'So you thought Madge was the same as Nan. I could have told you different, if you had asked me. You thought you could find another girl like Nan. If you want to try, you'll have to step out. By the time you've found her, the Wandering Jew 'll be a fool compared to you. Girls like Nan don't grow on every blackberry bush.'
'I know that,' said Frank King, with a sigh.
Then Mr. Tom looked at his watch.
'I'm very hungry,' said he. 'Have you dined?'
'No, I have not. I was going to walk along to the club when you came in.'
'Come with me to the Waterloo. You see, something must be done about these two ninnies. He must get something to do; and set to work. The Baby has never been accustomed to live up a tree. She must have a proper house.'
Frank King got his coat and hat; and they both went out. He was thinking of his own affairs mostly—and of this singular sense of relief that seemed to permeate him; Mr. Tom, on the other hand, was discussing the various aspects of the elopement, more particularly with regard to the Court of Chancery. During dinner the two friends arrived at the conclusion that people generally would look upon the affair as a harmless, or even humorous, escapade; and that the Court, seeing that the thing was done, would allow the young people to go their way, with a suitable admonition.
This was not quite what happened, however. To begin with, there was a clamour of contention and advice among guardians and friends; there were anonymous appeals to the runaways in agony-columns; there were futile attempts made to pacify the Court of Chancery. All the Beresfords came up to town, except Nan, who remained to look after the Brighton house. The chief difficulty of the moment was to discover the whereabouts of Mr. John Hanbury. That gentleman was coy; and wanted to find out something of what was likely to happen to him if he emerged from his hiding-place. At last it was conveyed to him that he was only making matters worse; then he wrote from certain furnished apartments in a house on the south-west side of Regent's Park; finally, there was a series of business interviews, and it was arranged that on a particular day he should attend the Court and hear the decision of the Vice-Chancellor.
On that fateful morning, poor Madge, her pretty eyes all bedimmed with tears, and her lips tremulous, was with her sisters and mother in the rooms in Bruton Street; the gentlemen only attended the Court. Jack Hanbury was looking exceedingly nervous and pale. And indeed, when the case came on, and the Vice-chancellor began to make certain observations, even Mr. Tom, whose care for the future of his sister had now quite overcome all his scorn for that fellow Hanbury, grew somewhat alarmed. The Court did not all appear inclined to take the free-and-easy view of the matter that had been anticipated. The Vice-Chancellor's sentences, one after the other, seemed to become more and more severe, as he described the gross conduct and contempt of which this young man had been guilty. He deplored the condition of the law in England, which allowed persons to get married on the strength of false statements. He wound up his lecture, which had a conciseness and pertinence about it not often found in lectures, by the brief announcement that he should forthwith make an order committing Mr. John Hanbury to Holloway Prison.
There was an ominous silence for a brief second or so. Then the Court was addressed by Mr. Rupert—who was Mary Beresford's husband, and a fairly well-known Q.C.—who made a very humble and touching little appeal. He said he represented the relatives of the young lady; he was himself a near relative; and they were all inclined to beg his Lordship to take a merciful view of the case. They did not think the young man, though he had acted most improperly, was inspired by mercenary motives. He was now in Court; and was anxious to make the most profound apology. If his Lordship——