in the old china bowl that stood in thenarrow hall.
But the outside world knew nothing of the agonies of mind endured by thetwo principal occupants of that house--of the nights of sleepless horrorpassed by Claire as she knelt and prayed for guidance, and of the hoursduring which the Master of the Ceremonies sat alone, staring blanklybefore him as if at some scene which he was ever witnessing, and whichseemed to wither him, mind and body, at one stroke.
For that fortnight, save at the inquest, father and daughter had notmet, but passed their time in their rooms. But the time was gliding on,and they had to meet--the question occurring to each--how was it to be?
"I must leave it to chance," thought the Master of the Ceremonies, witha shiver; and after a fierce struggle to master the agony he felt, heknew that in future he must lead two lives. So putting on his mask, heone morning walked down to the breakfast-room, and took his accustomedplace.
Outwardly he seemed perfectly calm, and, save that the lines about histemples and the corners of his lips seemed deeper, he was littlechanged; but as he walked he was conscious of a tremulous feeling in theknees, and even when seated, that the curious palsied sensation went on.
On the previous night Morton had come in from a secret fishingexcursion, to find the house dark and still, and he had stood with hishands in his pockets hesitating as to whether he should go and take alesson in smoking with Isaac in the pantry, steal down to the beach, orcreep upstairs.
He finally decided on the latter course, and going up to the top of thehouse on tiptoe, he tapped softly at Claire's bedroom door.
It was opened directly by his sister, who had evidently just risen froman old dimity-covered easy-chair. She was in a long whitedressing-gown, and, seen by the light of the one tallow candle on thetable, she looked so pale and ghastly that the lad uttered anejaculation and caught hold of her thin, cold hands.
"Claire!--Sis!"
They were the first warm words of sympathy she had heard since thathorrible night; and in a moment the icy horror upon her face broke up,her lips quivered, and, throwing her arms around her brother's neck, sheburst into such a passion of hysterical sobbing that, as he held her tohis breast, he grew alarmed.
He had stepped into the little white room where the flower screen stoodout against the night sky, and as the door swung to, he had felt Clairesinking upon her knees, and imitating her action, he had held her therefor some time till the attitude grew irksome, and then sank lower tillhe was seated on the carpet, holding his sister half-reclining acrosshis breast.
"Oh! don't--don't, Claire--Sis," he whispered from time to time, as hekissed the quivering lips, and strove in his boyish way to soothe her."Sis dear, you'll give yourself such a jolly headache. Oh, I say,what's the good of crying like that?"
For answer she only clung the tighter, the pent-up agony escaping in hertears, though she kissed him passionately again and again, and nestledto his breast.
"You'll make yourself ill, you know," he whispered. "I say, don't. Thedad's ill, and you'll upset him more."
Still she sobbed on and wept, the outburst saving her from some moreterrible mental strain.
"I wanted to come and comfort you," he said. "I did not know you'd goon like this."
She could not tell him that he was comforting her; that she had beentossed by a horrible life-storm that threatened to wreck her reason, andthat when she had lain longing for the sympathy of the sister who nowkept away, saying it was too horrible to come there now, she had foundno life-buoy to which to cling. And now her younger brother had come--the elder forbidden the house--and the intensity of the relief she feltwas extreme.
"Here, I can't stand this," he said at last, almost roughly. "I shallgo down and send Ike for the doctor."
She clung to him in an agony of dread lest he should go, and her sobsgrew less frequent.
"Come, that's better," he said, and he went on in his rough boyishselfishness, talking of his troubles and ignoring those of others,unconsciously strengthening Claire, as he awakened her to a sense of theduties she owed him, and giving her mental force for the terriblemeeting and struggle that was to come.
For she dared not think. She shrank from mentally arguing out those twoquestions of duty--to society and to her father.
Was she to speak and tell all she knew?
Was she to be silent?
All she could do was to shrink within herself, and try to makeeverything pass out of her thoughts while she was sinking into the icychains of idiocy.
But now, when she had been giving up completely, and at times gazing outto sea with horrible thoughts assailing her, and suggestions liketemptations to seek for oblivion as the only escape from the agony shesuffered, the life-raft had reached her hands, and she clung to it withall the tenacity of one mentally drowning fast.
There was something soothing in the very sound of her brother's roughvoice speaking in a hoarse whisper; and his selfish repinings over thepetty discomforts he had suffered came like words of comfort and rest.
"It has been so jolly blank and miserable downstairs," he went on as heheld her, and involuntarily rocked himself to and fro. "Ike and Elizahave been always gossiping at the back and sneaking out to take dinneror tea or supper with somebody's servants, so as to palaver about what'sgone on here."
A pause.
"There's been scarcely anything to eat. I've been half-starved."
"Oh, Morton, my poor boy!"
Those were the first words Claire had uttered since the inquest, andthey were followed by a fresh burst of sobs.
"Oh, come, come. Do leave off," he cried pettishly. "I say it's allvery well for the old man to growl at me for fishing, but if I hadn'tgone catching dabs and a little conger or two, I should have beenstarved."
She raised her face and kissed him. Some one else was suffering, andher woman's instinct to help was beginning to work.
"What do you think I did, Sis? Oh, you don't know. I'd been up toBurnett's to see May, but the beggars had sneaked off and gone toLondon. Just like Franky Sneerums and wax-doll May. Pretty sort of asister to keep away when we're in trouble."
"Oh, don't, my dear boy," whispered Claire in a choking voice.
"Oh, yes, I shall. They're ashamed of me and of all of us. Just as ifwe could help the old girl being killed here."
A horrible spasm ran through Claire.
"Don't jump like that, stupid," said Morton roughly. "You didn't killher."
"Hush! hush!"
"No, I shan't hush. It'll do you good to talk and hear what people say,my pretty old darling Sis. There, there hush-a-bye, baby. Cuddle upclose, and let's comfort you. What's the matter now?"
Claire had struggled up, with her hands upon his shoulders, and wasgazing wildly into his eyes.
"What--what do people say?" she panted.
"Be still, little goose--no; pretty little white pigeon," he said, moresoftly, as he tried to draw her towards him.
"What--do they say?" she cried, in a hoarse whisper, and she trembledviolently.
"Why, that it is a jolly good job the old woman is dead, for she was nouse to anyone."
Claire groaned as she yielded once more to his embrace.
"Fisherman Dick says--I say, he is a close old nut there's no gettinganything out of him!--says he don't see that people like Lady Teigne areany use in the world."
"Morton!"
"Oh, it's all right. I'm only telling you what he said. He says toothat the chap who did it--I say, don't kick out like that, Sis. Yes, Ishall go on: I'm doing you good. Fisherman Dick, and Mrs Miggles too,said that I ought to try and rouse you up, and I'm doing it. You'reever so much better already. Why, your hands were like dabs when I cameup, and now they are nice and warm."
She caressed his cheek with them, and he kissed her as she laid her headon his shoulder.
"Dick Miggles said that the diamonds would never do the chap any goodwho stole 'em."
Once more that hysterical start, but the boy only clasped his sistermor
e tightly, and went on:
"Dick says he never knew anyone prosper who robbed or murdered, or didanything wrong, except those who smuggled. I say, Sis, I do feelsometimes as if I should go in for a bit of smuggling. There are somerare games going on."
Claire clung to him as if exhausted by her emotion.
"Dick's been in for lots of it, I know, only he's too close to speak. Idon't know what I should have done if it hadn't been for them. I'vetaken the fish I've caught up there, and Polly Miggles has cooked them,and we've had regular feeds."
"You have been up there, Morton?" said Claire wildly.
"Yes; you needn't tell the old man.
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