crossed to another garden seat, and sat down, putting his leg up in a comfortable position.
“There,” said Melton, earnestly. “You see we have both in our favour. Your father would not refuse.”
“Pray say no more now,” said the girl, gazing up in his face. “It is so new, it troubles me. Let us go on playing. Tom and Tryphie must be waiting.”
“I think not,” said Melton, with a quiet smile. “Maude, love, to-day I am so happy that it all seems too delightful to be real. Does it seem so to you?”
“I hardly know,” she replied, turning her eyes to his for a few moments, and then lowering them; “but somehow I feel sad with it and as if I were too happy for it to last.”
“Then you are happy?” he said, eagerly.
For answer she raised her eyes to his, and the game was resumed, for Tom and Tryphie came out of the shrubbery with the lost ball.
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed his lordship. “Tom’s a sad dog – a sad dog. I was just like him when I was young.”
He glanced to the right and left, and, seeing that he was unobserved, drew out a d’oyley from his coat-tail pocket, and from within picked out a slice of tongue and a piece of bread and butter, which he ate with great gusto, but not without turning his head from side to side like some ancient sparrow on the look-out for danger.
He wiped his fingers carefully upon his handkerchief, put away the d’oyley, and smiled to himself.
“That was nice – and refreshing,” he said. “I don’t suppose Robbins would miss it, and mention the fact to her ladyship. Ah,” he continued, raising his glass once more to his eye, “they are having a nice game there. Why, damme, they’re all courting like birds in spring-time. But Tom’s a sad dog. He, he, he! I was just like him. I was a sad dog too when I was young. I remember once when I was at Chiswick, at the Duke’s – he – he – he! with Lady Ann Gowerby, I told her there was not a flower in the whole show to compare with her two lips, and I kissed her behind the laurestinus – damme, that I did, and – and – he, he, he! the old woman – the countess – came and caught us.”
The old man chuckled over this recollection till he had to wipe the tears out of his eyes, and then he had a fresh look at the croquet players.
“Tom, you dog,” he said, “the old lady will come and catch you, and then, he, he, he! there’ll be a devil of a row, for she means my little Tryphie for some one else. Eh – eh – eh? What! Look there now, Maudey dropped her mallet, and Charley Melton picked it up and kissed her hand. Well, it’s nice,” he said, smacking his lips, “I was a devil of a fellow to squeeze and kiss the little girls’ hands when I was a youngster, but now – ”
He bent down to rub his gouty leg, and uttered a low groan as he continued —
“But they’re all going wrong, the silly young lambs; I wish Charley Melton was well off. Her ladyship will come over it all like a cloud directly, for I know – she said so – she means Tryphie for old Bellman, and Maudey for that Sir Grantley Wilter. Well, well, well, little gnats, enjoy your bit of sunshine while you can.”
“Now, Charley, are you going on?” shouted Tom in indignant tones, “two blue plays – two blue plays.”
“There’s a dog for you,” chuckled Lord Barmouth, “any one would think he had been busy over the game all the time instead of courting Tryphie.”
“Coming, Tom,” cried Melton; then turning to Maude he whispered, “Darling, you are mine, come what may – Maude, my love – my love!”
Their eyes met for a few moments, and from that look it was evident that the work so nearly completed on the morning of the wedding party had now received the finishing strokes, that the fresh young heart had placed itself in another’s keeping, and that henceforth Charley Melton was lord of someone’s will, and her duty only to obey.
“I ought to go and stop them,” said his lordship, sadly, “but making love without thinking of money used to be nice; but – hallo!” he exclaimed, as a cold nose touched his hand; and looking down there was the ugly massive face of a bull-dog gazing up into his. “Charley Melton’s dog, eh! Well, you’re a very ugly dog, but you seem to like me. Eh, eh!” he added, as, after a quiet wag of his tail, Joby smelt at his lordship’s tail pocket. “So you knew there was a little bit of game pie in there, did you!”
Joby uttered a low whine.
“Well, so there is, good dog,” said his lordship, chuckling as he felt in his other pocket, and brought out something very unpleasant-looking crushed up as it was in a piece of paper.
“I’m afraid I have been sitting upon it, my dog,” said his lordship, ruefully, “and the jelly and cold gravy have got into the crust. But you will not mind, will you?”
The dog gave a short bark, and evidently did not mind, for he and Lord Barmouth finished the last morsel of the game pie, and Joby ate the jelly-smeared paper afterwards as a kind of digestive pill.
“Ah,” said his lordship, patting the dog’s head. “I’m glad of that – good dog then – for I did not know what to do with that piece of paper. Eh, eh? whom have we here?” he continued, putting up his glasses. “Her ladyship and Sir Grantley Wilters. There, I told you young people that you were to enjoy your game as you could, for here comes the shadow.”
He alluded to Lady Barmouth, who, like the good general she was, had made her plans, which were rapidly approaching fruition.
Chapter Four.
Cloudy
Lord Barmouth was quite right, for the shadow was coming over the sunshiny portion of the young people’s life in the shape of her ladyship, who could in turn assume the rôle of Fate or Fury.
Amongst the company expected at the Hurst was Sir Grantley Wilters, and for his own reasons he had made a point of coming. He had arrived that morning, and, learning from Robbins the butler that Melton was there, had hastened to obtain a quiet interview with her ladyship.
“Nothing like taking time by the forelock, don’t you know,” he said to himself. “Old girl evidently wants me for a son-in-law, and that fellow Melton is a doosed sight too attentive. I can see through it all, though. Old girl keeps him here to make play and draw me on. Artful, doosed artful, don’t you know. But it don’t matter; suits my book. Time I did marry and settle down. Maude Diphoos is a doosed handsome girl, and’ll do me credit. I’ll propose at once.”
He mused thus in his bedroom, where he gave a few finishing touches to his morning toilet, and then descending to the drawing-room, he was most affectionately received by her ladyship, who took his arm, and they strolled out through the conservatory into the garden.
“Such delightful weather!” said her ladyship, leaning upon his arm more heavily than was pleasant to a man in tight boots, and rather weak upon his legs.
“Charming,” said Sir Grantley. “By the way, Lady Barmouth, we are very great friends, you and I, don’t you know.”
“Indeed, yes,” said her ladyship. “I always feel disposed to call you by your Christian name – Grantley – ”
“Do,” said the baronet, having a little struggle with his eye-glass – a new one of rather smaller diameter than the last –
