ld.

Brian Bellis had gone down to look for Zach and the torch, but no Zach
was to be found. He had made off to earn another gold-piece, and had
performed his errand well, as the event proved.

Poor Griselda had need of the support of Graves's strong arm as she
hurried her along to the North Parade. What if Lady Betty were before
her! What if it should come to her being really refused admittance to
the house! Graves trembled to think of it, and of what she would
personally be made to suffer if she were not at her post in her
mistress's bedroom at the appointed hour.

Griselda had really no thought about this. Her one longing was to get
back--back to her room, where she could pour forth her trouble, and
consider how she should tell him who had loved her so well, that she was
the daughter of the man by whose bedside they had stood together, all
unconscious that they were doing anything more than responding to the
entreaty of a child who was almost starving, and who was the only friend
the wretched man seemed to possess.

To Graves's intense relief, Mrs. Abbott opened the door, and, in reply
to the anxious question, said:

"No, her ladyship is not come home. Nobody has been here since Zach
returned to say you did not want him any more."

"I never said so!" Graves exclaimed. "We've groped home as best we
could, for the rain and mist put out the lights, and as to the lamps,
the glass is so thick with damp you can scarce see a spark in them."

While Graves was speaking, Griselda had gone wearily upstairs. Her cloak
was saturated with rain, and as she unfastened her _caleche_ the masses
of her hair fell back. At the top of the first flight she stopped.

"Graves! ask if a messenger has brought a letter for me."

"No," Mrs. Abbott said, answering--"no. Not a soul has been near the
house since you left it."

"No letter!--no letter!" Griselda murmured; and then, when she reached
her room, she threw aside her cloak and seated herself, with folded
hands, staring out into the embers of the fire with a look in her face
which made Graves say, as she hastened towards her:

"My dear! my poor child! don't look like that. It is over now--and a
mercy too. There will never be any need to tell--no one need know. It's
safe with me, and no one else need know. Come, let me help you to bed
before I am wanted elsewhere. Come!"

"I am not going to bed," Griselda said. "I must wait till he comes or
sends again."

"We'll, the gentlema