The Master of the Ceremonies
Page 16
said--acertain very high personage--that you were--"
"Shame, sister!" cried Claire, starting up as if she had been stung."How can you--how dare you, speak to me like that?"
"Hoity-toity! What's the matter, child?"
"Child!" cried Claire indignantly. "Do you forget that you have alwaysbeen as a child to me--my chief care ever since our mother died? Oh,May, May, darling, this is not like you. Pray--pray be more guarded inwhat you say. There, dearest, I am not angry; but this light andfrivolous manner distresses me. You are Frank Burnett's honoured wife--girl yet, I know; but your marriage lifts you at once to a positionamongst women, and these light, flippant ways sit so ill upon one likeyou."
"Oh, pooh! stuff! you silly, particular old frump!" cried May sharply."Do you suppose that a married woman is going to be like a weak, prudishgirl? There, there, there; I did not come to quarrel, and I won't bescolded. I say, they tell me that handsome Major Rockley is likely tothrow himself away on Cora Dean."
"Oh, May, May, my darling!"
"You are a goose not to catch him in your own net."
"Major Rockley?"
"Yes; he is rich and handsome. I wish I'd had him instead of Frank."
"May, dear May!"
"Oh, I know: it's only talk. But, I say, dear, have you heard about oldDrelincourt? So shocking! In mourning, too. They say she is mad tomarry some one. There, good-bye. Don't crush my bonnet. Oh, ofcourse; yes, I'm going to be as prudish as you, and so careful. Well,what is it?"
"May, you cannot deceive me; you have something on your mind."
"I? Nonsense! Absurd!"
"You were going to tell me something; to ask me to help you, I am sure."
"Well--perhaps--yes," said the little thing, with scarlet face. "Butyou frightened me out of it. I daren't now. Next time. Good-bye;good-bye; good-bye."
She rattled these last words out hastily, kissed her sister, andhurried, in a strangely excited manner, from the room.
Claire watched the carriage go, and then sank back out of sight in achair, to clasp her hands upon her knees, and gaze before her with astrangely old look upon her beautiful face.
For there was trouble, not help, to be obtained from the wilful, girlishwife who had so lately left her side.
Volume One, Chapter XIII.
A NIGHT-BIRD TRAPPED.
It was, as Morton Denville said, cold and cheerless at his home, and theproceedings that night endorsed his words, as at half-past ten, afterthe servants had been dismissed, his father rose to seek his sleeplesscouch.
Claire rose at the same moment, starting from a silent musing fit, whileMorton threw down the book he had been reading in a very ill-used way.
"Good-night, my son," said Denville, holding out his hand, and graspingthe lad's with unusual fervour. "Good-night, father."
"And you'll mind and be particular now, my boy. I am sure that at lastI can advance your prospects."
"Oh, yes, father, I'll be particular."
"Don't let people see you fishing there again." "No, father, I'll takecare. Good-night. Coming Claire?" Claire had put away her needlework,and was standing cold and silent by the table.
"Good-night, Claire, my child," said Denville, with a piteous look andappeal in his tone.
"Good-night, father."
She did not move as the old man took a couple of steps forward andkissed her brow, laying his hands afterwards upon her head and mutteringa blessing.
Then, in spite of her efforts, a chill seemed to run through her, andshe trembled, while he, noting it, turned away with a look of agony inhis countenance that he sought to conceal, and sank down in the nearestchair.
He seemed to be a totally different man, and those who had seen him uponthe cliff and pier would not have recognised in him the fashionablefribble, whose task it was to direct the flight of the butterflies ofthe Assembly Room, and preside at every public dance.
"Aren't you going to bed, father?" said Morton, trying to speakcarelessly.
"Yes, yes, my son, yes. I only wish to think out my plans a little--your commission, and other matters."
