:^w v w V w v v^ v : -^VV v vVvy.S S§i«K V 1 , ^v%V jitfWy - - J J "■ ( ' V LIBRARY OF THE UN IVLRSITY OF ILLINOIS 8Z3 W727€ v.l The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. underlining of books are reasons and may result in dismissal from Theft, mutilation, and for disciplinary action the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN hxi X TO HER GEACE THE DUCHESS OF WESTMINSTER, THIS CHRONICLE OF A STRANGE CAREER IS BY PERMISSION "§ebictdtb. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER PAGK I. THE BATH IN 1747 . • • • -1 IT. AN HEIR-APPARENT'S FOLLOWERS . . .IS III. A CRUEL SNARE . . . . -41 IV. PARSON AND HIGHWAYMAN . . . 60 V. BABBLE ABOUT MANY THINGS, CHIEFLY THE FLEET PRISON . • . . .75 VI. WILL LADY GRIZEL FALL INTO THE SNARE I . !)< I VII. THE SHADOW DRAWETH NIGH . . - 103 VIII. A GRAVE CHAPTER WHICH MAY NOT BE SKIPPED. 120 IX. THE MASQUERADE AT RANELAGH . . .157 X. ROSEMARY MEAD . . . . .177 XI. A SYLLABUB PARTY AT THE BISHOP'S . . 207 XII. MR. PITT TO THE RESCUE .... 228 XIII. OVER THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY . . . 257 XIV. LADY GRIZEL PUTS ON HER ARMOUR . .281 LADY GRIZEL. CHAPTER I. THE BATH IX 1747. T ten .of the clock the block was fixed on the scaffold, and his lordship's coffin brought, with this inscription on the lid : ' Simon Doininvs Fraser de Lovat, decollat. April 9, 1747. Mt. suse. 80/ At eleven my lord drank a little burnt brandy, mounted the steps of the scaffold, and after examining the axe, repeating the while some lines of Horace, kneeled down before the block " A pretty lad, clad in pale blue and silver, was painfully striving to decipher the crabbed characters of a letter which he rested on his mother's knee, but as he stumbled over his task his lips quivered and his eyes swelled till his voice failed him altogether, vol. i. 1 LADY GRIZEL. and, flinging his arms around the lady's waist, he burst into tears. A pale child in a mob-cap, who sat on the floor hard by, turned her large lustrous eyes on him, and howled too out of mere sympathy. What a vastly pretty pair were these two — the stoutly-built blonde boyand the delicate black-haired maid — a vastly pretty pair ! " Himmel ! what ails de shilder V cried the lad's mother in shrill broken English. " Monsieur Stone, look to it. His Highnesses education is schandlich ! If de Prince of Wales were not so busy mit de baiting* of bears at Hockley-in-de-Hole, maybe he would see to Ins eldest poy." The Princess of Wales pushing aside her tam- bour turned to enlist the sympathies of her ladies with respect to her royal spouse's peccadilloes. Indeed she was always full of complaints concerning him, and with more show of reason than many querulous wives ; for Frederick, eldest son of George II., was, if possible, more contemptible than was his father. His temper was more obstinate, his understanding weaker, his selfishness as stupendous. He was fond, moreover, of low company, consorting with prizefighters, supping frequently with the royal midwife — and this last crime was looked upon by the people as worst of all, for in the year of grace 1717 a gulf yawned between upper and lower classes which, as in my old age I write this chronicle, time and strange events are beginning to fill up. THE BATH IN 1747. "Little Prince George has three tutors,," cried the Princess, emphasising her words with a needle. " Three ! A grand milord, a bishop, and dis Mon- sieur Stone. He is nine years old and can hardly read. Quelle scandale ! I complain to his High- ness of dis Monsieur Stone, and his Highness only laugh at me. He dress himself superbe in velvet, dis Monsieur Stone, and dine at taverns mit Monsieur Wilkes, qui est par trap vicieux, and neglects his charge." Mr. Stone bowed low as he strove to parry the attack of the Princess, smiling quietly to himself as he replied : " Poor Mr. Wilkes is the gayest companion in all England, madam. If your Highness would allow me to present him, you would, I warrant, fall under the spell. As to my charge, I can do little with him. He is good, but incorrigibly idle. My Lord Harcourt, chief governor, is a mere pageant. So that the future King of England acquires the grand air, he deems book-learning but of little worth. The bishop, as all the world knows, was a buccaneer before he assumed the cassock. Nor hath he thought it needful to change his way of life. His jovial Grace drinks with drunkards, lives with sinners, and herds with infidels for dinners. If I were trusted with the sole and entire charge of his Highness, then perhaps " li That you will never be," retorted the Prince of ]— 2 LADY GRIZEL. Wales, wlio during this colloquy had been lolling and yawning in his chair, alternately dragging the watch from either fob out of sheer laziness. " No, no ; my good Stone ; don't be ambitious. That the lad cannot read matters little. It ill becomes a prince to be a pedant. But I do not like his being a milksop. Pho ! To howl about a traitor's death. There ! hand the letter to Grizel ; she's sturdy enough — ought to have been a man, instead of a maid-of -honour." Mr. Stone said nothing, but his sinister eyes flashed for an instant on the Prince of Wales, then- froze under the cold mask of discipline. Lady Grizel took the letter in her large shapely hand, and read on : " Having placed his neck upon the block, in half a minute he dropped his kerchief, and the headsman, being now more expert at his business, thanks to experience with the other lords, severed the head from the body with one blow, both of which were placed in one coffin and taken back to the Tower." "So ends a bloody drama V remarked Henry Pox, who was sipping his morning glass of tepid water. " So end all traitors," added the Prince of Wales. ' ' They don't love our family much, these English people ; but they like us better than the Jacobites, who in the last rising brought home the horrors of THE BATH IN 1747. civil war to tliem. Thanks to them at least for that." A dreamy young lady who sat behind him (the second niaid-of-honour, in fact) sighed deeply as she drew the little girl towards her and kissed away her tears. " You may well sigh, Lady 'Gladys/' murmured a tall gentleman beside her, sadly. " Tullibardine, Balinerino, Kilmarnock, Lovat ! unfortunate gentle- men. We must lament that such steadfast spirits — worthy of the best days of virtuous Rome — should have been sacrificed to the hopeless efforts of a degraded family whose incompetence hath proved their ruin ! This corrupt age of ours shows us few such." "Always high-flown, Mr. Pitt," laughed Henry Fox. "You are too good for us. What a pity we can't live in the epoch of our choice." " My opinions may not be popular, neither do I run the race of popularity." "You assume antique virtue. In this wicked world we must float with the stream or be drowned." " Or by stemming turn the tide," retorted Mr. Pitt sternly — "the vile muddy tide. This is an age without honour or decency. Men are venal and debased \ women mere painted, unprincipled, charm- ing butterflies. Patriotism dies with these erring Northern lords. A patriot in these days is but a candidate for a sinecure. Politics, the art of obtain- LADY G1UZEL. ing a snug berth. Religion, a bugbear to fright children withal." Mr. Fox shook back his ruffles and laughed aloud. It was such fun to trot out the hobbies of this white-visaged young Pitt, who prated of fame, of virtue, and other eccentricities, and took refuge from the fashionable follies of his day in the pages of the Latin poets ; who was never known to play Faro, or go a-wenching, or crack a festive bottle at a tavern. True, though but eight -and -thirty or there- abouts, he was already a martyr to the gout, which might partly account for his odd ways. And was it not rare sport to draw him out, to make him at will, like a Jeremiah, lift up his voice in lamentation? Mr. Fox at least thought so, for to the lack of principle