The Master of the Ceremonies

by George Manville Fenn

looks."

  "Why, father, this is quite a homily."

  "Ah, yes, Dick," he said, laughing. "I ought to have been a preacher, Ithink, I am always prosing. Poor things--poor things! A lovely face isoften a curse."

  "Oh, don't say that."

  "But I do say it, Dick. It is a curse to that woman upstairs. Nevermarry a beautiful woman, Dick."

  "But you did, father."

  The old man started violently and changed colour, but recovered himselfon the instant.

  "Yes, yes. She was very beautiful. And she died, Dick; she died."

  He bent his head over his music, and Richard crossed and laid his handupon his shoulder.

  "I am sorry I spoke so thoughtlessly."

  "Oh, no, my boy; oh, no. It was quite right. She was a very beautifulwoman. That miniature does not do her justice. But--but don't marry abeautiful woman, Dick," he continued, gazing wistfully into his son'sface. "Now that _adagio_. It is a favourite bit of mine."

  Richard Linnell looked as if he would have liked to speak, and there wasa troubled expression on his face as he thought of Claire Denville'ssweet candid eyes; but he shrank from any avowal. For how dare he, whenshe had given him but little thought, and--well, she was a beautifulwoman, one of those against whom he had been warned.

  He looked up and found his father watching him keenly, when both assumedignorance of any other matter than the _adagio_ movement, the sweetnotes of which, produced by the thrilling strings, floated out throughthe open window, and up and in that of the drawing-room floor overhead,where on a luxurious couch Mrs Dean had thrown herself, while herdaughter was slowly pacing the room with the air of a tragedy queen.

  "Buzz-buzz; boom-boom! Oh, those horrid fiddlers!" cried Mrs Dean,bouncing up and crossing to the fireplace, where she caught up thepoker; but only to have her hand seized by her daughter, who took thepoker away, and replaced it in the fender.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "What am I going to do? Why thump on the floor to make them quiet. Doyou suppose I'm going to sit here and be driven mad with their scraping!This isn't a playhouse!"

  "You will do nothing of the sort, mother."

  "Oh, won't I? Do you think I'm going to pay old Barclay all that moneyfor these rooms, and not have any peace? Pray who are you talking to?"

  "To you, mother," said Cora sternly; and the stoutly-built,brazen-looking virago shrank from her daughter's fierce gaze. "You mustnot forget yourself here, among all these respectable people."

  "And pray who's going to? But I don't know so much about yourrespectability. That Colonel, with his queer looks like the devil in`Dr Faustus,' is no better than he should be."

  "The Colonel is a man of the world like the rest," said Cora coldly.

  "Yes, and a nice man of the world, too. And that old Linnell's livingapart from his wife. I know though--"

  "Silence!"

  "Now look here, Betsy, I won't have you say _silence_ to me like that.This here isn't the stage, and we aren't playing parts. Just you speakto me proper, madam."

  "Mother, I will not have you speak of Mr Linnell like that."

  "Ho, indeed! And why not, pray? Now, look here, Betsy," she cried,holding up a warning finger, "I won't have no nonsense there. I'm not afool. I know the world. I've seen you sighing and looking soft whenwe've passed that young fellow downstairs."

  Cora's eyes seemed to burn as she fixedly returned her mother's look.

  "Oh, you may stare, madam; but I can see more than you think. Why, youought to be ashamed of yourself, making eyes at a poor, pennilessfiddler, when you might--"

  "I--I don't want to quarrel, mother," cried Cora, "but if you dare tospeak to me again like that I'll not be answerable for myself."

  "There!--there!--there! There's gratitude!"

  "Gratitude? Where should I have been but for Mr Linnell's bravery, andwhich of the wretched dressed-up and titled dandies stirred to save methe other day? Richard Linnell is a brave, true-hearted man, too goodto marry an actress."

  "She's mad--she's mad--she's mad! There's grace; and to her mother,too, who's thought of nothing but getting her on in the world, andbrought her forward, so that now she can live on the best of everything,in the handsomest of rooms, and keep her carriage. She flies in herpoor mother's face, and wants to get rid of her, I suppose. Oho--oho--oh!"

