The Disentanglers

nd, oh, she is quite wrapped up in him. I have heard of your wonderful cures, Mr. Merton, I mean successes, in cases whic

as if he were being treated like a quack doctor, to whom people

s. Mallory, in fact, was what is derisively styled 'Early Victorian'-'Middle' would have been, historically, more accurate. Her religion was mildly Evangelical; she had been brought up on the Memoirs of the Fairchild Family, by Mrs. Sherwood, tempered by Miss Yonge and the Waverley Novels. On these principles she had trained her family. The result was that her sons had

nder the will of a maternal uncle. Merton had met the young lady, who looked like a portrait of her mother in youth. He knew that Miss Malory, now 'wrapped up in' her betrothed lover, would, in a few years, be equally absorbed in 'her boys.' She was pretty, bl

bours-he really is very attractive, and very attentive-and it was not till we came to London for the season that I heard the stories about him. Some of them have been pointed out to me, in print, in the dreadful French newspapers, others came to me in anonymous letters. As far as a mother may, I tried to warn Matilda, but there are

said Merton, 'and no doubt a pure

having left France after the Revocation of the Edict of Nancy

f Vidame, "the Vidame de

e, has romantic ideas. He is as much French as English, more I am afraid. The wickedness of that country! And I fear it has affected ours. Even now-I am not a scandal

Brown-Smith was one of his references or Lady Patronesses; he knew her well, and

eed,' said Mrs. Mal

atured nonsense,' said Merton warm

in the same set; we have exch

on, after thinking awhile, 'may I take your case into my consideration-the marriage is not till October, you say, we are in June-and I may ask for a later interview? Of course you shall be made fully aware of e

t it has cost me many a wakeful hour. You will e

end on your own energy, and

that good may come,' sa

while consenting, so far, did not seem quite certain th

shed reputation of his Association, consoled her. 'We must yield where we innocently may,' she assured herself, 'to the changes of the times. Lest one good order' (and ah, how good the Early Victorian

in his mind, and consulted Brad

umerable fountains, could not but know (however preoccupied) that Mrs. Brown-Smith was being amused. Her laughter 'rang merry and loud,' as the poet says, though not a word of her whispered conversation was audible. Conservatories (in novels) are dangerous places fo

to her a page of closely printed matter. '9.17 P.M., 9.50 P.M.' read Mrs. Brown-Smith aloud; 'it gives plenty of time

famous for his mastery of time-tables, and

ion soap' (Mr. Brown-Smith was absent in America, in the interests of that soap of his which is familiar to all), 'and he is in the be

ow how busy you are-he

efore I sleep the sleep

nevolence,'

rd of his bragging, the monster. He has talked abo

ook at Merton, and a sound which, from less perfect lips, might have been described as a suppressed giggle, Mrs. Brown-Smith rose, then turnin

*

Soap, on the other hand, is the result of human artifice, and is certainly advertised with more of emphasis and of ingenuity than of delicacy. But, by her own line of descent, Mrs. Brown-Smith came from a Scottish house of ancient standing, historically renowned for its assassins, traitors, and time-servers. This partly washed out the stain of soap. Again, Mrs. Malory had heard the name of Mrs. Brown-Smith tak

shire, and warmly congratulated Mrs. Malory on the event approaching in her family. The eye of maternal suspicion could detect nothing amiss. Thanks mainly to Mrs. Brown-Smith, the girls found the season an earthly Paradise: and Mrs. Malory saw much more of the world than she had ev

ghed Mrs. Malory. 'I have observed nothing to just

t is safety,'

ow

the most delicate and peri

a Lain will be s

ry. 'And if there is any tr

ect to temptatio

atilda; she takes after my dear husband's family, though

so fortunate as de la Lain! And if it did, would his conduct no

things with-so young a man as you-not

raw at once,

at! I am not really at all happy

ay of argument; suppose that

s of a pure affection. She would be hard, indeed, to convince that anything was wrong,

that she suffered so

life to a man who could ca

r, and I happen to know that her view of the man about whom we are talking is exactly your own. More I could say as to her reasons and motives, but we entirely decline to touch on the past or to

rown-Smith would be very much

ss Malory, and that her advice would be excelle

age,' said Mrs. Malory; 'but I should never forgive myself if I neglected an

affair. He fell back on his reserves; and Mrs. Brown-Smith later gave an ac

o lead others into temptation. "If you think that man, de la Lain's temptation is to drag my father

