sun."
"Perhaps some day I shall find out who did it, Dick."
"Hah--yes," said the man, staring at him hard. "Then you won't come?"
"Yes, I will," cried Morton. "It's so cowardly not to come. I shall bethere;" and, stopping to pick up the flower the child had again dropped,the pretty little thing smiled in his face, and he bent down and kissedit before striding away.
"Think o' that, now," said Mrs Miggles, coming to the door.
"Think o' what?" growled her lord, breaking off an old sea-ditty he wassinging to the child.
"Why, him taking to the little one and kissing it. How strange thingsis!"
Volume One, Chapter XII.
MRS BURNETT MAKES A CALL.
"Gad, but the old boy's proud of that chariot," said Sir Matthew Bray,mystifying his sight by using an eyeglass.
"Yes," said Sir Harry Payne, who was lolling against the railings thatguarded promenaders from a fall over the cliff; and he joined his friendin gazing at an elegantly-appointed britzka which had drawn up at theside, and at whose door the Master of the Ceremonies was talking to avery young and pretty woman. "Yes; deuced pretty woman, May Burnett.What a shame that little wretch Frank should get hold of her."
"Egad, but it was a good thing for her. I say, Harry, weren't you sweetupon her?"
"I never tell tales out of school, Matt. 'Fore George, how confoundedlymy head aches this morning."
Just then the Master of the Ceremonies drew back, raising his hat withthe greatest of politeness to the lady, and waving his cane to thecoachman, who drove off, the old man going in the other directionmuttering to himself, but proud and happy, while the carriage passed thetwo bucks, who raised their hats and were rewarded with the sweetest ofsmiles from a pair of very innocent, girlish-looking little lips, theirowner, aptly named May, being a very blossom of girlish prettiness anddimpled innocency.
"Gad, she is pretty," said Sir Matthew Bray. "Come along, old lad.Let's see if Drelincourt or anyone else is on the pier."
"Aha! does the wind blow that way, Matt? Why were you not there to savethe dog?"
"Wind? what way?" said the big, over-dressed dandy, raising hiseyebrows.
"Ha--ha--ha! come, come!" cried Sir Harry, touching his friend in theside with the gold knob of his cane, "how innocent we are;" and, takingSir Matthew's arm, they strolled on towards the pier.
"I didn't ask you who the note was for that we left at Mother Clode's,"said Sir Matthew sulkily.
"No; neither did I ask you where yours came from--you Goliath of foxes,"laughed Sir Harry. "But I say. 'Fore George, it was on mourning paper,and was scented with musk. Ha--ha--ha!"
Sir Matthew scowled and grumbled, but the next moment the incident wasforgotten, and both gentlemen were raising their ugly beaver hats tofirst one and then another of the belles they passed.
Meanwhile the britzka was driven on along the Parade, and drew up at thehouse of the Master of the Ceremonies, where the footman descended fromhis seat beside the coachman, and brought envious lodging-letters to thewindows on either side by his tremendous roll of the knocker and peal atthe bell.
Isaac appeared directly.
Yes, Miss Denville was in, so the steps were rattled down, and MrsFrank Burnett descended lightly, rustled up to the front door, andentered with all the hauteur of one accustomed to a large income andcarriage calling.
"Ah, Claire darling!" she cried, as she was shown into the drawing-room;"how glad I shall be to see you doing this sort of thing. Really, youknow, it is time."
"Ah, May dear," said Claire, kissing her sister affectionately, but witha grave pained look in her eyes, "I am so glad to see you. I waswishing you would come. Papa will be so disappointed: he has gone upthe town to see the tailor about Morton."
"What, does that boy want new clothes again? Papa did not say so."
"Have you seen him, then?"
"Yes. How well he looks. But why did you want to see me?"
For answer Claire took her sister's hand, led her to the chintz-coveredsofa, and seated herself beside her, with her arm round May's waist.