of a Frenchman he joined the habits of a Malay. He was a libertine with a nascent love of pelf, and was wont to horrify Mr. Pitt by boldly unveiling the guiding- spring of his life, which was an ever-growing respect for the God of Mammon.' Anything can be done with money, he was continu- ally repeating. Ergo, money-grubbing is the only fit occupation for a gentleman ; not by vulgar usury or anything low, but by bringing each career, what- ever it may be, into subserviency to the one end. At any rate Mr. Fox could not complain of having- been born in an unfitting epoch. Mr. Pitt was his exact antithesis. He actually quailed and shook with horror over Fox's sentiments. THE BATH IN 1747. The bait was always sure to bring a bite, nor did it fail on this occasion. " Money! Money! is the cry on all sides/' he went on. " Alas for England ! she buffets vainly in a sea of self-interest. Her children drain her life. Give, give! they cry. Gold, more gold! The strength and power of the State is wasting daily. The head of England is humbled before Europe. None so poor now as to do her reverence ! Eobert Walpole used to say, ' England should give laws to the world/ Such a thing may never be — never, never \" His melodious voice died in a sigh, like the chord of an ^Eolian harp. ^Eolian harps set some people's teeth on edge. The shrill Princess shivered and cried out : ' c Mein Gott ! Monsieur Bidd ! Cessez done. She is a dismal horrid place, your England, filled with dull beebles. Every man in England is talking of his stupid politics, every woman of her ugly clothes. As for you, you make mein blut run cold like a Cassandra. Give me my second glass of water, and bid the band play a merry jig, you complete raven \ ,y And yet the scene upon which the Princess looked out was lively enough. Tiers of nobly proportioned houses of hewn stone rose one above the other from among gardens and orchards, rosy with the promise of spring. Around circled a range of wooded hills, so distinct in the clear atmosphere of early morning, that each vista of wide street seemed abruptly closed LADY GRIZEL. with a wall of tender green. Along the centre of the valley meandered a silver thread, lost here and there in the tangle of overhanging boughs and the pale pink of opening blossoms. It was the smoothly- gliding Avon, which whispered as it went of the strange doings in this city of Bath — laughed and murmured of human folly as it swept along j then brawled proudly as it rushed over the weir of the holy resting-place it would pass presently, where the sins and sorrows — the petty fretting and noisy discontent — of the world of fashion would be forgot beside the tomb of England's kingliest king. Over the weir, under Pulteney Bridge crowned with its diadem of palaces, it swept, pausing for rest in shady pools to mark the long shadows of towering mansions on its breast — whereon were pictured, in fleeting vision, many an abigail with jaded mouth and sunken eye as she wearily flung a casement open to banish the fumes of the last night's debauch. The river, as it flowed, never found Bath asleep, for indeed Bath never slept. All day long, from morn till dusk, the dusty roads of approach re- echoed with the din of wheels — flying machines, whiskies, wagons, chaises, clattering down the steep inclines, to overturn probably at the bottom ; then when righted on their crazy straps and wooden perches with groans and curses, to rattle and wheeze after hairbreadth escapes and perils into the friendly THE BATH IN 1747. haven of the Bear or the White Hart. Fine ladies were never tired of toiling up the hills to show the gilded sculpture on their creaking coaches, while troops of beaux threaded among them in and out through blinding dust to air a new broidered coat or exhibit the perfection of their horsemanship. And what a heat and bustle in the crowded streets ! "What a constant patter of wooden heels on the broad flags ; what an echo of mincing steps ! What an unending cry of " By your leave/'' as (by their leave or not) chairmen forced a way amongst the throng, or footmen elbowed a passage for their mistresses ! What a singular confluence of un- mixing waters — the rich, the poor, the vulgar, the genteel, the sick, the strong in health ! Princes of the blood and peers with star and ribbon. Upstarts of fortune; negro-drivers from plantations faraway; sharpers, bullies, cripples, tradesmen, highwaymen; all jostling towards the public bath, or crowding, in eagerness for news, about coffee-house doors. As day gave place to night the racket knew no ceasing. The Assembly-rooms upon the North Parade close by the river, were gay with many a light, which threw long shadows across the bowling-green below, down to the water's brink. There the young flocked to move a minuet, while the old wrangled over the ace of spades. There thu young ladies of quality footed a country-dance, or Louvre, or Passepied with a hairdresser, while LADY GRTZEL. mamma boldly cheated lier London purveyor of bohea. The waters were flowing apparently to- gether for awhile. They ran side by side but did not really mingle ; for persons of quality looked on the lower orders as on strange dogs or parrots which might be toyed with when the whim took them, then cast aside. The sailor's landlady from Wapping trod on my lord chancellor's gouty toe, and playfully returned his oaths with interest. But hark ! the clock of the ancient Abbey chimes eleven. Mr. Nash (better known as King of Bath, and Marshal of the Black Ace), stops the band, for his will is law, his despotism supreme. The tea- merchant ruefully pays to the dowager the profit wrung from her London custom. The peruke- maker bows his best bow to the earl's daughter. Night is made hideous by the shouts of serving- men. Chairs swing along flagged alleys (like corks bobbing on ditch waters), each one preceded by its flambeau. Round the old Abbey's feet surge myriad twinkling lights like glow-worms at a merry-making — vanishing among the trees of the Orange Grove, along the high stone-girt ramparts of the North Parade, under the swaying signs of Stall Street, and the grey line of the venerable borough walls. Fashion is going to bed ? No ! See how each window brightens along the steep street which leads to the Circus and the upper town. The cream of rank inhabits those finely-sculptured mansions. Chair- THE BATH IN 1747. men discharge their glittering loads, and rolling* themselves in long coats settle down to snore beneath the stars. For rank and fashion is only beginning tihe night. The sun peeping in will look on wine and cards. Verily the God Trump's favourite shrine is Bath, and Hoyle is his prophet. Thither flock, when it seems good to them, all that is richest, gayest, wittiest, in England, to mingle with the crippled and the sick. Why ? To dally for stomach-sake with tepid water, to batten on the delights of Faro and quadrille, and the joys of E. 0., and the new game called whist. At dawn the beau reels off to bed ; her Grace looks peevishly out on the silver stream — the passing scavenger — and shuts out the garish day. Surely Bath will now go to rest ? No. The other portion of the hive is up and stirring ; the pump-room is besieged. The public bath in view of the whole street is full of half-clad quality ; the roads alive with newly-arrived chaises. The Abbey bells ring- out in honour of a new arrival; the city waits attend with madrigals; the courtyards of the Bear and Hart are crowded with grooms, postilions ; horses wincing* and lashing* out under the currycomb. Valetudinarians seek to creep unharmed between avenues of flying heels on this their only way to the wells. Ladies are carried in their chairs through the courtyard of the Bear, and here, from the stable- men no doubt, they learn the ingenious expletives 12 LADY GRIZEL. with which it is their polite habit to garnish their conversation. Early in the morning it must be admitted