Lady Maude's Mania

Chapter Twenty Seven.

An Encounter

Sunny Italy, the home of music.

The sun was shining as it can shine in Naples, but the courtyard of the Hotel di Sevril was pleasantly shady, for there was a piazza all round, and in the centre a cool and sparkling fountain played in its marble basin, while evergreen trees spread dark tracery on the white pavement.

In one of the shadiest and coolest spots sat Maude, daughter of The Earl of Barmouth, looking exceedingly pretty, though there was a certain languid air, undoubtedly caused by the warmth of the climate, which seemed to make her listless and disposed to neglect the work which lay in her lap, and lean back in the lounging chair, which creaked sharply at every movement.

“I do wish he would come back,” she said softly, and as she spoke her eyes lit up with an intense look of happiness, and a sweet smile played about her lips. “But he will not leave me alone long.”

Here she made a pretence of working, but ceased directly.

“I wonder what they are all doing at home. How dear Tryphie is, and papa, and darling Tom. Will Tom marry Tryphie? Yes, he is so determined, he will be sure to. Heigho! I shall be so glad when we are forgiven, and Tom and he are friends. I can feel sure about papa, but Tom can be so stern and sharp.”

There was no allusion made to Lady Barmouth, for she seemed to have dropped out of her daughter’s thoughts, but Sir Grantley Wilters was remembered with a shudder, which was cleared away by the coming of a smiling waiter.

“Would the signore and signora dine at the table-d’hôte?”

Maude hesitated for a few moments, moved by monetary considerations, and then said – “Yes. Has the signore returned?”

“No, signora,” said the waiter, and he bowed and went back into the old palazzo.

“I wanted to go to a cheap hotel,” said Maude, dreamily, and with a happy smile upon her face – somewhat inane, it is true, for it was the young married lady’s smile – “but he said his cara bella sposa must have everything of the best. Oh, my darling! my darling! how he loves me. Poor? What is poverty? I grow more proud of him every day. What do we want with society? Ah, how I hate it. Give me poverty and love. Oh, come back, my darling, come back. That’s what my heart keeps beating whenever he is away.”

It was certainly a very pleasant kind of poverty, in a sunny land with a delicious view of the bay, and a good table-d’hôte; and a loving husband; and as Maude, the young wife, dreamed and adored her husband in his absence, she smiled and showed her white teeth till a sound of voices made her start and listen.

“Oh, how I do tremble every time any one fresh comes to the hotel. I always fancy it is Sir Grantley Wilters come to fetch me back. But he dare not try to claim me now, for I am another’s. But what are we to do when the money is all gone?”

She thought dreamily, but in a most untroubled fashion.

“I can sing,” she said at last, “so can he, and he plays admirably. Ah, well, there’s time enough to think of that when the money is all gone. Let me be happy now after all that weary misery, but I must write home. There, I’ll go and do it now before he returns. – Oh!”

She had risen to go, but sank back trembling and half-fainting in her seat as a pallid, weary-looking, washed-out elderly gentleman tottered out of the house into the piazza, and dropped into a chair just in front of the door.

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” he sighed, as he let his walking-stick fall clattering down. “How tired out I do feel.”

“Oh!” sighed Maude, as she saw that her only means of exit was barred.

“I with – I wish – damme, I wish I was back at home with my legs under my own table, and – and – and a good glass of port before me. Hang that Robbins, a confounded scoundrel; I – I – I know I shall finish by breaking his head. Four days before I left England I asked him to put one single bottle of the ’20 port in my dressing-room with the cork drawn, and he threw her ladyship at my head, and, damme, I didn’t get a drop. And my own port – a whole bin of it – my own port – my own port. Hah! how comfortable a chair is when you’re tired. He was a good fellow who first invented chairs.”

He shuffled himself down, and lay right back.

“Shall I never find my little girl?” he sighed.

“What shall I do?” murmured Maude. “Why isn’t he here?”