"Oh, do be careful, Claire," said Mrs Burnett pettishly; "this is mylute-string. And, my dear, how wretchedly you do dress in a morning."
"It is good enough for home, dear, and we are obliged to be so careful.May dear, I hardly like to ask you, but could you spare me a guinea ortwo?"
"Spare you a guinea or two? Why, bless the child! what can you wantwith a guinea or two?"
"I want it for Morton. There are several things he needs so much, and Iwant besides to be able to let him have a little pocket-money when heasks."
"Oh, really, I cannot, Claire. It is quite out of the question. Frankkeeps me so dreadfully short. You would never believe what trouble Ihave to get a few guineas from him when I am going out, and there is somuch play now that one is compelled to have a little to lose. But Imust be off. I have some shopping to do, and a call or two to makebesides. Then there is a book to get at Miss Clode's. I won't ask youto come for a drive this morning."
"No, dear, don't. But stay a few minutes; I have something to say toyou."
"Now, whatever can you have to say, Claire dear? Nothing about that--that--oh, don't, pray. I could not bear it. All the resolution I hadwas needed to come here at all, and, as I told you in my letter, it wasimpossible for me to come before. Frank would not let me."
"I want to talk to you very--very seriously."
"About that dreadful affair?"
"No," said Claire, with a curiously solemn look coming over her face,and her voice assuming a deep, tragic tone.
"Then it is about--oh, Claire!" she cried passionately, as she glancedup at a floridly painted portrait of herself on the wall; "I do wish youwould take that picture down."
"Why should you mind that? You know papa likes it."
"Because it reminds me so of the past."
"When you were so weak and frivolous with that poor fellow Louis."
"Now I did not come here to be scolded," cried the childlike littlething passionately. "I don't care. I did love poor Louis, and he'd nobusiness to go away and die."
"Hush, hush, May, my darling," said Claire, with a pained face. "I didnot scold you."
"You did," sobbed the other; "you said something about Louis, and thatyou had something to talk to me about. What is it?" she cried with alook of childish fright in her eyes. "What is it?" she repeated, andshe clung to her sister excitedly.
"Hush, hush, May, I was not going to scold, only to talk to you."
"It will keep, I'm sure," cried May, with the scared look intensifying.
"No, dearest, it will not keep, for it is something very serious--soserious that I would not have our father know it for the world."
"Lack-a-day, Claire," cried Mrs Burnett, with assumed mirth formingpleasant dimples in her sweet childish face, "what is the matter?"
"I wanted to say a few words of warning to you, May dear. You know howready people are to gossip?"
"Good lack, yes, indeed they are. But what--?" she faltered, "what--?"
"And several times lately they have been busy with your name."
"With my name!" cried Mrs Burnett, with a forced laugh, and a sigh ofrelief.
"Yes, dear, about little bits of freedom, and--and--I don't like to callit coquetry. I want you, dearest, to promise me that you will be alittle more staid. Dear May, it pains me more than I can say."
"Frump! frump! frump! Why you silly, weak, quakerish old frump, Claire!What nonsense to be sure! A woman in my position, asked out as I am torout, and kettledrum, and ball, night after night, cannot sit mumchanceagainst the wall, and mumble scandal with the old maids. Now, I wonderwho has been putting all this in your head?"
"I will not repeat names, dear; but it is some one whom I can trust."
"Then she is a scandalous old harridan, whoever she is," cried MrsBurnett with great warmth. "And what do you know about such matters?"
"I know it pains me to he
ar that my dear sister's name is mentionedfreely at the officers' mess, and made a common toast."
"Oh, indeed, madam; and pray what about yours? Who is talked of atevery gathering, and married to everyone in turn?"
"I know nothing of those things," said Claire coldly.
"Ah, well, all right; but, I say, when's it to be, Claire? Don'tfribble away this season. I hear of two good opportunities for you;and--oh, I say, Claire, they do tell me that a certain gentleman
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