the sheriff's officers; and you know what Ipromised you."
"Who's going now?"
"Major Rockley, sir."
"The deuce! Alone?"
"No, sir. I think there's a lady in the case."
"Who?"
"Don't know, sir. Take up at Mrs Pontardent's party; half arter ten."
"Thank ye, Moggridge. What'll you take?"
"Well, sir, champagne's a thing as don't often come in my way, and--"
"Come along," said Barclay, and Mr Moggridge's desires were satisfied.
"Not a bolt!" said Barclay to himself. "Who's the woman? Well, I don'twant him to go. If he goes off he won't meet my bill. He must bestopped, but how?"
He stood thinking for a few minutes, and then sat down and wrote aletter which he took out, and picking a boy from the idlers on thecliff, sent it to its destination.
Volume Two, Chapter XXI.
A WALK AND A DRIVE.
Richard Linnell found a good deal of relief in his restless state ofmind in taking long country walks, telling himself that he got away fromhis thoughts; but, on the contrary, he thought the more, and enjoyed hismisery as some young men do whose love affairs go crooked.
He was about nine miles away from Saltinville on the day of MrsPontardent's party, and rapidly increasing the distance, when hesuddenly became aware of the sound of wheels behind in the road, andlooking round as he gave place to the driver, he found that Cora Deanwas checking her ponies.
"Confound her! she has followed me," he said to himself, as she drew upby his side, quite alone, for the little seat generally occupied by theboy-groom was turned over and closed.
"This is unexpected, Mr Linnell," she said, holding out her glovedhand. "I thought you were at home."
"I felt sure you were," he said, smiling.
"Why?"
The question was accompanied by a half resentful, half tender look, thefirst intended, the latter not.
"I expected that you would be busy with hair-dressers and dressmakers,preparing for to-night's battle."
"To-night's battle?"
"Yes," he said, in a bantering, reckless way that was new to him, "thebattle with the beaux whom you are going to slay."
He felt as if he could have bitten his tongue off the next moment, as hesaw the look of pain she gave him.
"What have I done?" she said in a soft, low, half-passionate tone.
"Done! What do you mean?"
"Why do you take pleasure in laughing at me and mocking me?"
"Oh, nonsense!" he cried. "I was only speaking lightly."
"Why should you speak lightly to me?" she said. "We have lived in thesame house now for over a year, and, instead of being neighbours andfriends, there always seems to be a great gap between us."
"Why, what a sentimental view you take of things," he said. "We shakehands when we meet. We smile at one another, and nod and chat."
"Yes," she said sadly, "we shake hands, we smile at each other, we nodand chat, but--"
She stopped and seemed to try and command herself; and, to his greatrelief, she spoke lightly as she said:
"I shall see you to-night, of course?"
"No; I thought you were going to a party."
"Yes, but you will be there?"
"No," he said gravely; "I am not going."
"Not going!" she cried. "Why, you were asked."
"How do you know?"
She turned crimson, and avoided his searching look.
"Did Mrs Pontardent tell you?"
"Yes, and you will go?"
"No," he said; "I declined. Why was I asked--do you know?"
She darted an appealing look at him; and the haughty, self-assertivewoman seemed to be completely changed.
"Don't--don't be angry with me," she said. "I--I thought it would be sopleasant if you were going to be there."
"You never asked that woman to invite me, Miss Dean?"
She did not speak, but her face began to work, her hands dropped in herlap, her head drooped upon her chest, and she wept bitterly.
"Oh, Miss Dean, for heaven's sake don't do that," he said. "I hate tosee a woman cry. I can't bear it. Pray forgive me if I spoke harshly.I could not help feeling annoyed that you should have done this."
"You ought to be grateful," she cried passionately. "The woman you loveso dearly will be there with gay Major Rockley--oh, Mr Linnell--Richard--for heaven's sake forgive me. What have I said--what have Idone?"
In her alarm at the start he gave, and at his ghastly face, she let fallthe reins and caught at his arm, when the ponies, feeling their headsfree, dashed off; but this brought Linnell back to the present, and withone bound he reached the rein, hung on to it, and was dragged along fora few yards, turning the ponies' heads towards a steep bank by the sideof the narrow unfrequented road. The result would have been that hewould have been crushed between the chaise and the bank, but for Cora'spresence of mind in seizing the other rein and dragging at it with allher might.
As it was, he received a violent kick which turned him sick and faint,and when he came to, the ponies' reins were secured to a tree in thehedge, and he was lying upon the grass, with Cora's arm supporting hishead, and her frightened face bending over him.
"What is it?" he cried sharply. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she said softly. "Don't move. How brave you are!"
He looked at her wonderingly, and then flushing once more, he recalledthe whole scene, and what led to it.
"I was afraid you were hurt," he said, trying to rise; but the giddyfeeling came back, and he sank down again.
