rish work, could think of nothing but her child. What
would be all her life to come, what would have been all that was
past of her life, if this thing should happen to her? She would not
believe it; but yet she trembled the more as she thought of her
daughter's exaltation, and remembered that such things had been done
in that world to which Griselda now belonged. Ah! would it not have
been better for them if they had not raised their heads so high! And
she walked out alone among the tombs of the neighbouring churchyard,
and stood over the grave in which had been laid the body of her other
daughter. Could be it that the fate of that one had been the happier.

Very few words were spoken on the subject between her and the
archdeacon, and yet it seemed agreed among them that something should
be done. He went up to London, and saw his daughter,--not daring,
however, to mention such a subject. Lord Dumbello was cross with him,
and very uncommunicative. Indeed both the archdeacon and Mrs Grantly
had found that their daughter's house was not comfortable to them,
and as they were sufficiently proud among their own class they had
not cared to press themselves on the hospitality of their son-in-law.
But he had been able to perceive that all was not right in the house
in Carlton Gardens. Lord Dumbello was not gracious with his wife, and
there was something in the silence, rather than in the speech, of
men, which seemed to justify the report which had reached him.

"He is there oftener than he should be," said the archdeacon. "And I
am sure of this, at least, that Dumbello does not like it."

"I will write to her," said Mrs Grantly at last. "I am still her
mother;--I will write to her. It may be that she does not know what
people say of her."

And Mrs Grantly did write.

PLUMSTEAD, April, 186--.

DEAREST GRISELDA,

It seems sometimes that you have been moved so far away
from me that I have hardly a right to concern myself more
in the affairs of your daily life, and I know that it is
impossible that you should refer to me for advice or
sympathy, as you would have done had you married some
gentleman of our own standing. But I am quite sure that my
child does not forget her mother, or fail to look back upon
her mother's love; and that she will allow me to speak to
her if she be in trouble, as I would to any other child
whom I had loved and cherished. I pray God that I may be
wrong in s