"Dolly! Dolly! Dolly! There, do go to your room," cried Maude impatiently, and the poor girl went sobbing away, leaving her mistress to sit thinking pensively of what she had said. Lady Maude Diphoos should have continued dressing, but she sat down by her mirror with her head resting upon her hand thinking very deeply of the weak, love-sick girl who had just left the room. Her thoughts were strange, and it seemed to her that so soon as she began to picture the bluff, manly, Saxon countenance of Charley Melton, the dark-eyed, black-bearded face of the Italian leered at her over his shoulder, and so surely as she made an effort to drive away the illusion, the face disappeared from one side to start out again upon the other. So constant was this to the droning of the organ far below that Maude shivered, and at last started up, feeling more ready now to sympathise with the girl than to blame as she hurriedly dressed, and prepared to go downstairs to join her ladyship in her afternoon drive. "Are you aware, Maude, that I have been waiting for you some time?" "No, mamma. The carriage has not yet come." "That has nothing whatever to do with it," said her ladyship. "You have kept me waiting. And by the way, Maude, I must request that you do not return Mr Melton's very particular bows. I observed that you did yesterday in the Park, while directly afterwards, when Sir Grantley Wilters passed, you turned your head the other way." "Really, mamma, I--" "That will do, child, I am your mother." "The carriage is at the door, my lady," said Robbins, entering the room; and soon afterwards the ladies descended to enter the barouche and enjoy the air, "gravel grinding," in the regular slow procession by the side of the Serpentine, where it was not long before Maude caught sight of Charley Melton, with his ugly bull-dog by his legs. He bowed, but Lady Barmouth cut him dead. He bowed again--this time to Maude, who cut him alive, for her piteous look cut him to the heart; and as the carriage passed on the remark the young man made concerning her ladyship was certainly neither refined nor in the best of taste. CHAPTER SIX. NOT AT HOME. For Charley Melton's father was better, hence his presence in town, where he had sped as soon as he found that the Diphoos family had left the Hurst, where Lady Barmouth hatched matrimony. That cut in the Park was unpleasant, but nothing daunted in his determination not to be thrown over, the young man made his way next day to Portland Place, eager, anxious, and wondering whether Maude would be firm, or allow herself to be influenced by her ladyship to his downfall. Robbins unclosed the door at the great family mansion looking very severe and uncompromising. So stern was his countenance, and so stiff the bristles on his head, that any one with bribery in his heart would have felt that silver would be an insult. "Not at home." He left his card, and called next day. "Not at home."