Late into the night the strains of Leslie's violoncello rose and fell.
The largo of Haydn seemed to soothe him into calm, calling up before him
the beautiful face of Griselda Mainwaring, as with rapt, impassioned
gaze she had drank in the music of Caroline Herschel's voice, as she
sang, "Come unto Me ... and I will give you rest."

"I love her! I adore her! I will win her if I serve for her as Jacob
served for Rachel! My queen of beauty! Griselda! Griselda!"

CHAPTER VI.

GRAVE AND GAY.

"The quality" of Bath and of other towns and cities in England, a
hundred years ago, knew nothing--and, except in rare and isolated
instances, cared less--of those who were reduced to the lowest depths of
poverty, and whose struggle for daily bread was often in vain.

It was in a low, unhealthy quarter of Bath--that queen of the West--that
the child, who had begged for money at Mr. Herschel's door the evening
before, was seated in an attic-chamber, with a heap of finery before
her. Her little slender fingers were busy mending rents in gaudy gowns,
sewing beads on high collars, and curling feathers with a large bodkin.

Stretched on a bed in the corner of the room lay a man, whose pale face,
sunken eyes, and parched white lips, told of suffering and want. A sigh,
which was almost a groan, broke from the man, and the child got up and
left her work for a minute that she might wet a rag in vinegar and water
and lay it on her father's forehead.

"Is it your leg pains, father, or is your head worse?"

"Both, child; but my heart pains most. I am fallen very low, Norah, and
there is nothing but misery before us. Child! what will you do when I am
gone?"

Norah shook her head.

"We will not talk of that, father. You will get well, and then you will
act Hamlet again, and----"

"Never! The blow to my head has clean taken away my memory. 'To be or
not to be!'"--then followed a harsh laugh--"I could not get the next
line to save my life! But, Norah, it is your condition which eats like a
canker into my heart. You spoke of a kind gentleman and a beautiful lady
yesterday, who did not spurn you. Find them again, implore them to come
here, and I will move their very heart to pity by the tale of my
sorrows! They will, sure, put out a hand to you."

"The lady was beautiful as an angel, father; but I don't think grand
folks like her will care for us. But," she said, brightening, "I shall
get some money for this job Mrs. Betts gave m