“Thank you, Tom,” whispered Tryphie, as he went to the window where she stood. “I did not think you could stand up so bravely for your sister, and be so true.”
“Didn’t you?” said Tom, sulkily. “It’s a good job I can be true, for I don’t believe there’s a spark of truth anywhere else in the world. If Charley had had the spirit of a fly, he’d have come and walked her off. Hang it all! I’m mad and savage. Pretty sort of a husband you’ve got for her. Pretty sort of a brother-in-law to have! I’m ashamed of him. I’m only a little one, and nothing to boast of, but he’s no better than a pantaloon. Truth indeed! There isn’t such a thing in the world.”
“Oh, Tom!” whispered Tryphie.
“More there isn’t,” cried Tom. “Pretty brother-in-law indeed!”
“Maude,” exclaimed her ladyship, “I think you might have a word to say on behalf of your intended husband.”
The girl glanced at her in a stony way, and turned once more to the window, where she had been looking out with Tryphie, listening with aching heart to the encounter between mother and son.
“Such a brilliant match as I have made,” cried her ladyship, harping on her old string. “And such opposition as I have from the girl who owes me so much.”
“Indeed, mamma, I have yielded everything. You are having your own way entirely,” said Maude passionately.
“Have I not saved you from throwing yourself away upon a disreputable creature?” sobbed her ladyship.
“Tryphie,” whispered Maude, “I cannot bear this. It is dreadful. I feel as if I should go mad.”