HOW MAURICE TELLS HIS MOTHER OF THE GREAT FIASCO; AND HOW SHE
RECEIVES THE NEWS.
The guests have all gone! The morning train had swallowed up the
Hescotts, and the eleven o'clock had disposed of the rest. Only the
Dowager Lady Rylton and Margaret still remain.
The latter has decided on going by the evening train and taking Tita
with her, deeming it best to separate husband and wife for a little
while, until the calamity be overpast for a few weeks, at all
events. As for Tessie, she had come with a determination to linger
on until Christmas with her son and his wife, though asked for three
weeks only; and it is her son's pleasing task to be obliged now to
explain to her why and wherefore she must go back at once to the old
home--to The Place--to the old home partially saved from ruin by his
unhappy marriage, and now doomed to a sure destruction because of
the loss of the fortune that had been the primary motive in the
making of that marriage.
Rylton got through the telling of his lamentable tale more easily
than he could have supposed possible. Whilst walking up the stairs
to his mother's room, he had tried to compose certain forms of
speech that might let the whole affair "down easy," to quote from
the modern English language, but had failed utterly. Yet, when on
the spot, he had run glibly through it all--coldly--almost without
feeling. And his mother had heard him as coldly, until she learned
all hope was at an end--as far as Tita's thousands were concerned.
Then she gave way to hysterics!
And even now, when, by the help of a wet sponge and a maid and a
bottle of champagne, he has pulled her through, sufficient at all
events to be able to talk rationally, she is still in the very
lowest depths of despair.
"And to think you should have sacrificed yourself for a mere
'person' like that! A little"--sob--"wretched _nobody_. Oh! if your
father could only see you now! A creature of no family, no manners,
no----"
"Who are you talking of, mother? My father?"
"If you can be frivolous at this moment, Maurice, you can be
frivolous for ever," says his mother, weeping (presumably) behind
her little lace rag, her voice like a dagger.
"I'm far from that," says Maurice, flinging himself into a chair.
"But the fact is, mother, let us leave Tita out of this affair. I
object to hearing her--er--criticised by you--or anyone."
Tessie weeps afresh.
"The soul of honour," breathes she, apostrophizing the ceiling. "But
I cannot let you, Maurice, be so deceived by a mere swindler such as
she is. Do you for a moment imagine--ah yes!" throwing up her hands
and plainly admiring Maurice with great fervour--"you probably do;
you have a soul, Maurice, a great soul, inherited from _me!_ But I
shall not permit that little vulgar fraud of a girl to demoralize
it. Of _course_ she knew all about her uncle's speculations--and
married you gladly, knowing what the end would be. Oh! my poor boy!"
Lady Rylton retires again behind her lace rag.
"That will do," says Maurice curtly.
It seems almost funny to him that he, who has been condemning Tita
all the night and morning in his heart, can now be so violently
angry with another fellow-creature for decrying her.
"Of course, I know. I understand," says Tessie, still weeping, "it
is always so painful to know that one has been thoroughly taken in.
No wonder you can't listen even to your own mother with common
patience. I excuse you, Maurice. I often had to excuse your dear
father. Both you and he were a little weak--a little noble,
perhaps--but well, you required someone to look after you. And
I--poor, _poor_ I--what could I do?" Tessie shakes her head
mournfully from side to side. "And as for this miserable little
deception----"
"Look here, mother----"
"Oh! I know, I know. It is not the nice thing to do, of course, but
alone with one's only son one may waive a point and condole with him
on the abominable qualities of the woman he has chosen to be his
wife---- Dear Maurice, you should be careful. Didn't you _see_ that
footstool? I quite thought you kicked it. And her laugh. Do you know
it used to hurt me?"
"Not until after our marriage, however," says Rylton, who is now a
little strung.
"Oh! no wonder you reproach me," says his mother. "I shall for ever
reproach myself. _Such_ a person--without a penny--to fling herself
into your arms."
"Ah! she had a penny then," says Maurice.
"Then? Yes! Do you think I should have countenanced your marriage
otherwise?"
"My dear mother, of course not. I know you too well for that."
His irony is thrown away upon Tessie, who is not equal to these
drags upon her intellect, and as a fact Rylton is scarcely listening
to her; his whole soul is in a turmoil. He scarcely knows what he
wants or what he does not want--whom he loves or hates. Only
Tita--Tita is always before him; and as hate is stronger than love,
as some folk have it (though they lie), he believes that all his
thoughts grow with a cruel persistence of detestation towards the
small, ill-tempered child whom he has married.
"At all events _she_ knew what she was about," says Tessie, flinging
down her handkerchief and speaking with a touch of viciousness. "She
knew perfectly how she stood with her wretched uncle before she
married you. No doubt they arranged it between them. She was fully
aware of the state of her finances, and so was the uncle. So glad
that miserable old person is out of the way for ever, of making
young men of family marry young women of no family, who have not
even money to recommend them. I must say your--_I shudder_ to utter
the word, Maurice--your wife--is as thoroughly dishonest a person
as----" Tessie pauses, and casts a furtive glance at him. "After
all, there may be a hope for you, Maurice. That cousin! So
_prononcée_ the whole thing--so unmistakable. And once a divorce was
established----"
She never knew afterwards what really happened. Perhaps, after all,
nothing happened--nothing material; but what she does know if that
Maurice is standing before her, looking like a demon.
"D----n it!" says he. His temper is _very_ bad sometimes. "Can't you
_see_ that I won't have a word said against her?"