“I’m not fit to come hunting organ men all over the continent,” continued the old gentleman; “but Tom insisted, you see. Oh, my poor leg! It’s worse here than it was in town.”

He rubbed his leg slowly, and Maude made a movement as if to go to his side, but something seemed to hold her back.

“Tom is sure to be near,” she thought, “and they must not meet yet. Tom would not forgive him. If I could only get away and warn him.”

“Why don’t Tom come and order something to eat? I’m starving. Oh, dear: London to Paris – Paris to Baden – Baden to Nice – Nice to Genoa, and now on here to Naples. Poor Tom, he seems to grow more furious the more we don’t find them. Oh, hang the girl!” he added aloud.

Maude started, and had hard work to suppress a sob.

“They’ll separate us; they’ll drag me away,” she sighed.

“No, no, no, I will not say that,” cried Lord Barmouth, aloud. “I am hungry, and it makes me cross. My poor leg! I should like to find my poor darling,” he said, piteously. “Bless her! bless her! she was a good girl to me.”

“Oh! oh! oh!” sobbed Maude, hysterically, for she could contain herself no longer.

“Eh! eh! eh!” ejaculated Lord Barmouth. “What the deuce! A lady in distress. Doosed fine woman too,” he added, raising his glass as he tottered to his feet. “I was a devil of a fellow among the ladies when I was a youngster. Can I, madam – suppose she don’t understand English – can I, madam, be of any service? What, Maudey, my darling? Is it you at last?”

“Oh, papa! papa!”

There was a burst of sobbing and embracing, ended by the old man seating himself in Maude’s chair, and the girl sinking at his feet.

“And – and – and I’ve – I’ve found you at last then, my dear, or have you found me? Is – is it really you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, my own dear darling father,” sobbed Maude.

“Yes, it is – it is,” he cried, fondling her and drawing her to his breast, till he seemed to recollect something.

“But, damme – damme – damme – ”

“Oh, don’t – don’t swear at me, papa darling!”

“But – but I must, my dear. Here have I been searching all over Europe for you, and now I have found you.”

“Kiss me, papa dear,” sobbed Maude.

“Yes, yes, my darling, and I am so glad to see you again; but what a devil of a wicked girl you have been to bolt.”

“Oh, but, papa darling, I couldn’t – I couldn’t marry that man.”

“Well, well, well,” chuckled Lord Barmouth, “he was a miserable screw for a girl like you. But I – I hear that he’s going to shoot him first time he sees him.”

“Oh, papa! Then they must never meet.”

“But – but I’m not saying what I meant to say – all I’d got ready for you, Maudey. How dare you disgrace your family like that?”

“Don’t – don’t blame me, papa darling. You don’t know what I suffered before I consented to go.”

“But, you know – ”

“Oh, papa, don’t blame your poor girl, who loves you so very dearly.”

“But – but it’s such a doose of a come down, my darling. It’s – it’s – it’s ten times worse than any case I know.”

“Papa, for shame!” cried Maude, indignantly.

“Now – now – now, don’t you begin to bully me, Maudey my dear. I get so much of that at home.”

“Then you will forgive me, dear?” said Maude, nestling up to the poor weak old man.

“But – but I oughtn’t, Maudey, I oughtn’t, you know,” he said, caressing her.

“But you will, dear, and you’ll come and stay with us often. We are so happy.”

“Are so – so happy!” said the old man, with a look of perplexity on his countenance.

“Yes, dear. He loves me so, and – oh, papa, I do love him. You will come? Never mind what mamma and Tom say.”

“But Tom is like a madman about it, Maudey. He says he’ll have you back if he dies for it.”

“Oh, papa!”

“Yes, my pet, he’s in a devil of a rage, and it comes out dreadfully every time he grows tired.”

“Then they must not meet either.”

“No, my dear, I suppose it would be best not,” said the old man; “but – but do you know, Maudey, I feel as if I was between those two confounded stools in the proverb, and – and I know I shall come to the ground. But – but where – where did you get married?”

