"But what?"
"The gentleman has been here, and David was ordered to refuse him admittance. I must take your message; there's the bell ringing again."
Griselda stood where Graves left her, her hands clasped together, and exclaimed:
"What shall I do?—wait till he writes? He will surely write! Oh, that I had someone to consult! Shall I leave the house?—shall I go to Mrs. Travers? No; I would not force myself on her—or anyone. I must wait. Surely my poor little rhymes were prophetic! Waiting and watching——"
Again Graves appeared with a tray, on which was Griselda's dinner. A little three-cornered note lay on the napkin.
Griselda snatched it up, and read, in Lady Betty's thin, straggling, pointed handwriting:
"Do not atempt to shew your face, miss, till you have made a propar apollgey, and have declared your readynes to meet the gentleman who has done you the honour of adressing you.
"B. L."
Lady Betty's spelling was, to say the least of it, eccentric; and Griselda smiled as she crumpled up the note and tossed it into the fire.
"Very well, I am a prisoner then till my true knight comes to set me free. Make my compliments to her ladyship, and say, Graves, that I am obedient to her orders, and have no intention of showing my face."
"My dear," Graves said, "pray to the Lord to help you; you will need His help."