"this is indeed honourable candour. No

nce, and, if he has the impudence to give me the opportunity, I will!" And then I tol

d Merton. 'But w

as wormed out, or invented, some story of a Vidameship, or whatever it is, hereditary in the female line, a

of make her see that she must bre

ed, but said that her daughter

are to go

with the widow's knowledge, I am to do as I please till the girl's eyes a

u will be in no dange

m say,' answered Mrs. Brown-Smith

ial society. Susan Malory had been discreetly sent away on a visit. None of the men of the family had arrived. There was a party of local neighbours,

te of all other entertainment, h

of the visitor, and later, played billiards with her, a game at which Matilda did not excel. At family prayers next morning (the service was conducted by Mrs. Malory) the Vidame appeared with a white rosebud in his buttonhole, Mrs. Brown-Smith wearing its twin sister. He took her to the stream in the park where she fished, Matilda following in a drooping manner. The Vidame was much occupied in extracting the flies from the hair of Mrs. Brown-Smith, in which they were frequently entangled. After lunch

y wondered that Mrs. Malory had asked so dangerous a woman to the house: they marvelled that she seemed quite radiant and devoted to her lively visit

in private. But Matilda declined to be jealous; they were only old friends, she said, these

s a saint, says so in her Domestic Outpourings' (religious memoirs privately printed i

eglec

r brothers, and who would not greatly have ent

was, so gracious and yielding, in her overt demeanour, but, alas, poor Matilda's pillow was often wet with her tears. She w

idame-and she detested him more deeply every day-the more her heart bled for

her belief in that m

e least suspicious, the most loyal. And I am doing my worst to make her hate me. Oh, I can

y. 'The better you think of poor Matilda-and she

party was expected to arrive on the 11th. Mrs. Brown-Smith dried her tea

f to Matilda, in fact Mrs. Brown-Smith had insisted on such dissimulation, as absolutely necessary at this juncture of affairs. So Matilda bloomed again, like a rose th

ame strayed with Matilda in the park, Mrs. Brown-S

hat I am, have only to sacrifice my character, and all my things. But I am

mean?' asked

ve pointed out to him that my best plan is to pretend to you that I am going to meet my husband, who really arrives at Wilkington from Liverpool by the 9.17, though the Vidame thinks that is an invention of mine. So, you see, I leave without any secrecy, or fuss, or luggage, and, when my husband comes here, he will find me flown, and will have to console himself with my luggage and jewels. He-this Frenchified beast, I mean-has written a note for your daug

be an untruth,'

ays?' asked Mrs. Brown-Smith, rather tartly. 'Y

id Mrs. Malory, 'and she wants dreadf

ood. The cook must have a teleg

th a damp telegraph envelope. The Vidame opened it, and handed it to Matilda. His presence at Paris was instantly demanded. The Vidame was desolated, but his absence could not be for more than fi

at blows nobody good. I will drive over with the Vidame and astonish my

of the summons by telegram calling the cook to her moribund mother. '

this; it is a cataclysm. There will be plenty of room for the cook as well as

easure.' To elope from a hospitable roof, with a married lady, accompanied by her maid, might be an act not without precedent. But that a cook

so excellent,' he said, 'des

achman whipped up the horses, Matilda waved her kerchief from the porch, the guilty lovers drove away. Presently Mrs. Malory r

and a veil, insisted on perambulating the platform, buying the whole of Mr. Hall Caine's works as far as they exist in sixpenny editions. Bells rang, porters stationed themselves in a line, like fielders, a train arrived,

n such a night, did you, Johnnie?'

Tiny,' said the short ge

of Venice, Mr. Brown-Smith turned to his val

from Upwold,' said Mrs. Brown-Smith. 'Let me introduce hi

lp Mrs. Andrews, the cook, to fi

Brown-Smith, 'but I fear we can

er, Mr. Brown-Smith and his w

the shooting party, they took leave of their hos

r showed to the girl the note which he had left with her maid. The absence and the silence of the lover were enough. Matilda never kn

the Vidame de la Lain and Miss Malory will not take place.' Why it did n

tore the Royal House, the White Flag, the Lilies, the children of St. Louis. At Mrs. Brown-Smith's place in Perthshire, in the

love's first

! Lady Jardine is now wrapped up in her baby b