  Mrs Dean plumped herself down into a gilded chair, and began to howlvery softly.

  "Don't be a fool, mother," said Cora. "I don't want to quarrel, I tellyou, so hold your tongue."

  "After the way I've brought her up, too," howled Mrs Dean--softly, sothat the sound should not be heard downstairs.

  "After the way you've brought me up!" cried Cora fiercely. "Yes;brought me up to be sneered at by every lady I meet--brought me up sothat I hate myself, and long sometimes to be one of the poor women wesee knitting stockings on the beach."

  "Don't be a fool, Cory, my handsome, beautiful gal," cried Mrs Dean,suddenly starting up in her seat, dry-eyed and forgetful of her grief."How can you be so stupid!"

  "Stupid!" cried Cora bitterly. "Is it stupid to wish myself a womanthat some true-hearted man could love, instead of looking forward to alife of acting."

  "Oh, how you do go on to be sure. I am surprised at you, Cory. I knowwhat you'd say about the life as them leads as ar'n't in the profession,but don't you be a fool, Betsy. `Your face is your fortune, sir, shesaid,' as the song says; working your fingers to the bone won't keep youout of the workus. Don't tell me. I know. I've known them as hastried it. Let them work as likes. I like a cutlet and a glass of finesherry, and some well-made coffee with a noo-laid egg in it, and itain't to be got by folks as works their fingers to the bone."

  "And who wants to work their fingers to the bone, mother?" cried Cora,tearing off and flinging down her handsome feathered hat. "In everyface I see there's the look--`You're only one of the stage-players--arogue and a vagabond.' I want to lead some life for which I need notblush."

  "As she needn't blush for! Oh, dear, oh, dear! When her father trodthe boards and her mother was born on 'em! What a gal you are, Betsy,"said Mrs Dean, who professed high good humour now, and she rockedherself to and fro, and pressed her hands on her knees as she laughed."Oh, I say, Cory, you are a one. You will act the injured fine lady inprivate life, my dear. Why, what a silly thing you are. Look at thathat you've chucked down. Didn't it cost five guineas?"

  "Yes, mother, it cost five guineas," said Cora wearily.

  "And you can have whatever you like. Oh, I say, my lovely gal, for youreally are, you know, don't get into these silly fits. It's such stuff.Why, who knows what may happen? You may be right up atop of the treeyet, and how about yon folks as passes you by now? Why, they'll all beas civil and friendly as can be. There, there, come and kiss me, ducky,we mustn't quarrel, must we? I've got my eyes open for you, so don't,don't, there's a dear. I know what these things means--don't gochucking yourself at that young Linnell's head."

  "Let Mr Linnell alone, mother."

  "But I can't, my luvvy; I know too well what these things mean. Why,there was Julia Jennings as was at the Lane--it was just afore you wasborn. There was a dook and a couple of lords, and carridges and horses,and livery suvvants, and as many jewels and dymonds and dresses as sheliked to order; and if she didn't kick 'em all over and marry a shopman,and lived poor ever after. Now do, my luvvy, be advised by me. I knowwhat the world is, and--Gracious goodness! there's somebody coming upthe stairs."

  Mrs Dean threw herself into an attitude meant to be easy, and Corasmoothed her knitted brows as there was a knock at the door, and, aftera loud "Come in," a neat-looking maid entered.

  "Mr Barclay, please, ma'am."

  "Show him up, Jane," said Mrs Dean sharply; and then, as the doorclosed, "The old rip's come after his rent. How precious sharp he is."

  "Morning, ladies," said Barclay. "I heard you were in. Glad to see youare no worse for your accident the other day."

>   He glanced at Cora, who bowed rather stiffly, and said "Not at all."

  "I can't say that, Mr Barclay. I'm a bit shook; but, as I said to mydaughter, I wasn't going to show the white feather, and the ponies golovely now."

  "Well, I'm glad of that."

  "And I'm so much obliged to you for