Emma Marshall

“ 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.
"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?" ”

“ Why does the reality of love so often flee away, and only a ghost-like shadow and pale semblance remain?
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! ”

“ 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:
"Who is she? Low-born I hear, and a mere poor dependent on the bounty of Lady Betty."
"Heaven help her!" had been the reply, "if that is all her dependence."
Then with a laugh, as he tapped his little silver snuff-box, Sir Maxwell Danby had said:
"She will easily find another maintenance. A beauty—true; but a beauty of no family can't afford to be particular." ”

“ May I, sir, introduce myself as Dr. Watson, and may I follow up this acquaintance by a call to-morrow?"
"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?"
"There will be more attractive music than mine, brother," Miss Herschel said.
"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!" ”

“ 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."
"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."
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:
"Upon my honour, she acts youth to perfection; but she is forty-five if she is a day. ”

“ 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!"
"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. ”

“ 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! ”

“ Oh, be glad for me, Graves, be glad! I am to be the wife of a good man—Mr. Leslie Travers."
"Good! Well, there is none good—no, not one! He may be better in the eye of man than the rest, but good!—he may be a moral man."
"He is everything that is noble and good! Oh, Graves, I am so happy!"
"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. ”

“ The lovers were also enjoying their twilight walk, and talking, as lovers will, of the bliss of the future they are to spend together.
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 ”

“ Brian said. "Is the gentleman dead? It is said in the town that he is dead of his wound."
"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." ”

“ 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.
"Sir Maxwell won't stand to be flouted by you, miss—a man of ton like him; and you—well, I do not tell tales, or I might ruin your chance of matrimony."
Griselda's eyes flashed angrily; and then, recovering herself, she said:
"At what hour shall we order the chairs?"
"The chairs?—who said I wanted a chair? I am too worn out—too tired. I vow I can scarcely endure myself. ”

“ 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." ”

“ If a bad man got hold of you, what then? I have my fears. It's out of love I speak."
Griselda was touched at once.
"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. ”

“ 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."
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. ”

“ 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:
"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!" ”

“ 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.
"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. ”

“ 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!"
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. ”

“ 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."
"Let him dare to do so!" Leslie said. "I will challenge him, if he dares to take your name on his lips!"
"Oh no, no!" Griselda said; "no! Promise you will not quarrel with him? He is a man who would be a dangerous foe."
"He is my foe already," Leslie said. "As to danger, sweet one, I do not recognise danger where honour is concerned. ”

“ And now Graves came from the back of the house, and exclaimed, as Griselda was trying to admit the boy:
"Go back into the dining-parlour, Miss Griselda. Go; I'll speak to the boy."
But Brian Bellis had pushed the door open, and now stood under the dull glow of the lamp hanging over the entrance.
"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." ”

“ 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."
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:
"I am sure I don't care for these flowers; you may take them down to her ladyship, if you please." ”

“ 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.
"We must get back, Miss Griselda. Her ladyship will be returned. We must go at once." ”

“ William Herschel turned upon the dandy, with his lace ruffles and his elegant coat, a look that none might envy, as he said:
"Sir Maxwell, when you have studied the wonders of the heavens, you will scarce turn them into a childish jest."
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. ”

“ 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——"
"Nonsense, Graves! Never tell me music is wrong. Why, you sing hymns at Lady Huntingdon's Chapel—that is music!" ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.
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. ”

“ 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.
"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!" ”

“ I don't call the Bath climate so wonderful—frost one day, thaw and rain the next!"
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.
"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. ”