"You are hurt," she cried. "What shall I do? Richard--dear Richard!He's dying. Oh, my love--my love!"
"Hush!" he cried huskily, as she was raising his head in her arms; "forGod's sake don't speak to me like that. There--there--you see I ambetter. The pony kicked me. It made my head swim. There," he cried,rising to his knees, "you see it is all right. I quite frightened you."
He stood up now and offered her his hand to rise; but she did not takeit, for she covered her face with her hands and crouched lower and loweron her knees, sobbing wildly in a passion of grief, for his words hadbeen as cold and distant as if they had been strangers.
"Miss Dean--Miss Dean--pray let me help you to your carriage," he said;but she shrank from him.
"Don't touch me!" she cried bitterly; "you made me love you--you made medisgrace myself like this, and now I am to be your laughing-stock andscorn." She looked up at him with her eyes full of rage, which died outon the instant as she cried to him wildly, "I wish you had let medrown!"
He stood looking at her for a few moments, and then glanced along thewinding lane; but they were quite alone. Then, taking her hand, he madeher rise, for she submitted to his will without a trace of resistance.
"I am very sorry," he said at last simply.
"Sorry!" she cried angrily. "Oh, why am I such a mad fool? Why did Ibetray myself like this?"
"Hush!" he said softly, as he held her hand between both of his; "listento me. Do you think I have not seen for long enough that you arebeautiful, and that--"
"How dare you?" she cried fiercely. "It is not true."
"You must hear me," he said; "and forgive my awkwardness for speaking asI do. You know my story so well: have I not always been steadfast tothat love?"
She sobbed violently and tried to snatch away her hand, but he held itfirmly.
"I have always tried to be to you as a friend. Heaven knows I would nothave wounded you like this."
"Yes," she sobbed bitterly, "Heaven knows."
"Why did you stab me with those cruel words?" he cried resentfully.
"I don't know," she wailed. "I was mad. It makes me mad to see you goon worshipping her as you do. Does she make you love and hate her too,as she does me?"
"Hush--hush!" he said quickly. "I want to like and respect you, CoraDean."
"Like! Respect!" she cried, with a flash of her former rage. "Why haveI degraded myself like this
?"
"Do you not trust me?" he said gently, as he looked in her eyes. "Doyou think I should be such a despicable coward as ever to whisper wordof this to a soul? Come," he said, with a frank smile, "we have bothbeen unfortunate. Let us be friends."
"Friends?" she cried. "No; a woman never forgives a slight like this.Do you think I could?"
"Yes," he said, after a few moments' pause. "You hate me, and arebitter against me now; but when you have grown calm you will respect me,I am sure. Cora," he cried, with an outburst as excited as her own,"there is no such thing as love or truth on earth. I--Bah! What am Isaying?" he cried, checking himself. "Come, we are friends. Let mehelp you to your place again."
He offered his hand once more, but she struck it aside, and went to theponies' heads while he tried to forestall her, but had to catch at theside of the chaise to save himself a fall.
Her anger was gone on the instant as she saw his face contract withpain, and in a moment she was by his side.
"It is my turn to triumph," she said in a deep, low tone. "RichardLinnell, you must trust to the woman you despise I shall have to driveyou home."
He tried to master the pain, but he could not; and, with a deprecatingsmile, he had to confess his weakness, and accept a seat back toSaltinville, for it was impossible to walk.
It was a triumph, Cora Dean saw, as she sat up proud and stately besidehim; and she felt her heart glow as they reached the town, and scores ofpromenaders noted him seated by her side; but it was not a pleasantdrive home, all the same.
Volume Two, Chapter XXII.
LINNELL CHANGES HIS MIND.
"Getting cured then, Dick?" said Colonel Mellersh grimly, as Richardlimped into the room after finding a note in his own place, which hisfather said had been brought by a boy.
"Cured? Look, I am quite lame. One of Miss Dean's ponies kicked me;but it will only be a bruise."
"Humph! How convenient!" said the Colonel, with a grim look.
"Don't laugh at me," said Linnell quickly. "I could not help myself."
"That's what we all say when we fall victims to fascination."
"Mellersh, pray stop this banter. You refused Mrs Pontardent'sinvitation for yourself and me?"
"I did."
"I want you to ask her pardon, and get the invitations for us. I mustget there to-night."
"Because Miss Cora Dean, your beautiful charioteer, will be there?"
"No!" fiercely.
"Why, then, most impressionable youth?"
"Because--must I tell you?"
"Yes, if you wish me to act," said the Colonel sternly.
"Because Claire Denville will be there."
"Good heavens! that old fop is never going to take that girl?"
"He is."
"Pooh! What am I saying?" cried the Colonel, half laughingly. "Well,what of it? Why do you want to go?"
"Look."
Linnell held out the note he had found in his room, and Mellersh readit.
