She gave him a look which was more eloquent than any words, and then said, in a low voice:
"Dear white-winged dove," was the reply, "if you have been wandering over stormy waters tempest-tossed, let me love to think you have found your rest with me."
They were now at the door of Mrs. Travers's house; Leslie knocked, and it was opened by the old servant, who followed his young master wherever he went--a faithful retainer of the old type of servant, who, through every change and chance, would as soon think of cutting off a right hand as forsake his master's son.
Giles had a most comical face--a mass of furrows and wrinkles, a mouth which had very few teeth left, and small twinkling eyes. He wore a scratch yellow wig, and a long coat with huge buttons, on which was the crest of the Travers--a heron with a fish in its beak--a crest suggestive of the land of swamps and marshes, where herons had a good time, and swooped over their prey with but small fear of the aim of the sportsman--so few were the sportsmen who ever invaded those desolate wild tracks of water and peat-moss.
"Aye, Master Leslie," Giles said, "ye're late, and there's company at dinner."
"It is scarcely one o'clock, Giles. Where is my mother?"
"Up above with the company; and not well pleased you are not there, either."
"Oh!" Griselda said; "I do not wish to stay. Please take me back to the Parade! Let me see Mrs. Travers another day, _please_. I ask it as a favour."
She pleaded so earnestly, that old Giles interposed:
"There's room at my mistress's board for all that care to come. There never yet was a guest sent away for lack of room."
"It is not that--not that," Griselda said.
"Whatever it is," Leslie said, "I cannot let you leave us thus"--for Griselda had moved to the door. "Nay--now, nay--do not be so cruel!"
Here voices were heard on the stairs, and the next moment Mrs. Travers appeared, leaning on the arm of a man who wore a clerical dress, a black coat and bands, and a bag-wig tied with a black bow.
"My son, Mr. Relly," Mrs. Travers said; and then she looked with dismay at the figure by Leslie's side.
It was no time for explanation, and Leslie merely said:
"Miss Mainwaring will dine with us, mother."
"You are late, Leslie," Mrs. Travers replied, in a low, constrained voice; and she did not do more than bow to Griselda, adding: "Our mid-day meal has been waiting for some time. Shall we go to the dining-parlour at once?"