Her Season in Bath Part 16

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.

"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!"

"Ridiculous! vastly amusing!" exclaimed Lady Betty.

"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."

Lady Betty smiled, and accepted the congratulation and the admiration at the same time.

"Sir Maxwell had just left her," she said.

"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_ am one."

"Yes. I say, where is Miss Mainwaring?" Lord Basingstoke asked.

And Lady Betty, flirting her fan vigorously, said:

"She has a headache, and will not be at the a.s.sembly to-night, I fear."

CHAPTER XI.

A LETTER.

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.

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.

But her face was by no means troubled and anxious; on the contrary, it was happy, almost radiant, in its expression.

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.

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

"Held a lily in her hand-- Gates of bra.s.s could not withstand One touch of that enchanted wand."

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.

It would not be fair to say that in the Bath a.s.semblies 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.

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 compa.s.s, and thus the evil and its results were more prominently brought forward.

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?

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 _was_ 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 a.s.suredly turn to hatred and determination to do what he could to destroy her happiness.

As Griselda sat that evening with the light of two tall candles in their ma.s.sive bra.s.s candlesticks, shining on her beautiful face, there was no shadow over it.

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 _alone_. 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."

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 subst.i.tuted "Leslie."

How strange and yet how sweet it was to look at it! And then she went on:

"I said you must wait till I called you by your name! You have not had to wait long."

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 a.s.sembly, and the chair was followed by another, and several dark figures shrouded in long cloaks were in attendance.

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 s.p.a.ce 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.

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.

"Your supper," she said shortly, "Miss Griselda."

Graves's voice and manner were so unusual that Griselda started up.

"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."

"She can't cast you off! You were left to her in the will for maintenance. I do know that much."

"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?"

"Yes, Miss Griselda, I went."

"And what did you think? Had I made too much of the misery, and want, and wretchedness of that poor man?"

"No, Miss Griselda--no, my dear!" said Graves.

"I must go again in a day or two, and you shall come with me."

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.

"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!"

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.

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 enc.u.mbrance, 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 a.s.semblies 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:

"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!"