Lady Maude sat in her dressing-room once more with her back hair down,
listening to the strains of Luigi's organ as it discoursed a delicious
waltz, while Dolly Preen, who was rapidly developing a vicious-looking
mouth, brushed away at the beautiful golden cascade, which rippled quite
to the ground. The lady's head swerved softly to the rhythm of the
music, and it proved infectious; for though Dolly knew little of
dancing, the music was pleasant to her soul, and she swayed her head and
brushed softly with an accentuated beat at the beginning of every bar.
Just in the middle of the most sostenuto strain, and just as the
ivory-backed brush was descending low, its long bristles dividing the
golden threads, which crackled again in the warm air of that gloriously
sunshiny day, there was a sharp tap at the dressing-room, and her
ladyship entered.
"Ah, just in time," she exclaimed, raising her gold-rimmed eye-glass.
"I wanted to see your hair, Maude."
"My hair, mamma?"
"Yes, child. Let me see; you went to Monsieur Launay's yesterday?"
"Yes, mamma."
"I have been telling Justine that I shall not go to any further expense
over it. I have just sent him a cheque for his account, and your head
looks so much better that I think we may be satisfied now."
Maude's cheeks turned scarlet, and so did her temple and neck, but her
beautiful hair made a magnificent veil, and hid her confusion from her
ladyship's view as she examined the parting, drew it away from the
temples and poked it about just at the poll.
"Don't you think, mamma, I had better keep on for a little longer?"
"No," said her ladyship, peremptorily. "Your hair is in beautiful
condition. I grudged paying that man; but he has saved your hair, and
he deserves what he has received. He is very clever."
"I should like to continue a little longer, mamma."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," said her ladyship tartly. "Your hair
is perfect."
"I must go and say that I am not about to continue his course of
treatment."
"No, you must not. I shall write to Monsieur Launay myself and tell
him. I cannot afford these expenses, the demands for money are
dreadful. I am always spending. Go away, Preen."
"Yes, my lady," said the little maid, and she "made a face" as she left
the room.
"The preparations for your marriage will be more than I can afford."
"Oh, mamma, must that go on?" cried Maude.
"Now, now, now, Maude, no more of that, please. I will not have it.
Silence. The expenses will be terrible, and I shall be very glad when
it is over, and so will you be, and I must say I am pleased to find you
are coming more to your senses. Oh, that odious wretch. Go away, do!"
Her ladyship crossed to the window and shut it down with a crash,
deadening the sound of Luigi's minstrelsy as she returned to her
daughter's side.
"Really the expenses of our establishment are maddening. I have had the
wine merchant's bill in this morning, and it is outrageous. The man
must be a swindler. Case after case of dry champagne charged for that I
cannot remember having. But I must see into it at once; and, yes: I am
quite satisfied there is no need for you to go to the hairdresser's any
more."
Her ladyship gave a quick glance round the room--a glance that took in
everything, the furniture, the davenport at which her daughter wrote,
the books she had been reading, even to the tiny cobweb left by a
careless housemaid in one corner, and then in a very dissatisfied frame
of mind she descended to write to Mr Launay, leaving her daughter
looking speechless with misery, and gazing wildly at the closed window.
"Shall I finish your hair, ma'am?" said a voice which made her start,
for she had not heard the door opened.
"If you like, Dolly," said Maude despairingly; and with a curiously
furtive glance at her mistress, caused by her wonder what her ladyship
had said, the girl went on with her interrupted work till she had done;
and then when certain hooks had been persuaded to enter certain eyes,
and as many buttons to pass through their button-holes, as she could
obtain no further orders, Dolly left the room, and Maude walked to the
window, opened it, and sat down with her elbow on the sill to listen to
the distant strains of music which came from the top end of the place
near Park Crescent, and as she listened the tears stole down her cheeks,
for the fiat must be obeyed. There would be no more pleasant visits to
the coiffeur's--those little trips which relieved the monotony of her
life so deliciously, and made her better able to bear the coming of Sir
Grantley Wilters.
No more--no more! she was to be a prisoner now till she was to be decked
out with garlands, and sent like a lamb to the sacrifice, and served up
with mint sauce, for Sir Grantley was going to be very rich. Life was
becoming an empty void with nothing to fill it. No Charley Melton
allowed to visit; no assistant to arrange her hair--and Monsieur Hector
Launay's aide was so very, very nice.
Maude's sad musings were interrupted by the door being opened quickly,
and the head of Justine thrust in.
"Oh, mademoiselle--_chere_ miladi, have you heard?"
"Yes, Justine. It is all over."
"All ovaire, miladi? _c'est atroce_, but not ovaire; I will take counsel
wiz M'sieu Hector, and all will be well."
"Justine! Justine!"
"Coming, milady; I descend directly. Have a good heart, still yet, and
all shall be well. _Oui_, milady, I come."
Justine descended, and Maude melted into tears.