d her
really ill this time. She was to keep in bed, and if not better on the
following day, he must let blood from her arm.

"Do you know the doctor, Miss Griselda--this young Doctor Cheyne?"

"I may have spoken to him. Yes, I have seen him; but what is he to me?"

"He asked for you, that's all," said Graves; "how you did, and
whether----"

Graves stopped. It was a habit of hers to break off suddenly in her
speech, and Griselda scarcely noticed it.

"_Is_ the boy, Brian Bellis, come back?"

"No, Miss Griselda; he won't be here again to-night. I hear he is nephew
to the Miss Hoblyns, the mantua-makers, and that they look sharp after
him; they would not let him run about the streets at midnight."

"Midnight! It's not midnight! Oh, Graves, I am so tired!"

"Go to bed, and sleep till morning; that is my advice to you, and read a
verse in God's Word to go to sleep on. You'll never know rest till you
find it in the Lord, my dear. Let me help you to undress."

"No, I am not going to bed. Promise, Graves, if Brian Bellis comes to
the door with a letter you will bring it here. Promise----"

Graves nodded her head in token of assent, and departed.

There are few troubles, and few anxieties, which do not find a temporary
balm in the sleep of youth.

And Griselda, worn out at last, threw herself on her bed, and fell,
against her will, into a deep and dreamless slumber.

The Abbey clock had struck eleven when Graves, softly opening the door,
found the fire low, and the candles burned out; while on the bed lay
Griselda, dressed, but with the coverlet drawn over her under the canopy
of the old-fashioned tent-bed, which was the bed then commonly in use
for rooms which were not spacious enough to receive a stately
four-poster.

Graves had a small tin candlestick in one hand, and a letter. She
carefully shielded the light, and, looking down at the sleeping girl,
murmured:

"I cannot wake her. I will leave the letter on the bed; she will see it
in the morning the first thing--better she should not see it till then.
I promised to bring it, but I did not promise to rouse her if she was
asleep. Poor child! Poor dear! May the Lord pity her and draw her to
Himself!"

Graves moved gently about the room, and put the tinder-box near the
candlestick, and then softly closed the door, and went downstairs to sit
by the side of the fractious invalid, who declared she could not be left
for a moment, and who kept her patient handmaid