From time to time Griselda gave up meditation, and stationed herself at the window. The small panes, set in thick frames, were dim with moisture. The fields before her, which stretched to the hills, were reeking with damp. The hills themselves, and the houses and terraces which the day before had laughed in the sunshine, were now hidden, or only seen gray and black through the driving rain.
No grand chariots, with red-coated post-boys, swept round the corner from South Parade, drawing up with a flourish at a door near. Very few people were out in the dim wet streets, and only a few disconsolate patients were conveyed at intervals by drenched and surly chair-men to and from the Pump Room, the water dripping from the roofs of the chairs, and the men's feet making a dull sound on the wet pavements, or on the miry road below.
Soon a panic seized Griselda that perhaps that letter had been a little premature. Was it possible that Leslie Travers could think her unmaidenly to write as she had done?
The thought was torture, and the torture grew more and more hard to bear, as the leaden hours passed.
"No; I've brought a message from her ladyship--that Sir Maxwell Danby is below, and dines here; and you are to go downstairs."
"I will _not_ go downstairs--I will not see him," Griselda said passionately. "Say, Graves, please, that I am unwell, and desire to remain in my room."
"My poor child!--my poor child!" Graves said. "I think you had best go--I do, indeed!"
"You would not say so if you knew. _No_; I will not go. Make my apologies, and say what is true-that I am not well. But, Graves, that letter--_did_ you send it?"
"I have told you so, Miss Griselda. I speak the truth, as you ought to know."
"I gave it to his care as soon as I went down this morning; but----"
"The gentleman has been here, and David was ordered to refuse him admittance. I must take your message; there's the bell ringing again."
Griselda stood where Graves left her, her hands clasped together, and exclaimed:
"What shall I do?--wait till he writes? He will surely write! Oh, that I had someone to consult! Shall I leave the house?--shall I go to Mrs. Travers? No; I would not force myself on her--or anyone. I must wait. Surely my poor little rhymes were prophetic! Waiting and watching----"