that Bath doth not look well. She doth things in public which befit a more private scene. Soil of ail kinds, tossed from door and window, litters the flags. Inquiring pigs issue from secret haunts, to ap- praise the foulness of the offal. Butchers slay and prepare their meat before their doors, bleeding their beasts into the kennel. Housewives go through an outward ceremony of washing clothes in the common conduit. Dames en deshabille in close chip-hats and frayed unclean brocades, pick their way amongst unpleasing trifles towards the king's bath, while beggars and market wenches lean elbows on the Stall Street parapet, staring at the statue of Bladud and raddled fashion in the scummy water. For the steaming stew is open to the air. Her Grace, in a cotton wrapper with a kerchief stuck in Jier hat for the sake of her perspiration, here meets the bohea merchant whom she robbed the night before, both decorously buried to the chin in ojDalescent soup beset with motes. She clings to the same brass ring with him to steady her steps, offers him snuff or a sniff at the nosegay which floats before her on a tray, and mops her heated brow as she nods to a peeling countess opposite. Truly vanity may not be counted among the vices of these ladies, or they could not expose the chipped paint of their THE BATH IN 1747. cheeks and lips to the gaze of quality at the pump- room window above. The fresh market-wench marvels, as she rests her basket for a moment on the low wall, that this should be called "beauty" by the great. Hodge, the plough-boy, as she well knows, is quite content with the downy peach- texture of her cheek. Well, well ! the quality and the poor are vastly wide apart sure-ly. Chirruping a carol she wends her way, while a fashionable lover in curlpapers looks down on his adored, whose smeared roses are unbecomingly mingled with blurred lilies, and consoles himself for her battered aspect with the thought that the dip improves her health, while as for her complexion, will it not be as faultlessly pink and white as ever by dinner-time ? Moreover I must remind my grand-children that in these days of my youth squalor and grandeur were always cheek by jowl. Stiffest brocades and strings of costly pearls covered underlinen which — well, it was washed once a month in the common conduit. I remember that the most fastidious beau in Bath perched in a low- browed tenement down a dark alley, whose crazy windows looked out on the pig- sty. The ceiling of his one room was blackened by the flaring of an ill- smelling link set in a silver sconce. The dirt on his floor was hidden under a wash of soot and small - beer ; his furniture was of the scantiest ; yet he emerged daily from his chrysalis a splendid butter- LADY GRIZEL. fly in all the glorious panoply of flour and salmon satin worked with gold. The patrician and tlie beggar dwelt side by side. Mushroom hovels grew about palace-gates. Lazarus looked wistfully at Dives as he cantered by, but never a crumb did he receive in passing. The meteor flashed and was gone,, and Lazarus drew close his rags and cursed him. But let me raise again the phantom of the past on the mirror of memory. See ! The dowager emerges from her bath, and having in a convenient closet renewed the scattered glories of her skin, proceeds to join the ranks of fashion in the pump-room above. She drinks her jorum of lukewarm water, curtseys to royalty, con- sumes the last scandal, breakfasts in public with her chosen gossips, then retires to the milliner's across the little court to weep over the last novel till 'tis time to array herself for dinner. By three o'clock the heaviest headed of the gambling set are up and ready for the fray again. All Bath unites at dinner, then promenades under Harrison's sycamores by Avon's bank till the hour comes round for driving, and so the endless wheel of fashion twirls, and Bath is never allowed one hour of rest. The pump-room is the favourite resort of the Princess of Wales during her annual sojourn with her court at Bath. It amuses her to watch the people in the tank below, whilst holding a morning THE BATH IN 1747. levee of her lord's adherents. She ever liked Bath better than London, for in the latter city she could not avoid perceiving how the quality was hated by the scum. People were always saying rude things within her hearing, wishing his gracious Majesty at the devil, or what not. She could not help know- ing that George II. could boast of the unusual distinction of being loathed and despised by all his subjects, and she rather enjoyed it, for that gracious monarch was sworn enemy to Iris eldest son (her husband) and all that belonged to him. But then the honest London burghers discovered also that Frederick was no whit less disreputable than his royal parent, and began to detest him equally, to- gether with the posse of his bedizened friends and favourites. Not that any one desired to thrust the new family from the throne. The exiled House of Stuart was infinitely worse than the reigning House of Brunswick. Moreover, the details of the late rising (of which Lord Lovat was the last victim) were fresh in the minds of all. A great horror of Jacobitism and of Jacobites invaded the public- mind. True, George was a disgrace to human nature, but so also was the Chevalier to a yet deeper degree. People were resolved then to endure their fate with as little grimacing as they might, looking hopefully forward to a better day somewhere in the dim future; but they took little trouble to conceal their sentiments from the ken of either King or i6 LADY GRIZEL. Prince. Nobody likes to bear curses and visible signs of opprobrium more than is absolutely needful. Therefore the Princess always enjoyed her sojourn at the Bath, for the people who grimaced and growled never went thither, and she was able to for- get for awhile that the public disliked the royal father and the royal son equally, distrusted his Majesty's ministers, and were altogether exceedingly disgusted with their fate. The King and his court, and the Heir-apparent and his court, were in the position of natural enemies united for the nonce against a com- mon foe. The court of the Prince of Wales always followed him when he went to the Bath, and the Princess, his spouse, always deemed the pump- room a fitting point of vantage from whence to contemplate her world. She is contemplating her world now from her watch-tower. Her subjects defile before her each morning on this little square of stones, for hither each modish man or woman must come to drink the daily modicum of water. The punrp-roora occupies one end of a small paved yard, its three entrances being- approached by a few steps. The old Abbey, with its bellowing chimes and crumbling* saints, stands at the other ; while its two sides are bounded by rows of chocolate-houses and milliners' shops, in one or other of which fricassees of news are con- stantly being cooked for the delectation of the royal palate. One coffee-house is sacred to the doctors THE BATH IN 1747. 