Her Season in Bath Part 29

Everyone must have noticed how quickly events, whether sorrowful or joyful, are forgotten.

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!

This is even more true of private griefs affecting families and individuals. Griefs which leave a lifelong scar on the few, or on _one_ sufferer, are speedily forgotten by the outside world.

This ebb and flow, a poet has well said, is the law to which we must all bow. None can escape from it.

Pity, however sincere, is soon exhausted, and fresh cares of bereavement and loss, or sorrow, start up to excite a pa.s.sing sympathy, while others are crowded out and forgotten.

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.

But when it was found that Leslie Travers was likely to live, the interest in the matter visibly declined.

Lady Betty reappeared in the Pump Room and at the b.a.l.l.s, 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 n.o.bleness of his heart, had rescued her!

Lent came, and was followed by a bright Easter. The Bath season was over, and the princ.i.p.al event of that season was almost forgotten.

The _elite_ left the City of the West, or if they remained, there were no public a.s.semblies at which they might display their jewels and varied costumes.

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.

Perhaps few noticed, or made more than a pa.s.sing remark of wonder, when a paragraph in the _Bath Gazette_ announced the marriage of Leslie Travers, of the Grange, county Lincoln, to Griselda, daughter of Adolphus Mainwaring, and Phyllis, his wife.

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.

A great change had pa.s.sed over both bride and bridegroom since that January day when they had sealed their betrothal in the old Abbey church.

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.

The chariot to take the bride and bridegroom was waiting at the door, and here the "Good-byes" were said.

Mrs. Travers felt Griselda's clinging arms round her as she whispered:

"I will try to be a good daughter to you, madam. I pray you love me a little, for his sake!"

"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.

And so the curtain falls, and the bridegroom and the bride pa.s.s 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.

CHAPTER XIX.

TEN YEARS LATER--1790.

There is no country, however flat and uninteresting, which does not respond to the glory of a real English summer's day.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

In the old-fashioned garden, or pleasaunce to the right of the house, bees were humming at their work, and gay b.u.t.terflies dancing over the lavender-bushes and large trees of York and Lancaster roses, which made the air sweet with their fragrance.

A wide gravel-path divided the pleasaunce, and there a pair of happy lovers were pacing, forgetful of everything but their own happiness.

Presently one of Griselda's boys left her side, and ran across the gra.s.s to a little gate which led from a copse, and bounded the lawn on that side.

"Father!" the boy exclaimed; and his brother followed him, echoing the joyful cry.

Griselda also rose, and went across the lawn with the same graceful movement which had distinguished her in the Bath a.s.semblies of old.

"I hope the gig came to meet the coach, dear husband?" she said. "It must have been a hot walk from Louth."

He put his arm round her, and kissed the mother first, and then the little daughter, of whom he was so proud, saying:

"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?"

"Yes; and we have said our Latin verbs every day, and done our parsing and spelling out of the grammars and dictionaries," said Will.

"I hate spelling," said Alex; "but I love sums."

"That's good. Your G.o.dfather was asking how you got on with that branch of your education. Your G.o.dfather is a great man, boys; you may be proud to feel he is your G.o.dfather."

"Was it very charming at Slough, Leslie?"

"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 nebulae."

"And he is now quite a great man?"

"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."

"And little Phyllis, too, father?"

"Yes, when she is old enough. So you have two happy people still here, I see?"

"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."

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.