“At a little church, papa dear, close to Holborn.”

“Of course,” groaned the old man to himself. “Close to Saffron Hill, I suppose.”

“I don’t know the street, papa dear.”

“That’s right, my pet. I mean that’s wrong. I – I – really, Maudey my pet, I’m so upset with the travelling, and now with finding you, that I – I hardly know what I ought to say.”

“Say you forgive your own little girl, dear, and that you will love my own darling husband as if he were your son.”

“But – but, Maudey, my dear, I don’t feel as if I could. You see when a poor man like that – I wish Tom would come.”

“Tom!” cried Maude, springing up and turning pale.

“Yes, yes, he’s coming to join me, my pet. Would you like to see him now, or – or – or wait a bit till he isn’t so furious?”

“Oh, papa dear, I dare not meet him. They would quarrel, and what shall I do? We must escape – ”

“But are you staying in this hotel?”

“Yes, papa dear.”

“That’s – that’s doosed awkward, my pet, for I shouldn’t like there to be a row.”

“No, no, pa dear. Don’t say a word to Tom, or there will be a horrible scene.”

“But, my pet, we’ve come on purpose to find you, and now you’re going away.”

“Only for a time, dear,” cried Maude, embracing the old man frantically. “Don’t, don’t tell Tom.”

“But I feel as if I must, my darling. Tom is so angry, and we’ve spent such a lot of money trying to find you. It would have paid for no end of good dinners at the club.”

“Yes, yes, but we will escape directly, and Tom will never know.”

“But what’s the good of my finding you, my darling, if you are going to bolt again directly?”

“Only to wait till Tom has cooled down, dear.”

“Well, well, I suppose I must promise.”

“My own darling papa,” cried Maude, kissing him. “I’ll write to you soon, dear; and as soon as Tom is quiet and has forgiven us, we shall all be as happy as the day is long.”

She kissed him again quickly on either cheek, and then, before he could even make up his mind to stay her, she had hurried into the hotel, leaving her father scratching his head and setting his dark wig all awry.

Chapter Twenty Eight.

The Reinforcement

“This – this is a pretty devil of a state of affairs,” muttered the old man. “How can a man in my position make friends with a confounded fellow who goes about turning a handle in the street? The girl’s mad – mad as can be, and – Ah, Tom, my boy.”

“Hallo, governor,” said that personage, sharply. “What’s the matter?”

“Doosed tired, my boy.”

“Why, you look as if you’d seen the chap who drew what’s-his-name’s curtains in the dead of night.”

“Do I – do I, my boy?” stammered the old man; and then to himself, “I feel sure he’ll find me out.”

“Get up, and you shall have a feed, and a glass of good honest wine. That’s the thing to brace you up, dad.”

“Yes – yes, my son. I – I feel – feel as if I’d give anything for a glass of good wine.”

“Come along.”

“I know he’ll find me out,” said his lordship to himself.

“I say, gov’nor,” cried Tom, “here’s a go.”

“Have – have you found them,” said the old man, starting.

“Wait a bit. Perhaps I have. But I say, I’ve found telegrams waiting to say that the old lady is on the way to meet us here.”

“Here, Tom, my boy?”

“Yes, gov’nor, here, in Naples.”

“But – but don’t you think we had better go on at once?”

“What with you so tired?” said Tom with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I – I don’t think I’m quite so tired as I was, Tom, my boy,” said the old man nervously. “After a glass of wine or two, I – I think I could manage to go on again.”

“But don’t you understand? The mater is coming here with Tryphie and Justine.”

“Then – then I think we had better get on, Tom, my boy – away from here. Her ladyship would hinder us, and stop us from finding Maude. Let’s go on to Rome or Constantinople, only let’s be off at once.”

Tom laughed silently.

“No, father,” he said, “I think we’ll go no further. I’m going to have a thorough good look round, and from hints I have heard, I think we are once more on their track; but if they are not here we’ll go back home, for I’m sick of all this journeying. Poor girl, she has chosen her lot.”

