"It is not that—not that," Griselda said.
"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!"
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.
"My son, Mr. Relly," Mrs. Travers said; and then she looked with dismay at the figure by Leslie's side.
It was no time for explanation, and Leslie merely said:
"Miss Mainwaring will dine with us, mother."
"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?"
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:
"I fear I intrude, madam?"
But Mrs. Travers was anxious to avoid what she called the hollow courtesies of the world of fashion, and thus she only replied: