Tom smiled sadly as he gazed at his father; and then he rang the bell, which was responded to promptly by Robbins.
“Send up and ask her ladyship if she can see us. Then put a change of linen in one valise for his lordship and myself.”
The butler bowed, and returned at the end of five minutes to say that her ladyship was sitting up in her dressing-room if they would come.
Her ladyship looked really ill as she sat there, tended by Tryphie and Justine, and the latter moved towards the door.
“You need not go, Justine,” said Tom, quietly, and the Frenchwoman’s eyes sparkled at this token of confidence as she resumed her seat at her ladyship’s side.
Tom marked the change in his mother, and he was ready to condole with her, but she swept his kind intentions to the winds by exclaiming—
“Oh, Tom, I can never show my face in society again. Such a brilliant match too. My heart is broken.”
“Poor old lady!” said Tom, bursting into a sarcastic fit in his rage at her selfishness and utter disregard of the fate of her child. “But we want some money to go in search.”
“Money?” cried her ladyship. “Search? Not a penny. The wicked creature. And to-morrow. Such a brilliant match. Oh, that wicked girl!”
“No, no,” said Tom, “it was to be to-day. But don’t fret, mia cara madre, as we say in Italian. It is only a change. A fine handsome son-in-law, Italian too. You ought to be proud of him.”