17 who sit in solemn conclave hour after hour blinking at cripples like vultures spying out carcasses — a row of funereal suits, gold-headed canes, and portentous perukes. Through an archway leading into Stall Street a constant bustle is visible in the White Hart yard, and great is the commotion in the royal circle when an unfamiliar coach draws up, and the bells peal out their welcome. Her Highness never fails with undignified eagerness to drop her needle, ex- claiming : " Grizel, my loafe ! Go zee oo's gum V And the beautiful maid of honour instantly sweeps her grand skirts across the yard, followed by a bevy of adorers, scattering the maimed and halt who doze in the sun, in order to learn every particular for her mistress without delay relative to the new arrival. vol. 1. CHAPTER II. AN HEIR-APPARENT's FOLLOWERS. S a new-comer to Bath, I must present you to their Highnesses. Augusta, Princess of Saxe-Gotha, was never pretty. At her best she was tall, angular, bony; with arms of unnatural length which resembled a pair of oars. At the time when our story opens, her voice was shrill, her temper acid, her neck like unto a corkscrew. She rated her tire- women in language more forcible than lady-like. She was querulous because, poor thing, nobody on the world's face loved her, and indeed there was not much that was lovable about the Princess of Wales. According to the sublime theory of the equalisation of matter, she must have had a charm of some kind if one could only find it. She was a Princess, which was something, and had a tender heart which longed to hang itself on some one's breast. That she should AN HEIR-APPARENTS FOLLO WERS. 1 9 love her husband was out of the question. She could only despise Prince Frederick, and moreover it is as much a tradition of the House of Brunswick that wives should hate their husbands as that fathers should detest their sons. The royal pair were as usual surrounded by their household^ as well as by a mob of adventurers of every degree. Men of virtue and of wit, time- servers,, runners, gamblers ; eagles and owls, doves and cormorants ; — all plumed themselves under the smile of their future King. Behind the Princess, seated on low chairs, were her two maids of honour. The one, comely and sweet-looking, was Lady Gladys, daughter of the Duke of Richmond, whose eldest girl eloped with Henry Fox. That gentleman may thus be said to have set the dangerous fashion of clandestine mar- riages which afterwards became the rage, and to have rendered modish the vast crew of Fleet parsons, who, by placing temptation within reach, wrought havoc in many a noble family. Lady Gladys had yet one other sister, Sarah, a child in a mob-cap who was with her at the Bath. That black-eyed beauty was little Prince George's prime favourite and chosen playfellow, and verily, as folks frequently remarked, the two children made a vastly pretty pair. The other maid of honour was Lady Grizel — fairest of the fair. Who may hope to describe that 9 9. 20 LADY GRIZEL. marvellous beauty, whose grandeur electrified even the rough Irish chairman as he closed his lid over her stately head? The purely-modelled features; the finely-chiselled nose, the scornful mouth, the liquid eye, whose sapphire blue was set off by dark silken lashes ; above all, the clear ivory skin (never daubed with paint), which was only one shade more creamy than the luxuriant masses of her highly- powdered hair. She knew that she was peerless, among the beautiful, for she read the fact in the ogle of each beau, and swept on smiling with tip- tilted nose, walking unharmed over rows of bleed- ing hearts, as whilom Cunegunda did on red-hot ploughshares. Behind her, like a shimmering trail of light upon the sea, lay those rows of shattered hearts. She took up none upon her march, sagely remarking, when reproached for cruelty, that it is wonderful how easily broken hearts are mended. Women shook their heads, vowing that the maid of honour would surely come to shipwreck. Young- Mr . Pitt thought otherwise. He believed in the theory of the Beautiful and Good. Surely so fair a casket should contain an angel's soul, which for example's sake would linger awhile, then speed up- wards to a more fitting station. Sure none would harm so beautiful a thing, to look on which was in itself a privilege. But Mr. Pitt, though a clever and rising young man, was not infallible. Lady Grizel was wild; given to skipping* after the manner AN HEIR-APPARENT S FOLLO WERS. 2 r of a fawn. She was living, too, in a wicked world. Would her masculine turn of mind, her sturdy in- dependent spirit, save her from snares and pitfalls ? "We shall see. Her mistress, the Princess, looked gravely sometimes on her escapades, saying that she out-heroded Herod even in an age of license ; but the young lady laughed and rippled out a blithe roulade, and her Highness, smiling, tapped her cheek, declaring there was naught to be done with such a " zaucy buss." Everybody loved Lady Grizel for her spontaneous gaiety and unaffected enjoyment of life, just as people love to watch a butterfly flitting like a jewel endowed with movement amongst sunlit flowers. Which of us may deny the occult power of the Beautiful ? None of Prince Frederick's lords were prepared to do so. On the contrary, they one and all grovelled at her dainty feet, swearing that she was lovelier than Helen of Troy — that she was Perfection come down to earth — laying the respon- sibility of her wild ways and carelessness of the world's opinion upon the strange schooling of her earlier years. For although now, at seventeen, she was the reigning toast, the champion heart-breaker, the favourite maid of honour of a prospective Queen of England, yet the early girlhood of Lady Grizel was spent in grinding poverty and trouble. Her father, Earl Gowering, died intestate when she was but two years old, leaving his wife and daughter to LADY GRIZEL. the care of a bastard son. The fortune and title strayed off to an unknown heir, and the three were left face to face with penury. A great name fills no stomach, as Lady Grizel found to her cost. Her mother, too proud to proclaim her state, sold her jewels, and kept a small lodging-house during the remainder of her life in a remote western town ; and there, rocked by Atlantic billows, the neglected child grew up to womanhood, whilst her mother trembled at her increasing beauty. Untamed as the seaniew, she sported on the cliffs, worshipped as divine by the rough sailor lads, wandering hand in hand sometimes with her tall grave brother, whose stern face was the image of her own without its bright- ness. There she learned that she was beautiful, and began to loathe her coarse woollen gown, trimming its scant folds with such bits of finery as the lapping waters threw up at her feet. On the remote western headland she dragged out a monotonous existence, dreaming with discontent of grand dead ancestors and her own piteous lot — dreaming of how John, Earl Gowering, received a kiss from Elizabeth her- self as a reward for the first news of the Ar niada\s rout; of how Maurice, thirteenth Earl, rode into London with the Second Charles ; of how Gerard, fifteenth Earl, was honoured by a hand-shake from the gloomy William. Yet, here was she, direct heiress of their ancient name, a-running of messages on a shingly beach, or scheming of dinners for vulgar AN HEIR-APPARENTS FOLL O WERS. 23 farm-folk — simply because her father forgot to make a will before entering on a shameful tavern brawl. She hated his memory for the wrong done to her, his sole legitimate offspring. What a pity that Jasper was a bastard. But for that envious bend- sinister he would have slid into his father's seat and all would have been well, for she and Jasper loved one another despite their disparity in years, as the ivy loves the oak, the oak the ivy. Jasper was always all that was good and kind, but then she had imbibed with mother's-rnilk the prevailing con- tempt for a bend- sinister. It was amusing' to mark the motherly airs of the little damsel towards her big brother. She loved, and patronised, and half feared him in her heart, the only being on earth she ever feared. He loved, and chid, and pitied her, for was it not sad to see such hio-h-born loveliness o wasted among boors ? A time came when brother and sister were parted. The Countess Gowering died, and the Prime Minister, hearing of her daughter's case, procured for her the post of maid of honour to the Princess of Wales. Sweet are the uses of adversity, we are told. Poverty had no sweets for Lady Grizel. In after days she retained a fierce enjoyment of the good things of this world, bred of that grinding early time ; an unromantic appreciation of wealth and grandeur such as few can feel who have not gone supperless to bed. From the moment she 24 LADY GRIZEL. appeared