ss. It is true that the circumstances of her life had
induced her to serve both God and Mammon, and that, therefore, she
had gloried greatly in the marriage of her daughter with the heir
of a marquis. She had revelled in the aristocratic elevation of her
child, though she continued to dispense books and catechisms with
her own hands to the children of the labourers of Plumstead Episcopi.
When Griselda first became Lady Dumbello the mother feared somewhat
lest her child should find herself unequal to the exigencies of her
new position. But the child had proved herself more than equal to
them, and had mounted up to a dizzy height of success, which brought
to the mother great glory and great fear also. She delighted to think
that her Griselda was great even among the daughters of marquises;
but she trembled as she reflected how deadly would be the fall from
such a height--should there ever be a fall!

But she had never dreamed of such a fall as this! She would have
said,--indeed, she often had said,--to the archdeacon that Griselda's
religious principles were too firmly fixed to be moved by outward
worldly matters; signifying, it may be, her conviction that that
teaching of Plumstead Episcopi had so fastened her daughter into a
groove, that all the future teaching of Hartlebury would not suffice
to undo the fastenings. When she had thus boasted, no such idea as
that of her daughter running from her husband's house had ever come
upon her; but she had alluded to vices of a nature kindred to that
vice,--to vices into which other aristocratic ladies sometimes fell,
who had been less firmly grooved; and her boastings had amounted to
this,--that she herself had so successfully served God and Mammon
together, that her child might go forth and enjoy all worldly things
without risk of damage to things heavenly. Then came upon her this
rumour. The archdeacon told her in a hoarse whisper that he had been
recommended to look to it, that it was current through the world that
Griselda was about to leave her husband.

"Nothing on earth shall make me believe it," said Mrs Grantly. But
she sat alone in her drawing-room afterwards and trembled. Then came
her sister, Mrs Arabin, the dean's wife, over to the parsonage, and
in half-hidden words told the same story. She had heard it from Mrs
Proudie, the bishop's wife. "That woman is as false as the father of
falsehoods," said Mrs Grantly. But she trembled the more; and as she
prepared her pa