“Yes – yes, Tom, my boy,” said the old man dolefully.

“And I’ve done my duty as a brother to try and find her.”

“Yes, Tom, my boy, you have – you have.”

“Some day she’ll wake up out of her mad dream, and come back to us, and then, no matter what is said, she must find a home.”

“Of course, my boy, of course.”

“Poor girl! It’s all our fault, governor. If we had been firm she might have married Charley Melton.”

“Eh,” said Lord Barmouth, “Charley Melton? Yes, my boy, I wish she had. I – I wonder whether she has gone,” thought the old man. “Oh dear me, I’m very tired.”

“Did you speak, gov’nor?” said Tom.

“Yes, my boy, I said I was very tired.”

“Then come along and let’s feed. We’ll have a bottle of that red wine, and enjoy ourselves till the old lady comes, and then, governor – ”

“You think we shan’t enjoy ourselves any more, Tom?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, my boy, I hardly know what to say. Her ladyship is very particular, but then, you see, my boy, she studies my health more than I do and I’ve no doubt it is quite right.”

“I dare say it is, dad, but come along.”

“Yes, my boy, yes,” said Lord Barmouth, taking his son’s arm; “but really, Tom, I begin to wish I was back within reach of my club.

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” he added sotto voce, “I wonder whether they have gone.”

“What say, governor?”

“Nothing, my boy, nothing. Talking to myself.”

“Bad habit, gov’nor.”

“Yes, my boy, yes,” he said in acquiescence. But bad as was the habit, he kept on, as he told himself that he hoped Maudey had gone, and yet he hoped she had not; and he kept on getting deeper and deeper into a bog of bewilderment, till he found himself seated at a little table opposite his son, listening to the gurgling of wine in a glass, and that brought him back from his maze of troubled thought at once.

“What – what could have induced her ladyship to come out here?” he said, with a piteous expression upon his countenance.

“Old game,” said Tom gruffly – “to look after us.”

“I – I – I should be sorry to speak disrespectfully of her ladyship,” said Lord Barmouth, now under the influence of his third glass of wine, “but – but I’m afraid there’ll be no more peace now, Tom, my boy.”

At that moment a waiter entered.

“Visitors for milor,” he said.

“Here they are, governor. Now comes the tug of war.”

For at that moment her ladyship entered and tottered to a seat, wiping her brow, and making signs to Tryphie, who half supported her, for her salts. That young lady had to turn to Justine, who was supposed to be carrying the bag, but who in turn had to take it from Robbins, who looked as if he had been in a bath, and had dressed himself without a prior reference to a towel. For his fat face was covered with drops and runlets, and his grey hair hung wetly upon his brow. The smelling-bottle was, however, found, and her ladyship took a long inhalation, and said, “Hah!”

Chapter Twenty Nine.

On the Brink

“I’ve found you then at last,” said her ladyship, recovering fast. “Robbins, go and tell that wretched Italian porter creature I will not pay him another penny. No, say soldi, or scudi, which you like. It’s a gross imposition.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Justine,” continued her ladyship, “you understand the language?”

“No, my lady, not Italian.”

“Then speak to him in French, it will impress the man. Go and see that Robbins is not imposed upon. Now, Robbins, mind and be firm. This is not London.”

“No, milady.”

“And don’t lose any more luggage.”

“No, my lady,” said Robbins; and he left the room with Justine.

“Luggage, indeed,” he growled; “all this row about a sandwich-box, and she left it in the rack herself.”

“Nevaire mind her, Rob – bain,” said Justine; “take him coolly.”

“Take him coolly. Yes, ma’amselle, I can the governor; but her ladyship.”

“Ah, yais, she is a womans. But see me, I do not complain; I am drag all ovaire Europe by her ladyship, who have rob me of my loaf till I return and see him once again. I do not complain.”