at court her triumph was complete. All were enchanted by the lovely madcap. Such beauty and so old a name were voted an ample dowry. Peers of all ranks were suitors for her hand. For a time she scoffed at all. The Princess of Wales bethought herself that the girl might be made use- ful as a bait to secure some important personage for her lord's party against the King's. It behoved her to lure away as many as might be from his Majesty's side to that of the Heir-apparent, so she decided that Lady Grizel's hand should be a reward for such defection. There was the old Duke of Tewkesbury, for example, a hoary old reprobate, who could not be got to declare himself. He was past seventy certainly, but then he was also the richest and greatest duke of England. Lady Grizel, however, declined the intended honour. "No," she said; "he is a toothless lion. Let him be. He is an old dear, and I love to tease him ; but as to becoming premiere duchesse at so great a sacrifice, no ! I am over young to be his wife." Then she reflected that it might be as well to be a duchess, after all, and finally threw the handker- chief to the young Duke of Hamilton, who was pre- paring his trunks for the grand tour. She did not love his Grace, but saw in him the making of a very proper husband. A noble pair they looked as they plighted their troth. The Prince of Wales swore with unnecessary oaths that he would see the knot AN HEIR-APPARENTS FOLLOWERS. 25 tied before the young gentleman started on his travels, but Lady Grizel, with wit beyond her years, declared that those travels should be his probation ; that he should write to her post by post, and claim her on his return home after coquetting with Vanity Fair and combating Apollyon in the form of foreign nymphs. Alas for the constancy of man ! Apollyon triumphed. When you are now introduced to her in the Bath pump-room her swain has been abroad two years, and hath writ but one short letter to his affianced during all that time ! How has the girl borne the insult ? you will ask, no doubt. Has she wasted, or fumed, or pined, or refused her food ? Not she. Women of her mould have tripped smiling to the stake. . She drives the young men crazy with her tricks. She invents dreadfully bewitching morning caps, from under which she laughs at the wheezy old Duke of Tewkes- bury, who swears by his gods that this delicious morsel shall some day be his. Some day, indeed ! Sure he cannot have so many yet to live ! She hath furnished fine rooms in Monmouth Street, Soho, where, when off duty, she ravishes the beaux with noisy suppers. After all, save as a matter of pride, why should she regret the fickle one ? There are more fish in the sea, as an old adage saith. Yet while she sang, her heart was torn and rent. Her besetting sin was pride, and it hurt her much that 26 LADY GRIZEL. the man she chose should treat her thus. Perhaps it was all a mistake. Couriers may break their necks or lose their despatches. She would wait awhile in case the matter might be explained. The Duke would return home — when ? Alas ! his faithlessness left her in ignorance. Oh, if he really meant to jilt her ! The idea was maddening, for Lady Grizel was exceeding proud. Yes : pride is the family failing, for Jasper, too, was proud, who seldom saw his sister now. The bastard was too poor and too haughty to flaunt his bend- sinister at court. When his sister was borne from him he was glad that she should take a place in her fitting sphere, and was pleased to be relieved from a grave responsibility. Then he started on his soli- tary road in pursuit of a name (for his father gave him none), and the next news the maid of honour had of him was that the imprudent young- man had been taken at Culloden, fighting under the rebel flag. Then she wrung her hands and wept, and all the beaux wept too, regardless of their rouge, because their goddess was in sorrow; and the Prince of Wales vowed that for her sake, however great a traitor, the delinquent should be freed. As she sat on her chair behind her Eoyal Highness, she was in a fever (albeit her face was like marble), for the only one on earth who was tied to her by blood — save an old aunt who abode here at Bath — was riding along the London road to thank her for his liberty AN HEIR-APPARENTS FOLLOWERS. 17 and life, bearing too, perhaps — who knows ? — news of the vanished Duke of Hamilton. But now it is time you should more closely contemplate the rest of the group who stand around their Highnesses. The most interesting of the party were William Pitt and Henry Fox, because both were candidates for the highest honours of St. Stephen's, and both had already mounted the first rung on the ladder of fame. Pitt was made Paymaster- General the pre- vious year, while Fox, about the same time, became Secretary at War. They were both looked upon as " coming men," and the Prince of Wales was no little proud of having added two such promising colts to his paddock. Mr. Pitt, indeed, was a Lord of his Bedchamber, and therefore held as it were in double vassalage, which was an extra feather in the Prince's cap ; Mr. Pitt being generally accepted as the more capable of the two young warriors. What a contrast were the pair ! Fox fat, idle, licentious, grasping, unscrupulous. Pitt tall, graceful, dignified, virtuous. Already his speeches in Parliament were listened to with respect. The foolish Prime Minister, his goggle-eyed Grace of Newcastle, was terrified by his sarcasms, stricken dumb by the menacing- flashes of his commanding eye. He had been advised — this foolish Duke whose feeble hand was daily steering his country's bark closer to the rocks — to make conciliatory overtures to the young man. But he had always shaken his head, saying help- 28 LADY GRIZEL. lessly, " This terrible fellow is too dangerous. How can I hold him ? He has not a vice. His foible is not even personal ambition. His honesty in these degenerate days would bring us to inevitable ruin. What? a man who never drinks, or gambles, or spends his nights at hazard, or affects jockeydom at New- market. A man who professes to love his country for herself! The man's a prodigious monster. No, no ! I prefer Fox, who is a man of the world, and under- stands his epoch and a bribe as well as most men." Moreover, his Gracious Majesty himself began to look with vague apprehension at young Mr. Pitt as a dreadful firebrand who treated Hanover as a potato-plot, instead of as a Garden of Eden ; who did not admire German ankles, German waists, or German pickled cabbage. Hanover was the apple of his Majesty's eye, therefore he who presumed not to love Hanover was, of necessity, his Majesty's enemy. Now he who was the King's enemy became by that fact the beloved of his undutiful son Prince Frederick. Hence the position Mr. Pitt held at the Prince's court, and hence the objection of his Grace of Newcastle to burn his fingers with him. And so Mr. Pitt, at thirty-nine, was Lord of the Bedchamber to the Prince of Wales and Paymaster- General — no more — and ate his virtuous heart out day by day as humiliation was poured upon humiliation on his country's head by the foolishness and incompetence of the purblind Prime Minister. AN HEIR-APPARENT S FOLLOWERS. 29 Mr. Fox, on the other hand, coquetted with all parties. Professing no principle but love of him- self, he was all things to all men; kissing the chalkstones on old G-eorge II. 