"Look here, mother," cried Tom. "Charley Melton is my friend, and he is here at your invitation. Let me tell you this: if you insult him, if I don't go bang out on the croquet lawn and kick Wilters. Damme, that I will." "He's a brave dashing young fellow, my son Tom," said his lordship to himself. "I wish I dared--" "Barmouth," moaned her ladyship, "help me to the house. My son, to whom I should look for support, turns upon his own mother. Alas, that I should live to see such a day!" "Yes, my dear," said Lord Barmouth, in a troubled way, as he offered the lady his arm. "Tom, my boy, don't speak so rudely to your mamma," he continued, looking back, and they moved slowly towards the open drawing-room window. As her ladyship left the garden, Joby came slowly up from under the laurels, and laid his head on Tom's knee, for that gentleman had thrown himself on a garden seat. "Hallo, Joby," he said "you here? I tell you what, old man, if you would go and stick your teeth into Wilters' calf--Bah! he hasn't got a calf!--into his leg, and give him hydrophobia, you'd be doing your master a good turn." From that hour a gloom came over the scene. Lady Barmouth was scrupulously polite, but Charley Melton remarked a change. There were no more rides out with Maude; no more pleasant _tete-a-tetes_: all was smiles carefully iced, and he turned at last to Tom for an explanation. "I can't understand it," he said; "a few days ago my suit seemed to find favour in her eyes; now her ladyship seems to ridicule the very idea of my pretentions." "Yes," said Tom savagely; and he bit his cigar right in half. "But why, in heaven's name?" "Heard you were poor." "Well, I never pretended otherwise." "No," said Tom, snappishly; "but I suppose some one else did." "Who?" cried Melton, angrily. "Shan't tell," cried Tom; "but mind your eye, my boy, or she'll throw you over." "She shall not," cried Melton, firmly, "for though there is no formal engagement, I hold to your sister, whom I love with all my heart." That evening Charley Melton was called away to see his father, who had been taken seriously ill. "So very sorry," said her ladyship, icily. "But these calls must be answered. Poor Mr Melton, I am so grieved. Maude, my darling, Sir Grantley is waiting to play that game of chess with you." The consequence was, that Charley Melton's farewell to Maude was spoken with eyes alone, and he left the house feeling that he was doomed never to enter it again as a staying guest, while the enemy was in the field ready to sap and mine his dearest hopes. CHAPTER FIVE. BACK IN TOWN--THE DEMON. Lady Maude Diphoos sat in her dressing-room in Portland Place with her long brown hair let down and spread all around her like some beautiful garment designed by nature to hide her soft white bust and arms, which were crossed before her as she gazed in the long dressing-glass draped with pink muslin.