My Ladys Money | Page 3

meals in his
own room. His parentage gave him claims to these special favors; he
was by birth entitled to rank as a gentleman. His father had failed at a
time of commercial panic as a country banker, had paid a good
dividend, and had died in exile abroad a broken-hearted man. Robert
had tried to hold his place in the world, but adverse fortune kept him
down. Undeserved disaster followed him from one employment to
another, until he abandoned the struggle, bade a last farewell to the
pride of other days, and accepted the position considerately and

delicately offered to him in Lady Lydiard's house. He had now no near
relations living, and he had never made many friends. In the intervals
of occupation he led a lonely life in his little room. It was a matter of
secret wonder among the women in the servants' hall, considering his
personal advantages and the opportunities which must surely have been
thrown in his way, that he had never tempted fortune in the character of
a married man. Robert Moody entered into no explanations on that
subject. In his own sad and quiet way he continued to lead his own sad
and quiet life. The women all failing, from the handsome housekeeper
downward, to make the smallest impression on him, consoled
themselves by prophetic visions of his future relations with the sex, and
predicted vindictively that "his time would come."
"Well," said Lady Lydiard, "and what have you done?"
"Your Ladyship seemed to be anxious about the dog," Moody answered,
in the low tone which was habitual to him. "I went first to the
veterinary surgeon. He had been called away into the country; and--"
Lady Lydiard waved away the conclusion of the sentence with her hand.
"Never mind the surgeon. We must find somebody else. Where did you
go next?"
"To your Ladyship's lawyer. Mr. Troy wished me to say that he will
have the honor of waiting on you--"
"Pass over the lawyer, Moody. I want to know about the painter's
widow. Is it true that Mrs. Tollmidge and her family are left in helpless
poverty?"
"Not quite true, my Lady. I have seen the clergyman of the parish, who
takes an interest in the case--"
Lady Lydiard interrupted her steward for the third time. "Did you
mention my name?" she asked sharply.
"Certainly not, my Lady. I followed my instructions, and described you
as a benevolent person in search of cases of real distress. It is quite true

that Mr. Tollmidge has died, leaving nothing to his family. But the
widow has a little income of seventy pounds in her own right."
"Is that enough to live on, Moody?" her Ladyship asked.
"Enough, in this case, for the widow and her daughter," Moody
answered. "The difficulty is to pay the few debts left standing, and to
start the two sons in life. They are reported to be steady lads; and the
family is much respected in the neighborhood. The clergyman proposes
to get a few influential names to begin with, and to start a
subscription."
"No subscription!" protested Lady Lydiard. "Mr. Tollmidge was Lord
Lydiard's cousin; and Mrs. Tollmidge is related to his Lordship by
marriage. It would be degrading to my husband's memory to have the
begging-box sent round for his relations, no matter how distant they
may be. Cousins!" exclaimed her Ladyship, suddenly descending from
the lofty ranges of sentiment to the low. "I hate the very name of them!
A person who is near enough to me to be my relation and far enough
off from me to be my sweetheart, is a double-faced sort of person that I
don't like. Let's get back to the widow and her sons. How much do they
want?"
"A subscription of five hundred pounds, my Lady, would provide for
everything--if it could only be collected."
"It shall be collected, Moody! I will pay the subscription out of my own
purse." Having asserted herself in those noble terms, she spoilt the
effect of her own outburst of generosity by dropping to the sordid view
of the subject in her next sentence. "Five hundred pounds is a good bit
of money, though; isn't it, Moody?"
"It is, indeed, my Lady." Rich and generous as he knew his mistress to
be, her proposal to pay the whole subscription took the steward by
surprise. Lady Lydiard's quick perception instantly detected what was
passing in his mind.
"You don't quite understand my position in this matter," she said.

"When I read the newspaper notice of Mr. Tollmidge's death, I
searched among his Lordship's papers to see if they really were related.
I discovered some letters from Mr. Tollmidge, which showed me that
he and Lord Lydiard were cousins. One of those letters contains some
very painful