a +book to read and to recommend."—<i>Watchman.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>MRS. MAINWARING'S JOURNAL.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Rarely have we come across a more touching volume. It appeals +to everyone who has the least feeling."—<i>John Bull.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>HEIGHTS AND VALLEYS: a Tale.</p> + +<p>BROTHERS AND SISTERS; or, True of Heart.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The hopes and fears of a large family in a cathedral city are +drawn with much spirit. The dialogue is easy, and the tale +above the average."—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TALES_BY_MISS_WINCHESTER" id="TALES_BY_MISS_WINCHESTER"></a>TALES BY MISS WINCHESTER.</h2> + + +<p>PEARL OF THE SEA.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'A charming conception.'—<i>Saturday Review.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A CRIPPLED ROBIN.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'A pretty story, and there is fun as well as feeling in many of +the chapters.'—<i>Times.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A CITY VIOLET.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'Miss Winchester, whose power of delineating character is +giving her an honourable place among the writers of serious +fiction, has never done anything better than this.'—<i>Spectator.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A NEST OF SPARROWS.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'Miss Winchester not only writes with skill, but writes from +the heart, and with full knowledge of her subject. Her story is +most genuine, pathetic, without being sad.'—<i>Pall Mall +Gazette.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>UNDER THE SHIELD. A Tale.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'We wish all religious stories were written in the same simple +and natural way. We can conceive no more healthy reading for +children.'—<i>Academy.</i></p> + +<p>'We welcome with real pleasure another book by the author of "A +Nest of Sparrows." "Under the Shield" is to be noted for its +purity of tone and high aspirations.... There is true fun in +the book, too.'—<i>Athenæum.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE CABIN ON THE BEACH. A Tale.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'This tender story cannot fail to charm and delight the +young.'—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE WAYSIDE SNOWDROP. A Tale.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'A bright flower indeed. With all her tenderness and grace Miss +Winchester narrates one of those pathetic stories of a poor +London waif that at once arouse the loving sympathy of +children.'—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>CHIRPS FOR THE CHICKS.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'The book is worthy to be a nursery favourite.'—<i>Guardian.</i></p> + +<p>'The merriest, most amusing, and infinitely the most rhythmical +book of poetry for young people produced this season.... Others +besides children may read the "Chirps" with pleasure and +amusement. The illustrations are very happy.'—<i>Standard.</i></p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="RECENTLY_PUBLISHED" id="RECENTLY_PUBLISHED"></a>RECENTLY PUBLISHED.</h2> + + +<p>FOREST OUTLAWS; or, St. Hugh and the King. By the Rev. <span class="smcap">E. Gilliat</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Distinctly one of the very best books of the +season."—<i>Standard.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>BELT AND SPUR: Stories of the Knights of Old.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A very high-class gift-book of the spirit-stirring +kind."—<i>Spectator.</i></p> + +<p>"A sort of boy Froissart with admirable illustrations."—<i>Pall +Mall Gazette.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE CITY IN THE SEA: Stories of the Old Venetians.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Very stirring are the tales of the long struggle between Genoa +and Venice ... boys will read with keen interest the desperate +battles between the rival fleets of galleys."—<i>Standard.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>STORIES OF THE ITALIAN ARTISTS: from Vasari.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The book is full of delightful reading, carefully chosen from +a rich treasury of curiosities."—<i>Spectator.</i></p> + +<p>"Another very charming volume."—<i>Saturday Review.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>BORDER LANCES: a Romance of the Northern Marches. By the Author of "Belt +and Spur."</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The book is a good one ... the illustrations are +excellent."—<i>Spectator.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>FATHER ALDUR: the Story of a River. By <span class="smcap">A. Giberne</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The nature of tides, the formation of clouds, the sources of +water, and other kindred subjects are discussed with much +freshness and charm."—<i>Saturday Review.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>SUN, MOON, AND STARS: a Book on Astronomy for Beginners. By <span class="smcap">A. Giberne</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Ought to have a place in village libraries and mechanics' +institutions; would also be welcome as a prize-book."—<i>Pall +Mall Gazette.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>AMONG THE STARS; or, Wonderful Things in the Sky. By <span class="smcap">A. Giberne</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We may safely predict that if it does not find the reader with +a taste for astronomy, it will leave him with +one."—<i>Knowledge.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE WORLD'S FOUNDATIONS: Geology for Beginners. By <span class="smcap">A. Giberne</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The exposition is clear, the style simple and +attractive."—<i>Spectator.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>SUE; or, <span class="smcap">Wounded in Sport</span>. By <span class="smcap">E. Vincent Briton</span>, Author of 'Amyot +Brough.'</p> + +<blockquote><p>'We do not know when we have been so charmed as we are by this +modest volume.... Over and over again one is reminded of some +of George Eliot's best scenes in English country life; and +though it may seem exaggeration to say so, there are some +points in which Mr. Briton has surpassed George +Eliot.'—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>AMYOT BROUGH. By <span class="smcap">E. Vincent Briton</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'With national pride we dwell on a beautiful English historical +novel ... this sweet unpretending story, with its pretty +engravings.'—<i>Academy.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A CANTERBURY PILGRIMAGE. Ridden, Written, and Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Joseph</span> and +<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Pennell</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'The most wonderful shillingsworth that modern literature has +to offer.'—<i>Daily News.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>AN ITALIAN PILGRIMAGE. By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Pennell</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'This charming book.'—<i>Academy.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>EARLY FLEMISH ARTISTS, <span class="smcap">and their Predecessors on the Lower Rhine</span>. By <span class="smcap">W. +M. Conway.</span></p> + +<blockquote><p>'An altogether admirable book.'—<i>Graphic.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>THE ARTISTIC DEVELOPMENT OF REYNOLDS AND GAINSBOROUGH. By <span class="smcap">W. M. Conway</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'A contribution to the subject which no student can afford to +miss.' <i>Saturday Review.</i></p></blockquote> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Her Season in Bath, by Emma Marshall + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HER SEASON IN BATH *** + +***** This file should be named 33055-h.htm or 33055-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/5/33055/ + +Produced by Brian Foley, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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