better to remain. Two ladies whom she knew
slightly were seated at the card-table nearest her, and there might
perhaps be a chance of joining them when the game was over. For another
quartette was waiting till the table was free.

"You look charming," Sir Maxwell began; "but why no colour to relieve
this whiteness? I vow I feel as if I, a poor mortal, full of sins and
frailties, was not worthy to touch so angelic a creature."

Griselda was one of those women who do not soften and melt, nor even get
confused, under flattery. It has the very opposite effect, and she said
in a low, but decided voice:

"There are topics less distasteful to me than personalities, sir;
perhaps you may select one."

"Ah! you are cruel, I see. Well, I will only touch one more personality.
Why--why do I see no choice exotics in your hand, or on your breast? the
colour would have enhanced your beauty, and relieved my heart of a
burden."

Griselda made no reply to this, but, rising with the dignity she knew so
well how to command, she walked towards the open door of the next room,
and said:

"Mr. Travers, will you be so good as to take me to the ball-room that I
may rejoin Lady Betty Longueville?"

The young man's face betrayed his pleasure at the request made to him,
and the discomfiture of his rival--rather I should say the hoped-for
discomfiture, for Sir Maxwell Danby was not the man to show that he had
the worst in any encounter. He was at Griselda's side in an instant, and
was walking, or rather I should say ambling, towards Lady Betty, and,
ignoring Mr. Travers's presence, said:

"Your ladyship's fair ward is weary, nay, pining for your company, my
lady."

Lady Betty shrugged her shoulders, and said:

"I vow, sir, she has enough of my company, and I of hers! Now, Griselda,
do not look so mightily affronted; it is the truth. Let us all go to
supper; and make up a pleasant little party. You won't refuse, Mr.
Travers, I am sure."

"With all my heart I accede to your plan, Lady Betty," Sir Maxwell said,
"though I see your late partner is darting shafts of angry jealousy at
me from his dark eyes."

So saying, Sir Maxwell led the way with Lady Betty on his arm, and
Griselda and Mr. Travers followed, but not before Griselda caught the
words:

"Upon my honour, she acts youth to perfection; but she is forty-five if
she is a day. Did you ever behold such airs and graces?"

Griselda felt her cheek burn with shame and indignation also