's knuckles one day, the soft white fingers of the Prince of Wales the next. The only time he ever committed himself was when he eloped with the sister of Lady Gladys, and created a scandal by wedding a duke's daughter at the Fleet. Great was the outcry at the time, for till he set the fashion, none but low people sought out the services of a drunken brandy-parson. But once the example set, it became modish to be tied up on the sly. Indeed, such was the feverish love of excitement which characterised those good old days when I was young, that idle lordlings and ladykms from mere desoeuvrement would pop forth in an hackney coach, be married, and quietly come home again. The amusement was cheap at a guinea, and what easier than to annul the ceremony by a second piece of gold ? The sole registers employed in weddings of this kind were the pencilled entries in a drunkard's greasy note-book, which he copied or not into a larger and more orthodox volume according to the desires of the wedded. A dirty scrap of paper is easily torn up, and a guinea is a guinea all the world over. Dear heart ! what strange things we did in those days long ago, before his present decorous Majesty, King George III., taught us to be respect- 3 o LADY GRIZEL. able. A loyal aristocracy always follows the lead of its chief, and it must be admitted that the behaviour of the Second Greorge was but an ill example. A disreputable King whom everybody hated, a Queen who hated her husband and her son. A bevy of daughters who washed linen of the dirtiest kind under the noses of all about them. Quel example ! Happy's the wooing that's not long a doing. Many a belle have I known who, to clear herself of debt, hath espoused a "professional husband" hired for the ceremony, and then, pleading coverture, hath snapped her pretty fingers in the faces of her duns. The proceeding was ever safe for both parties, for husband and wife parted as they met. She never revealed her husband's dwelling that he might be pursued by an irate milliner or mantua- maker because she never knew it. Thanks to 'the new mode, the brandy-parsons made quite a com- fortable income out of their note-books, for gentlemen in high places were content to pay an occasional guinea now and then to keep their amorous proceedings dark, and the two classes came at length to work so well together that the parsons, out of complaisance, left blank spaces in their books lest any one should have occasion to desire a marriage ante-dated. Things came to such a pitch at last that you could obtain a certificate at a certain brandy-shop, called the Bull and Garter, AN HE1R-APPARENTS FOLLOWERS. 31 without the trouble of a ceremony at all ! But such confusion was found to arise from this ingenious arrangement that ministers were obliged to put down the traffic altogether,, and in 1753 a law was passed condemning every future marriage as illegal which should be solemnised without banns or license. We are now dealing, however, with 1747. There was a third gentleman standing near the Princess who affected the court circle, and who just now was bending over Lady Grizel as he toyed with his muff, whispering tender nothings to which she listened half-amused. Unlike young Pitt and Fox, he was not a politician. He was not angling for a sinecure, neither was he writhing under the blunders of a prime minister. No. He was a soldier, as might be seen by his military wig, his scarlet coat faced with black, and buff vest with crowns upon the buttons. This was the Honourable Jack Bellasis, only brother of my Lord Bellasis, a very pretty fellow after whose beaux yeux half the court ladies languished. Though he, like most younger sons, was poor, yet had he quite the grand air \ his person was well formed ; his mincing gait was perfect. Many a painted houri had striven to decoy him to the Fleet, but the Honourable Jack knew better. Indeed some said that he was saved from such folly by hopeless love, but whether he hankered after Lady Gladys or Lady Grizel gossip was uncertain. He was as yet himself uncertain ; 32 LADY GRIZEL. neither did it matter much, for the one maid-of-honour was betrothed to a duke, whilst the other would never be allowed to wed a younger son. Lady Gladys on her side was evidently in love with him. She followed his movements with her eyes, flushed scarlet when he entered the pump-room, thought that no one could drink tepid water so gracefully as he. Yet how foolish it all was ! She was too proper to elope as her elder sister had done, and so probably was he, for the Honourable Jack, if an Adonis, was decidedly prim, with antiquated ways and narrow old-fashioned ideas. Sure these two would never visit the Fleet together. So said the world; adding slyly that with wild Lady Grizel it might perchance be otherwise, should her more ardent and impetuous nature ever kindle his cold one into warmth. But she, though dreadfully wild and reckless, was ambitious, and would never be likely to do so silly a thing*. She certainly flirted over-much with the handsome soldier, considering her solemn engagement to the vanished Duke. Yet, after all, was not his Grace of Hamilton hob-nobbingwith Apollyon in a booth of Vanity Fair ? Why should not his future duchess do the same ? During the course of this gossip of ours the tank below had been emptying itself, and the pump-room was full. The Princess had said a civil thing to every raddled countess, while the Prince of Wales yawned in their faces. Mr. Fox still trotted out AN HEIR-APPA RENTS FOLLOWERS. 33 the hobby of Mr. Pitt, and laughed in his sleeve at the naivete of that gentleman. "Of course," Fox observed languidly, "every man has his price. Some are more expensive than others; that is all. Is it not fair, too, that each should be paid according to his value ? Every peer " "For peers read place-hunters," interrupted Pitt hotly. CC I vow the state of England makes me sick. The waste of public money is fearful. And think of the disgraceful purposes to which it is applied ! Corruption saps the country to its core. This is the rotten branch of the constitution. It must be amputated, or the whole tree will perish." "We must put up with our infirmities," Fox said quietly. ' ' Amputation might mean death. It generally does." " Blind, blind !" retorted the other. u We art- despised among nation*. Our flag is insulted on the seas. The people are crushed and mulcted oi their hardly- earned coin — for what ? That my lord may comfortably enjoy his sinecure. But take care ! We pass through a dangerous crisis. There is no telling what may come of it." "Mr. Pitt, the raven!" laughed a young man who approached to take his glass. " Observe the beaklike nose and glittering eye and body clothed in black from top to toe.- Most gloomy of birds, good-morning !" vol. 1. 34 LADY GRIZEL. "Do I knowdis ugly fellow mit de Chinese eyes?'' whispered the Princess to Lady Grizel. "It is Mr. Wilkes/' returned the Honourable Jack in an undertone. "The ugliest, wickedest, pleasantest young man in Bath. He was presented to your Highness at Mr. Nash's comfit-tea. Few can forget that strangely ugly face." "I know now," rejoined the Princess, pursing up her lips. "He is de bosom friend of Monsieur Stone, de tutor, and a shocking rake." " News, ladies all ! glorious news \" cried Wilkes gaily. " Hath his Grace of Newcastle done aught that's wise ?" asked Pitt, smiling. " You expect the impossible," retorted the other. " You know that the Prime Minister is a born fool. I have just spied a coach rumbling down the hill. It is covered with dust. The postilion wears tartan. Perhaps it is Charles Edward come to take us prisoners ! And yet, not so, for it lurched over in the ruts at the bridge-foot, and a grave gentleman emerged, of finer presence than the Chevalier. He was invited to leave his coach with the postilion and walk into the town, but observed that an earl must enter a city as befits his rank. But I beg pardon. I interrupt a reading." "The reading is over," said Lady Grizel. "An edifying one ; for it shows little Prince George to have a tender heart." AN HEIR-APPARENTS FOLLOWERS. 