"I hope he won't be long," muttered Morton as he left the room. "Why,Claire, how white and cold you are! There, hang me if it isn't enoughto make a fellow sell himself to that old Lady Drelincourt for the sakeof getting money to take care of you. If I'd got plenty, you should goabroad for a change."
Claire kissed him affectionately.
"Hang me if I don't begin to hate May. She doesn't seem like a sisterto us. Been here to-day, hasn't she? I heard they'd come back."
"Yes," said Claire with a sigh.
"It was cowardly of them to go off like that, when you were in suchtrouble. You did not have a single woman come and say a kind wordwhen--_that_ was in the house."
"Don't speak of it, dear," said Claire. "Mrs Barclay came, though."
"Rum old girl! I always feel ready to laugh at her."
"She has a heart of gold."
"Old Barclay has a box of gold, and nice and tightly he keeps it lockedup. I say, he'll sell us up some day."
"Morton dear, I can't bear to talk to you to-night; and don't speak likethat of May. She has her husband to obey."
"Bless him!" cried Morton musingly. "Good-night, Sis."
He kissed her affectionately, and a faint smile came into Claire's wanface, as it seemed to comfort her in her weary sorrow. Then theyparted, and she went to her room, opened the window, and sat with herface among the flowers, watching the sea and thinking of some one whomshe had in secret seen pass by there at night.
That was a dream of the past, she told herself now, for it could neverbe. Love, for her, was dead; no man could call her wife with such asecret as she held in her breast, and as she thought on, her miseryseemed greater than she could bear.
The tide was well up, and the stars glittered in the heaving bosom ofthe sea as she sat and gazed out; and then all at once her heart seemedto stand still, and then began beating furiously, for a familiar stepcame slowly along the cobble-paved walk in front of the house, along bythe railed edge of the cliff, and then for a moment she could see thetall, dark figure she knew so well, gazing wistfully up at the window.
She knew he loved her; she knew that her heart had gone out to him,though their acquaintance was of the most distant kind. She knew, too,how many obstacles poverty had thrown in the way of both, but some day,she had felt, all would be swept away. Now all that was past. She mustnever look at him again.
She shrank from the window, and sank upon her knees, weeping softly forthe unattainable, as she felt how he must love her, and that his heartwas with her in sympathy with all her trouble.
"Dead--dead--dead," she moaned; "my love is dead, and my life-coursebroadly marked out, so that I cannot turn to the right or left."
She started and shuddered, for below her there was the tread of a heavyfoot. She heard her father's slight cough, and his closing door, and atthe same moment, as if it were he who separated them, the step outsidecould be heard returning, and Claire arose and crept to the window againto listen till it died away.
"Dead--dead--my love is dead," she moaned again, and closing the window,she strove to forget her agony of mind and the leaden weight that seemedto rest upon her brow in sleep.
Eleven had struck, and two quarters had chimed before Morton Denvilledared to stir. He had waited with open door, listening impatiently forhis father's retiring; he had listened to the steps outside; and then atlast, with all the eagerness of a boy, in spite of his near approach tomanhood, and excited by the anticipations of the fishing, and theromance of the little adventure, he stole forth with his shoes in hishands, after carefully closing the catch of his well-oiled door.
The crucial part was the passing of the end of the passage leading tohis father's room, and here he paused for a few moments, but he fanciedhe could hear a long-drawn breathing, and, after a hasty glance at thedoor of the back drawing-room, erst Lady Teigne's chamber, he opened thedrawing-room door
, stepped in and closed it.
He breathed more freely now, but a curious chill ran through him, and hefelt ready to retreat as he saw that the folding-doors were not closed,and that the faint light from the back window made several articles offurniture look grotesque and strange.
"Here am I, just twenty, and as cowardly as a girl," he muttered. "Iwon't be afraid."
All the same, though, his heart beat violently, and he shrank frommoving for some minutes.
"And Dick waiting," he muttered.
Those words gave him the strength he sought, and, going on tiptoe acrossthe room, half feeling as if a hand were going to be laid