"It nearly maddens me. I feel as if I could do anything wicked and desperate." "Oh, hush, hush, dear," whispered Tryphie; and Lady Barmouth maundered on in tones asking for sympathy, as she set herself up as the suffering ill-used mother whom no one tried to comfort in her distress. "Saved you as I did from a life of misery," continued her ladyship, whimpering. "Oh, dear! oh, dear! how children strive to throw themselves away." Maude moaned, and held her hand to her side. "Are you ill, dear?" whispered Tryphie. "No, no," was the reply. "It is past now--past." "I shall be sorry when you are gone, Maude," said her father simply. "Oh, papa, papa," she cried, running to him and throwing her arms round his neck; for the tenderly-spoken sympathetic words brought the tears to her eyes. Then, unable to bear it, she turned to leave the room, but just then the door opened and the butler announced Sir Grantley Wilters. "Ah, how do!" he said in a high-pitched voice, saluting all in turn, and bending low over Maude's hand. "Thought I'd come soon, don't you know, _sans ceremonie_, eh, mamma!" he said with a smile to Lady Barmouth, and then gave his glass a screw, and brought it to bear on all present. "I am so glad," said her ladyship; "so is Maude; but don't take any notice," she whispered. "Poor child, she is _distrait_, and seems cold. So deeply attached to Lord Barmouth. Ready to break her heart at leaving him." "Yas, oh, yas," said Sir Grantley; and he took his seat beside Maude. "Tryphie," said Tom, "I can't help it. I must be off. This fellow makes me ill. May I go?" She gave him a nod of intelligence, and he said something about being ready for dinner, and left the room to go out, take a hansom, and bowl down to one of the clubs, where he was soon so busily engaged in a game of pool that he forgot all about the dinner. Very shortly after, Maude rose, bowed to Sir Grantley, and left the room with Tryphie, when the baronet crossed to Lady Barmouth's side, and was soon engaged in a most interesting conversation, whose murmur sent Lord Barmouth into a pleasant slumber, out of sight in a lounging chair, where he was quite forgotten, when her ladyship suggested that Sir Grantley should go with her to her boudoir to see the last new presents sent in for Maude. "And you would like to wash your hands, too, before dinner," said her ladyship. "We will not trouble about dressing to-night." Sir Grantley opened the door, and the old gentleman was left alone to wake up about a quarter of an hour later to find it was dark, and sit up rubbing his leg.