35 " More likely that Prince George wept for shame because he cannot read/' remarked Stone, coming forward. " As her Royal Highness said, it is dis- graceful ? If I might have the sole direction of the boy " "Bravo, friend Stone!" whispered Wilkes to him. "That man's fortune is made who moulds the character of a future sovereign. But see ! Here comes your coadjutor — the broken-winded Bishop and his jackal — waddling like crows across the yard, emblems of sloth and indigestion/' " Hold thy clatter, Stone \" shouted the Prince of Wales. t€ Thou knowest that an ass may not wear horse's trappings !" "De bells !" cried the Princess, to avert a storm. {C Grizel, my loafe^ go see oo's gum !" The fat Bishop of Norwich and his chaplain puffed up the pump-room steps and elbowed a passage towards the royal party, followed by bowing- Mr. Xash and the new arrival. The buccaneer Bishop and his pet parson were very much alike ; round, red, wheezy, with coarse mouths, tubercular noses, and huge cauliflower wigs. The parson's back was always on the bend. He was always raising his eyes and dumpy hands to heaven as if to say, " Oh ! what a witty man of God is this my patron !" And he was wise in his generation, for he owed all to this Bishop who picked him out of the Fleet one day, when that churchman reeled 36 LAD Y GRIZEL. drunken thitherwards. Not that his Grace was a mere roystering sot; far from it. For years he read prayers each morning in the Princess's ante- chamber while she dressed, and gained her respect once on a time by ceasing his orisons when she slammed the door. " Go on V she screamed, on that occasion. " Madam/ ' he answered, " my prayers may not be read through a keyhole." " Gott im Himmel \" she retorted testily, " does; the man wish to see me in my bath V 3 Nevertheless, she accepted the rebuke and thought better of him ever after, obtaining for him the office of tutor to Prince George, and even hinting that possibly he might die at Lambeth. Aware of his own shortcomings in the way of learning, however, he left the care of the Prince entirely to Stone (who would gladly have had the lad all to himself), save in the presence of his parents, when he always made a point of lecturing his pupil after a fashion which exasperated the other tutor. Yet in the main, the two jogged along together well enough. For the Bishop knew Stone to be extremely clever, and leaned heavily on his colleague in the matter of book-lore. " A good-morning to your Royal Highness/' he panted with a low bow, which was imitated by his pet parson. " I am come to fetch my little Prince. Verily, it behoveth him to learn his articles of faith. Brother Stone will spare him to me for AN HEIR-APPARENVS FOLLOWERS. 37 half an hour. In tears ! Heyday I" he continued, laying a grimy snuff-stained paw on the child's head. ' c There, there ; don't cry. Go along with good Parson Ames, who will amuse him/' The boy looked up half sulkily. " May she come too, my little wife V 3 he inquired, twining loving arms around the small beauty with black eyes. u Your little wife, forsooth \" cried Lady Grizel, seizing the child's frock in mischief. " She stops with 'me." The small beauty knitted her small brows fiercely, •doubled her small fist, and blurted out : " Save me, Georgy. I hate her, I hate her, I hate her \" The two innocents set on Lady Grizel, and pum- melled her with all their united strength till she was rescued by the Honourable Jack. ""What spiteful scorpions !" she cried, resettling her tumbled draperies. CC I protest I must look hideous \" " Lovelier than ever with that faint flush," whis- pered amorous Jack. " Do let de childer alone," reproved the Princess of Wales. rtiveness. So the repulsion THE SNARE. 91 which people felt upon first making his acquaintance usually vanished in a day or two, making place for a feeling of self-reproach in that they had been beguiled by false appearances to misjudge so good a man. Mr. Stone was on the whole in a good humour, though he already blamed himself for flying in the face of prudence in the matter of that health- drink- ing. He never cared a farthing for the Chevalier, and being ambitious was little likely to tie himself to a fallen cause. That any one should have taken him to be in earnest was of course out of the question. What really vexed him was that his temper should still be so undisciplined. Those who inhabit palaces must expect kicks. The Prince of Wales had by right of his rank dubbed him an ass in public. It was extremely ill-bred of the Prince of Wales, and a wise man would have contented him- self with branding his master as a cur and a fool in his inmost heart. Young Mr. Wilkes, most genial of libertines, had soundly rated him for his folly, and he had cried "Peccavi." Then the evening was passed right merrily, Wilkes pouring forth his inexhaustible fund of anecdote with brilliant humour, and the gentlemen at the tavern saw a good deal of Mr. Stone's tusks over their bottle. He hung his wig on its block, removed the patches from the corners of his mouth, replaced 92 LADY GRIZEL. them in a japanned box, and nodded pleasantly to his reflection in the glass. Then he walked about his chamber in a long brocaded dressing-gown, and hummed a satisfied little tune as Tvith hands behind his back he considered his position. " Patience \" he said to himself. " Be patient and thou shalt establish a dominion over thy pupiL Wilkes was right when he remarked that that man's fortune 'a made who hath the moulding of a future- King's character. Cunning dog ! As sharp as a needle is young Wilkes, but over- vicious. He shall be reformed; for even in this barefaced time it becomes us to wear our sheep's-clothing decently. The Bishop relies on thee, Andrew Stone; Lord Har court, chief governor, is a bit of buckram ; the Princess of Wales is to be won — the poor thing is longing for a peg to hang her heart upon. Little George is a goose. Pity his mamma maketh such a fool of him. No matter ! Andrew Stone shall pull the wires, and the whole set of naughty, wicked, absurd puppets shall dance unto his piping. What of my Lord Bute, the new Scottish scarecrow ? Her Poyal Highness evidently admired that shapely leg of his as much as he doth himself. A fine man and pompous, therefore of little wit ; a huge organism of the lower sort like a stupid whale or elephant. A born courtier though. With what consummate breeding he failed to observe the Prince of Wales pilfering his whist winnings ! He aspires to favour THE SNARE. 93 with the Princess, so his Grace of Newcastle, the Prime Minister, must be told of this; though he is evidently too much eaten up with vanity to be dangerous. No more dangerous than is discon- tented Pitt — the sable Quixote \" As he rustled to and fro in his dressing-gown, Mr. Stone's half smile was replaced by a vexed frown. " That too beautiful maid-of-honour — what of her ? Instinct says she hates me, and that I should fear her. There is something menacing in the bold outlook of her sapphire eye through the thicket of its lashes, something too masculine in the firm bigness of her finely-formed white hand. A mas- culine woman is better as a friend than as an enemy, for she may be driven to employ the weapons of both sexes; in which case her merely male foe would be surely worsted in a battle. An enigma ! Doth she really love the Princess, or is she acting ? Is her wild giddiness assumed ? What a power such fiery beauty might become should the whim seize her to toy with politics ! No fear of that. Cards and their toilet occupy our ladies nowadays. A carding woman is no better than Toby the wise dog, and yet — and yet — I should sleep easier if I could understand this lovely riddle." Having larded his face with perfumed unguent for the night, and settled his laced nightcap, the tutor attuned his mind to sleej) by turning to more 1 94 LADY GRIZEL. pleasing food for thought than Lady GrizePs firm larg'e white hand with trumps in it. He laughed aloud at Wilkes's latest sally, and flinging wide his casement looked on the flowing river. He marked the parson's son in his shabby livery still leaning on the parapet, as he had seen him half an hour before. He saw him rouse himself with a shake and saunter away. His eye lingered on the pearly walls of the ancient Abbey, on the black mass of the deserted Assembly-rooms, on the shimmering Green, and travelled across the water to Sydney Gardens and the wooded bowl of hills. How still lay nature under the moonbeams ! He fancied he could hear the frogs embracing among the weeds — coy Miss Frog bidding Master Frog demand her hand of her mamma. Not a soul was stirring, for gambling fashion lived in the upper town. The old custom of the couvre-feu might still have been in vogue, for no lights were visible save those shining from above. Yes ! one light was twinkling through the trees at the end of Harrison's Walk. Strange ! For there was no dwelling there except the Pierrepoint Chapel — last bed-place of departed Pierrepoints. Was it a corpse-candle or some dishonest knave rifling the coffins of that ancient family ? As he looked clown from his eyrie on Avonbank, striving to pierce the shadow, Mr. Stone seemed to perceive figures moving to and fro. Perhaps a duel by torchlight. Disin- clined for slumber, Stone resolved to investigate THE SNARE. 