"What does it mean, my dear?" she asked.
"It means that I am no longer alone in the wide, cold world. 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. I heard your name again and again; and her ladyship and that man who is so often here—worse luck—were making free with it, I can tell you. There! that's her bell—ring-ring-ring! And here comes David."
David was the man-servant, and tapped sharply at the door.
"Mistress Graves, are you here? Is Miss Mainwaring here? She is wanted by her ladyship in the sitting-room—now," he added—"this instant. Do ye hear?"
"Yes, I am not deaf," was Graves' retort; "so you needn't make a noise like so many penny trumpets. You had better change your dress, my dear. Here is your blue skirt and flowered-chintz gown—and your hair is all falling down. Come!"
Griselda was putting away the money she had received for her jewels, and then submitted to Graves' hands, as she changed her morning-gown for a pretty toilette of chintz and under-skirt of blue brocade.
"I must be quick, or she will ring again," Graves said. "There! I thought so"—for again the querulous bell sounded, and hurrying feet were heard on the stairs.