Her Season in Bath Part 21

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.

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:

"Alas, poor dear! I fear the worst for her is _not_ over. May G.o.d help her! for man's help is vain. I can only pray for her. I dare not wake her--not yet--not yet!"

CHAPTER XIV.

BRAWLS.

Leslie Travers had received an answer from David when he called at North Parade that day, which had puzzled him not a little.

"Miss Mainwaring could not receive any visitor," David was commissioned to say.

"Was Miss Mainwaring ill?" Leslie asked.

"No, not that I know of, sir; but these are my orders."

Surely there was something behind David's calm exterior, and Leslie turned away dissatisfied.

"She will be at the a.s.sembly to-night," he thought. "I must possess my soul in patience till then."

So he dressed, and went to the a.s.sembly 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.

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.

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 Maccabaeus," and asking him to accompany him.

"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."

"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."

Mr. Beresford laughed.

"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, _your_ 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!"

Leslie could not help laughing at his friend's remarks on the various beaux and belles who pa.s.sed in review before them.

Presently the young man said:

"Look! did you see that?"

"What?" Leslie Travers asked.

"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."

"I decline to act spy. You may do so if you like," Leslie said.

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 _vis-a-vis_ with Sir Maxwell Danby and one of the most conspicuously dressed ladies who frequented Lady Miller's reunions at Batheaston.

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.

She talked in a loud voice, and Leslie's attention was soon diverted from his companion, as he caught a name dear to him.

"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? _You_ ought to know, Sir Maxwell."

Sir Maxwell stroked his chin, and said:

"Perhaps she is better engaged, from all I know. Miss Mainwaring's behaviour is a little eccentric."

"Is there a romance connected with her? I do love a bit of pretty romance. You know the _on dit_ is that she is to be Lady Danby?"

"My dear lady," Sir Maxwell said, "it is not safe to trust to _on dits_.

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!"

"I really hardly credit what you say; I vow I can't believe it. There's some mistake, Sir Maxwell."

"I wish I could agree with you," was the reply; "it is a matter which affects me very deeply. I do a.s.sure you----"

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:

"Miss Mainwaring, the lady in question, pays daily and nighty visits to these low purlieus. Charity is made the pretext, of course."

The dance was over, and the hour for departure drew on.

Leslie Travers watched his opportunity, and lay in wait for Sir Maxwell in one of the lobbies.

He was pa.s.sing him with a lady on his arm, when Leslie said:

"A word with you, sir, in private. I demand an apology for the shameful lies you are circulating. They are lies, and----"

"Softly, softly, my dear boy; let the presence of a lady be remembered."

"Oh! pray let us have no high words!" the lady said. "For mercy's sake, don't quarrel, gentlemen!"

"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."

"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."

"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!"