95 the mystery. Hastily lie assumed some clothing, and nightcapped as he was stole downstairs, across the parade, down the steps leading to the bowling- green, over the grassy space into the Sycamore Walk, where, secured from detection by the obscurity, he paused to recover breath. No tinkle of crossed swords — what could the flicker mean ? Presently a hurrying woman ran against him, and with a subdued cry endeavoured to escape. Seizing her wrist he dragged her to the light. "Mrs. Deborah!" he ejaculated in surprise. " What game of hide-and-seek is this ? An assig- nation at your time of life ! Fie for shame ! I'll tell my Lady Grizel of it to-morrow morning." cc Mr. Stone \" murmured the abigail, evidently distressed. Then, after a pause of hesitation, she cried in tragic accents of unnecessary loudness : " Oh, alack-a-day ! you could not tell on a poor woman. I might ask what you do here in a night- cap too ? What would Mr. Nash say to such inde- corum ? You seek your chamber, and I'll seek mine." " Speak lower ! I'll be sworn you are here to meet that sodden old rascal Ames. You tirewomen will swallow much to become parsons' ma dames. I saw him hovering around not half an hour ago." Mrs. Deborah started and looked nervously behind her. The light still flickered in the distance, sway- 96 LADY GRIZEL. ing up and down. She burst into a torrent of shrill lamentation. " What if I have looked up to dear Parson Ames, is there crime in that ? It is ill prying into other folks concerns." The light was moving nearer. " Hold your bawling. What is passing ? I will know." "Well then, Pve just been married/' cried Mrs. Deborah. " How cruel to force a body to blush. Good Mr. Ames, whom I am to honour and obey, wished it to be private, so I did as I was bid. Now you know all, so get you gone." Mrs. Deborah was evidently much moved by the event, for she was all of a twitter from excitement. Both were startled by a groan close beside them and a rustle of skirts. A female figure tottered past, whose mask fell at their feet as she groped by with outstretched fingers. A ray trickling through sparsely intersecting branches revealed the pale tear-stained features of the Lady Gladys. " What have I seen \" she moaned ; " what have I seen !" then hurried across the bowling-green towards the Abbey. Stone and Mrs. Deborah stared at each other open-mouthed. "So Lady Gladys stole down here to see you married and is jealous of the mulberry- visaged parson ? A likely story \" sneered the tutor. THE SNARE. 97 "As I hope for heaven I knew not of her presence/' stammered the waiting-woman. " 'Tis a bad business." She evidently spoke truth this thne, for her face was a. picture of bewilderment. The light was moving nearer. Deborah's cackle burst forth afresh, but Stone, with a curse, placed his hand before her mouth. u Get you gone ! oh, get you gone \" cried Deborah, disengaging* herself. " Beware of learn- ing secrets that are not your own, lest your curiosity fall back some day in buffets on your head. Lady Gladys a secret witness too ! Peradventure shall evil come of this night's work. Would I had never soiled my hands with it." " Hush, jay ! Hold thy peace \" muttered the other, pulling her backwards behind a tree. He was but just in time. Two figures moved past within a few paces hand in hand out into the broad moonlight, followed by another leaning on a crutch. " Lady Grizel and Mr. Bellasis or their ghosts \" murmured the tutor, thunderstruck. " A secret indeed \" Lady Grizel looked like a beauteous vision as she seemed to float in a silvery radiance. Her eyes with distended pupils stared straight before with- out sight in them. She moved as one in sleep. Her teeth were tightly set, her nostrils dilated : her breast heaved as the handsome young husband vol. 1. 7 9 8 LADY GRIZEL. alongside guided her steps. He seemed as troubled as she, for his lip quivered and he glanced uneasily from right to left. The newly-wedded pair passed on to commence their lives afresh — away into the sheen of the moon- beams under the starry firmament. Not a cloud was visible, not a shadow now upon their path. Was this a fair omen for the future, or did the crippled old woman's presence, tottering behind, seem a warning as of danger following ? Deborah broke away from Stone with an earnest entreaty that he would respect a secret surprised by chance, and sped after her mistress. " Lady Grizel married \" ejaculated Stone, re- covering from his astonishment. " The key of the enemy's citadel in my grasp ! This is more than chance. And simple Lady Gladys broken-hearted. What can these women see in the prim young popinjay ? What will his Grace of Hamilton say ? She must be mad. Who tied this precious knot ? The Bishop's jackal, or may I perish ! They'll repent to-morrow and want to burn the register. No, no ! not without my permission. Who goes there? — the waddling wicked crow ! Hist — Parson Ames ! 'Tis your old friend Stone." The parson had just extinguished a candle and was pulling it out of his hat, where it had been stuck that he might read the service by its sputter. He looked up and made a movement as though to THE SNARE. 99 escape, then, thinking better of it, approached timidly, for Ames was afraid of the tutor's growing credit with their Highnesses, and shared the common distrust of his dark countenance and joyless eyes. "A pretty wedding. What will the Princess think of it when I tell her ?" said Stone abruptly. "A man must make a nest for his old age," Ames suggested humbly ; " specially with a ne'er- do-well son who is no comfort. I would not do the job unless highly paid, for my conscience revolted against such a piece of work. I hold a promise of the parsonage in the upper town, and Madam Deborah hath said she'll be my wife. May my lady's marriage turn out better than my Lord Gowering's did, or Heaven help my soul ! For indeed his lordship was a mighty rake, and the poor thing much below" him in birth. Now the Honour- able Mr. Bellasis is my lady's equal, with quite the noble air. Gratitude for favours will place me at her command. If she repents the job " "Not so fast," interrupted Stone sternly. "How stands the register ?" " Noted in my memorandum-book as usual," returned the parson, surprised. "See; no, that was Newsam's, the scurvy rascal who ran away with the certificate, leaving a pint of wine unpaid, t mind me I had a noise of four hours for my money, nor shall forget his vile u 1 in example of the same. Here it is. No ! that was the man who said ioo LADY GRIZEL. he was a weaver of Bandyleg Walk, in the Borough. His lady, I remember, wore fine diamond earrings and a black velvet hat, which I thought strange. He was but half married, for he would pay no more than three-and-sixpence, and tried to steal the ring, because the lady changed her mind during the ceremony." "Your old Fleet-book?"