“Ruin HIM—ruin Charles—and the fond mother grew despondent, very despondent, so despondent indeed that unkind neighbours said she was mad. They were wrong; the despondency was only a reaction, she suddenly cheered up, all was apparently forgiven and forgotten. Charles and Phyllis were invited to spend Christmas at Thurlow.
“They went, very naturally they went—Charles overjoyed at the prospect of displaying the Purvis estate to his charming wife.
“His mother welcomed Phyllis effusively; she made her feel thoroughly at home; she expressed an ardent desire to see her in her bridal robes.
“Phyllis consented—what else could she do? She had been a Gaiety girl! she had lived for admiration.
“Arrayed in her wedding garments she entered Mrs. Purvis’s room, surprising the old lady in the act of lighting an oil lamp—a rather ‘shaky’ old lamp filled to the brim with oil.
“Phyllis was radiant; her sole thought was of the sensation she would create at the coming Christmas festivities. Had she been less absorbed she might have noticed how the hand trembled that raised the lamp; she might even have been on her guard.
“But vanity as well as love is blind. Phyllis accepted Mrs. Purvis’s profuse expressions of admiration and delight in good faith; they were, of course, both genuine and natural; they were, moreover, her due. The bride was intent on examining herself in the mirror; her mother-in-law approached her from behind, and, bending suddenly forward, deliberately hurled the lamp on to the train of her dress. There was a loud crash—an explosion—and the wedding dress was on fire.
“No one was at hand to render assistance, Charles and the servants having been slyly inveigled out of the house, and the only response to her screams were loud peals of laughter from her now wholly insane mother-in-law.
“It was small wonder that the poor girl lost her head, and, craving water, cried in her agony, ‘Bring me fire, oh! bring me fire!’