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Updated: June 12, 2025
It was his habit now a new habit came as a blessing of Providence to Mr. Musselwhite on passing into the drawing-room after dinner, to glance towards a certain corner, and, after slow, undecided "tackings," to settle in that direction. There sat Barbara Denyer. Her study at present was one of the less-known works of Silvio Pellico, and as Mr.
Denyer shed tears, and embraced her daughter as if they had always been on the fondest terms. "Go up and tell Maddy!" But, as not seldom befalls, happiness inspired Barbara with a delicacy of feeling to which as a rule she was a stranger. "I don't like to, mamma. It seems cruel." "But you can't help it, my dear; and she must know tomorrow if not to-day." So before long Barbara went upstairs.
Marsh had reflected anxiously during this speech. He let a moment of silence pass; then said gravely: "I cannot consent to do anything of the kind, Mrs. Denyer." "Oh yes, you can and will, Clifford. Silly boy, don't you see that in this way you secure yourself the future just suited to your talents? As an artist you will never make your way; that is certain.
Denyer avowed his hope the hope ever-retreating, though sometimes it had seemed within reach of being able some day to find rest for the sole of his foot, to settle down with his family and enjoy a quiet close of life. Possibly this undertaking at Vera Cruz would be his last exile; he explained it in detail, and dwelt on its promising aspects. Madeline felt compassionate and remorseful.
She was a large woman in amethyst satin, and a gauze turban with a diamond aigrette, a splendid jewel, which would not have misbeseemed the head-gear of an Indian prince. Lady Denyer was one of the last women who wore a turban, and that Oriental head-dress became her bold and massive features.
Her father looked up apprehensively, deprecating defence of himself at the cost of family discord. But he was powerless to prevent the gathering storm. Mrs. Denyer gazed sternly at her recalcitrant daughter, and at length discharged upon the girl's head all the wrath with which this situation inspired her. Barbara took her mother's side. Zillah wept and sobbed words of reconciliation.
They had been settled at Hampstead three weeks, when information reached them that Mr. Denyer was dead of yellow fever. On the day when this news came, the house received no less important a visitor than Mr. Musselwhite. Long ago, Mrs.
Old Talmash, the grandfather, shot his valet in a paroxysm of delirium tremens, said Colonel Madison. 'She's a splendid woman, and she won't flinch. I'd rather back her than bet against her. 'Lady Maulevrier! announced the groom of the chambers; and Lady Denyer moved at least three paces forward to meet her guest.
You know me well enough, Barbara, and you Maddy, and you, Zillah, my child, to be sure that I wouldn't deny you anything it was in my power to give. But fortune's gone against me this long time. I shall have to make a new start, new efforts. I'm going out to Vera Cruz again." He once more wiped his forehead, and took the opportunity to look askance at Mrs. Denyer, dubiously, half reproachfully.
Travis had not now to learn for the first time of the family's superior attainments; it had been Mrs. Denyer's care to impress upon her that they were no ordinary letters of lodgings. Indeed, said Mrs. Denyer, they were rather depaysees' here in England; they had so long been accustomed to the larger intellectual atmosphere of Continental centres.
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