“I’m afraid you are not serious, Mr Melton,” said Lady Barmouth; shaking her head at him sadly.
“Serious, Lady Barmouth; indeed I am,” said Charley Melton, who was Viscount Diphoos’ guest down at the Hurst, Lord Barmouth’s seat in Sussex; “and as to personal matters, my income—”
“Hush, hush! you bad, wicked boy,” exclaimed her ladyship; “what do you take me for? Just as if the union of two young hearts was to be made a question of hard cash and settlements, and such mean, wretched, sordid matters. I beg you will never utter a word to me again about such things. They are shocking to me.”
“I am very glad to hear you say so, Lady Barmouth,” said Melton, smiling frankly in her face, as in a gentle heaving billow style, she leaned, upon his arm, and undulated softly and tapped his fingers with her fan.
“I like to think of my darling Maude as a sweet innocent girl in whose presence such a sordid thing as money ought never to be mentioned. There, there, there, they are calling you from the lawn, Charley Melton; go to them and play and be happy while you have your youth and high spirits. How I envy you all sometimes?”
“Your ladyship has made me very happy,” said Melton, flushing slightly.
Lady Maude's Mania
George Manville Fenn • Papersense
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