Then her ladyship declared that it was "so foolish," and that she was "quite well now"; and other speeches good and bad were made. And at last the bridegroom's carriage was at the door; the bride was handed in; there was the usual cheering; white satin slippers and showers of rice were thrown, and the carriage rolled away. For Lady Barmouth had achieved one of the objects of her life--a brilliant match for her elder daughter--leaving her free to execute her plans for Maude. All had been _en regle_ so far: the hall was filled with company; the sound of wheels was still to be heard rolling down the broad thoroughfare: when "I say, look out," whispered Tom to his friend. "There she goes." It was a coarse way of expressing himself, but "there" "she" did go--to wit her ladyship. Sir Grantley Wilters, whom she hoped some day to call son, was close at hand. It was quite time for her maternal feelings to assert themselves again, and they did, for she sank heavily into the nearest arms. They were not her husband's but those of the baronet, most rotten reeds upon which a lady might lean. The result was that as Lady Barmouth gave way, Sir Grantley did the same, and both would have fallen heavily but for Doctor Todd, who seized the baronet in time, and with extraneous help her ladyship was placed in the porter's great chair. "Salts, and a little air: she has only fainted," said the doctor. By all the rules of family etiquette as observed in the best society, Maude should have run to her mother's side, and made one in a pathetic group: but just at the same moment she encountered Charley Melton's eyes, let her own rest upon them as a singular thrill ran through her, till she wrenched them away and encountered Sir Grantley Wilters' eye-glass, and directly after she recalled a promise she had made to herself. "Open that door a little," said the doctor--"ajar. Some fresh air." Luigi Malsano was back in the street, and the organ struck up once more, "'Tis hard to give the hand where the heart can never be," while at the same moment a dismal howl came from the doorstep and a head was thrust in, to be followed by a body rather out of proportion. It was only Charley Melton's ugly bull-dog Joby, who had followed his master to the house, and been waiting on step and in area for the said master to come. He had several times made an attempt to enter, but had been driven back by Robbins the butler, and thought of going back to his master's chambers, but at last the opportunity had come, and he too found his way in, for Luigi's music nearly drove him mad. Meanwhile the Resident's young wife was being carried towards Charing Cross _en route_ for Brindisi--the Suez Canal--India--right away out of the country, and out of this story, leaving the stage clear for her sister's important scene. CHAPTER THREE. DOWN IN THE COUNTRY--THE ANGEL. "I'm afraid you are not serious, Mr Melton," said Lady Barmouth; shaking her head at him sadly.