Lady Maude's Mania Part 34

"What the--"

"Devil" his lordship was going to say, for something struck him on the top of his _gibus_ hat.

"Copper," said Tom, as the object fell with a pat on the pavement.

"Come along."

"Yes, halfpence," whispered his lordship, nervously, as he tottered on; "but I do wish Maudey wouldn't be so free with her money to those vagabonds. That scoundrel makes quite an income out of our house."

"Never mind, gov'nor, it won't last long. Poor girl, the game's nearly up. Now for what the Yankees call a good square meal."

"With a drop of port, Tom, my boy."

"Yes; you shall have a whole bottle. Barker's, Jermyn Street," he cried to the cabman, who drew up; and then as the cab drove off--"There, gov'nor, we'll forget home troubles for one night."

"Yes, my boy, we will," said the old man, eagerly.

"I do wish Tryphie wouldn't be so hard again," sighed Tom, "and just too when she was growing so soft. Sympathy for Maudey, I suppose."

"What say, Tom, my boy?"

"Thinking aloud, gov'nor."

"What about, Tom?"

"Charley Melton, gov'nor. He's a regular flat."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

SAD PROCEEDINGS.

All the servants remarked that "the poor dear" from the very first bore up like a suffering martyr, and then discoursed upon the vanity of human hopes; and Mrs Downes, who was of a pious turn of mind, and went miles "per 'bus" on Sundays to be present at religious services in theatres, said that it was a "vale of tears," and wiped one tear out of her eye, looked at it, wrapped it up very carefully in her handkerchief, and put it in her pocket, as if fully aware of the fact that it was a sympathetic pearl.

"They might well call it the last day," sighed the same lady, for to her mind it was as if heaven and earth had come together.

"She is _bete_, this woman," said Mademoiselle Justine, who had descended for hot water; and she stood and purred softly to herself, and looked so like a cat that she only needed to have squatted down upon a chair, and begun licking her trim dress, to have completed the likeness.

It was the last day of Maude's girlhood; the next was to see her what the fashionable gossips would call a happy wife. The previous fortnight had been spent in a whirl of busy doings. Dressmakers had been to and fro, milliners consulted, Justine and Dolly had been kept up late at night to see to packing, and so anxious was her ladyship that her child should look her best that she insisted upon Maude visiting her dentist, and seeing Dr Todd again and again. Maude tried to expostulate, but her ladyship was inexorable, and spared herself no pains. The consumption of spirits of red lavender was startling, but she bore up wonderfully; went with that dear Sir Grantley to the coachmaker's in Long Acre, and herself selected the new brougham that was one of the baronet's wedding presents, and declared the horses which she twice over went into the stable to see were "loves."

Then, too, she aided in the re-decorating of her daughter's new home; in fact, spared herself in no way to bring about the happy event, while "that wretched Lord Barmouth prowled about the house doing nothing but thinking of gluttony." In fact, she found him one day sitting behind the curtains in the drawing-room spreading potted tongue upon an Abernethy biscuit, with a pearl paper-knife, when he ought to have been helping her, for in these days his lordship's wolf, which constantly bade him feed, was unusually active.

Perhaps it was a natural instinct similar to that which directs wild animals to seek certain places at times to lick salt. At all events, tongue had a wonderfully attractive effect upon Lord Barmouth: he would steal or buy tongue in any shape to eat surrept.i.tiously, and evidently from a natural effort to provide h.o.m.oeopathically against that from which he suffered so much.

Tom gave her ladyship a great deal of trouble by his opposition to the very last, but his efforts were in vain.

"I might perhaps have done more, Maude," he said, "but, hang it all, what more can I do? A fellow can't hardly say his soul's his own in this house. I've tried all I can to get the governor to take the lead, but the old woman sits upon him so heavily that he hasn't a chance."

Maude only wept silently and laid her head upon his shoulder.

"There, there, little girl," he said, "cheer up. It's fashion, and you mustn't mind. Old Wilters is very soft after all, and you must take a leaf out of the old girl's book, and serve him out for it all. Hang me, if I were you, if I wouldn't make him pay dearly for all this."

"Hush, Tom, dear Tom. Pray, pray don't talk about it. Tom, dear, when I am gone--"

"There, I say, hang it all, don't talk as if you were going to pop off."

"Listen to me, Tom dear," said Maude, firmly. "I say when I am gone, be as kind as you can to poor papa. I may not be able to speak to you again."

"All right," said Tom; "but I say, you will try and hold up."

"Yes, Tom dear, yes."

"That's right, old girl, make the best of a bad bargain. You won't be much worse off than Diana. Fashionable martyrs both of you."

"Yes, Tom dear."

"And you will try to be happy?"

"Yes, dear, I'm going to be happy. But you'll think the best of me, dear, and take care of poor papa?"

"Of course I will. The old man will be better off when you are gone.

Her majesty won't be so stingy when she has got you both off her hands, and married to rich men."

"No, dear. I will try and cheer up."

"That's right, old girl. I wish some one would make me happy." This was accompanied by a look at Tryphie, who was in the room.

"I don't see how you can expect any lady to make you happy, Tom," said the little girl, sharply. "A gentleman who worships two idols, cigars and billiards, cannot have room for a third love."

"There she goes," said Tom, disconsolately. "Maude, I've told her I loved her a score of times, and she pooh-poohs me, and looks down upon me."

"Of course," said Tryphie, pertly. "Is it not settled that I am to be Mrs Captain Bellman?"

"Mrs Captain Bellman!" cried Tom, savagely. "Look here, Tryphie, I thought we had settled him, and now you bring him up again like an evil spirit in a play. I tell you what it is, if somebody does not shoot that great moustached scoundrel, I will."

"What, such a handsome, gentlemanly man?" said Tryphie, sarcastically.

"Handsome? Gentlemanly? The narrow-minded scoundrel! Look here, Tryphie, a man may do worse things than smoke cigars and play billiards.

Damme, I can say I never caused a woman the heartache, or deceived my friend."

"Are you sure, Tom?" said Tryphie, looking up at him with a melancholy droll expression upon her countenance.

"Tryphie!" he cried, running to her, and catching her hand.

"Get along, you silly boy," she cried, laughing; and he turned away with a look of annoyance, but Maude caught his arm.

"Tom, dear," she said, laying her head upon his shoulder, "come what may, you will always think kindly of me."