In the coffee-room her ladyship button-holed Lord Barmouth directly, and then took Tom’s seat at the table, while that gentleman grasped Tryphie’s hand.

“Oh, Tom,” she said, “what news?”

“You’ve both come,” he said shortly. “Is that all you have to say?”

“All? Ah, Tom dear, if you only knew how much.”

This was accompanied by so pleasant a pressure of the hand that Tom’s acidity began to evaporate in gas, and he turned to help his father, who was giving way under a vigorous attack. For as he approached the table her ladyship exclaimed, with a warning motion of her index finger —

“Now, Barmouth, your gout is much worse.”

“Ye-yes, my dear,” said his lordship, “I’m – I’m afraid it is.”

“Of course! You’ve been taking port wine recklessly.”

“No, no, really, my dear: the port is so horribly bad that – ”

“Then you’ve had Burgundy.”

“Well – well, yes, a little, my dear.”

“I knew it! What’s this?” cried her ladyship, seizing the bottle on the table. “Burgundy, of course.”

“No, Barolo,” said Tom. “Regular physic for gout, isn’t it, gov’nor. Take another glass.”

“Shall I, my boy?” said the old man, hesitating.

“Of course,” cried Tom, pouring one out, which his lordship eagerly drank.

“Tom!” ejaculated her ladyship, whose breath seemed to be taken away by the daring displayed.

“Physic,” said Tom, sharply.

“Have you secured rooms for us?”

“Of course not. Only just knew you were coming.”

“Then ring for the landlord; I shall now continue the search myself. I have been much to blame in leaving it in other hands so long. But a weak woman – ”

“Who is?” said Tom, innocently.

“I am, sir,” replied her ladyship. “I was not aware, when I entrusted the search to my husband and son, that it was to be made an excuse for a pleasant and expensive continental tour, with no results whatever but the shrinking of a good balance at the bank, and a fit of gout?”

“Oh, bosh!” ejaculated Tom.

“No more gadding about; no more Burgundy and strong drinks. I mean to find that wretched girl myself; the authorities shall intervene, and I will do my duty as a mother.”

“What shall you do?”

“Place her in a madhouse as sure as I stand here.”

“Then you will not,” said Tom, “for you’re sitting.”

“Reserve your ribald jestings, sir, till we return to town.”

“All right,” cried Tom; “then let me speak in a downright manner, my dear mother. You can do just as you please, but I am now on the scent, which I shall keep to myself; and I tell you this, old lady, I will not have Maude – whatever her faults – ill-used.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Lord Barmouth; but then he had had four glasses of wine.

“Barmouth!”

“Yes– yes, my dear.”

“Oh, what language, and to a mother!”

“There, there, stop that,” cried Tom. “We are not at home, but at an hotel, and the people won’t understand tragic amateur acting.”

“Tryphie, my child,” cried her ladyship, after giving her son an annihilating look, “come with me to our own apartments. Lord Barmouth, summon the waiter, or no, come with me. Tryphie, you can ring and order déjeuner, I wish to speak to these people in the hotel. I think I can obtain some information here.”

Lord Barmouth cast a despairing look at his son, and followed her ladyship into the hall, while Tom had just seized the opportunity, and Tryphie at the same moment, to embrace her in spite of a certain amount of resistance, when there was a loud “Oh!” and he turned to find that Charley Melton had entered the room.

“You here, Charley! Why, my dear old chap!”

They shook hands warmly, Tryphie following suit, and the pretty little face flushed with pleasure and confusion.

“Why, Charley, you here!” cried Tom. “Stop, I know; you need not say a word.”

“You know?”

“Yes. How long have you been on the continent? Stop, you need not answer. Ever since my sister eloped.”

The young man bowed his head.

“And you’ve been after her all the time.”

Melton bowed again.

“Then it was doosed good of you, Charley; but I don’t see what we are to do, old man. It’s very horrible for all of us, but I can’t see what is to be done. I came out with the intention of dragging her home, but if the poor girl is infatuated with the fellow our cause is lost.”