"Rockley--post-horses--for the London Road. Who sent this, Dick?"
"I don't know."
"It may be a trick."
"Who would trick me like that? And what for?"
Mellersh remained silent for a few minutes, and then he said gravely:
"Well, Dick, suppose it is so. Surely you are going to awake from thismadness now?"
"What do you mean?"
"What does this letter mean? It is plain enough. Constant sapping hascarried the fortress, and the lady has consented."
"Don't talk like that, Mellersh. For heaven's sake, don't take thatcynical tone."
"Why not, madman? I have heard tell that women often say no when theymean yes. A lady we know must have meant yes. Hang it, boy, what moreproof do you want that the woman is unworthy of your love?"
"None," said Linnell bitterly; "none, but I love her all the same."
"Nonsense! Be a man."
"I am a man," cried Linnell furiously, "too much of a man to see thewoman I love suffer for her weakness when I can stretch out a hand tosave her. That hand I can stretch out, and I will. Now, will you helpme?"
"To the death, Dick. I abhor your folly, but there is so much truechivalry in it that I'll help you with all my heart."
"I knew you would," cried Linnell excitedly. "Write at once and get theinvitations."
"Pish!" said Mellersh contemptuously. "Don't trouble yourself, my boy.I have only to walk in at Madame Pontardent's door with any friend Ilike to take. Ah, I wonder how many hundred pounds I have won in thathouse!"
Linnell was walking up and down the room when the strains of music heardacross the hall ceased; and directly after old Mr Linnell's pleasant,grave head was thrust into the room.
"Another letter for you, Dick, my son. Just come."
He held it out, nodded to both, and went back to his room, when theviolin was heard again.
"Strange hand," said Richard, opening it quickly.
"Good God!"
"What's the matter?" cried Richard, as he heard his friend'sexclamation--saw his start.
"What has Miss Clode to say to you?" said Mellersh huskily.
"Miss Clode? This is not from Miss Clode. Look--no, I cannot showyou," cried Richard excitedly. "Yes, I will; I keep nothing from you."
Mellersh glanced at the note which had been delivered by hand. It wasanonymous, and only contained these words:
"If Mr Richard Linnell wishes for further proof of the unworthiness ofa certain lady, let him visit Mrs Pontardent's to-night."
"That cannot be from Miss Clode," said Richard, as he saw his friend'sface resume its cynical calm.
"Possibly not. Of course not. Why should she write to you? Well,Dick, we'll go and see the affair to-night; but what do you mean to do?"
"Act according to circumstances. At any rate stop this wretchedbusiness."
"Good," said Mellersh. "I'm with you, Dick; but if it comes to ameeting this time, let me take the initiative. I should like to standin front of Rockley some morning. The man irritates me, and I am in hisdebt."
"What, money?"
"No; I want to pay back a few insults thrown at me over the tables nowand then."
Volume Two, Chapter XXIII.
AN EXACTING GUEST.
Mrs Pontardent was a lady of a class who prospered well in the dayswhen George the Third was king, and fashionable men considered it thecorrect thing to ruin themselves at cards wherever the tables wereopened for the purpose. If you go to an auction sale now, inout-of-the-way places, there are sure to be card-tables in thecatalogue; but if you furnish newly, your eyes rarely light upon greenbaize-lined tables exhibited for sale.
There were several at Mrs Pontardent's handsomely-furnished detachedhouse in Prince's Road, where it stood back in fairly extensive grounds.In fact, it was, after Lord Carboro's, one of the best houses close toSaltinville.
There were plenty of carriages waiting about in the road that night--somany along by the garden wall that Major Rockley found it necessary toalter his plans, for a post-chaise and four was likely to attractattention, and its postboys might be the objects of a good deal ofribald jest if they were close up with the servants of the privatecarriages.
To meet this difficulty, not being able to find his servant, he wentround himself to the livery-stables, feed the postboys, and gave theminstructions to wait in the back lane close by the door in the wall atthe north side of the garden.
That door was only unlocked when the gardener was receiving fresh soil,plants or pots, or found it necessary to go out for a quiet refresher inthe heat of the day; but after an interview and the offer of a goldenkey, the gardener thought it possible that the door might be left openthat night.
Mrs Pontardent lived in style, and her rooms deserved the title ofsaloons, draped as they were with amber satin, and bright with waxcandles, whose light was reflected from many girandoles.
The drawing-room windows opened on to a well-kept lawn; there were boskywalks; a terrace from which
the glittering sea was visible; and in thesaloons and about the garden a large and brilliant company wasassembled.
The Barclays were there, for Barclay was everybody's banker, and anecessity. The Deans arrived early, and Cora looked handsomer thanever. In fact, the officers of the dragoon regiment, as they saw her goup and speak to Claire, declared that they were the most perfect blondeand brunette that the world had ever seen. But then Mrs Pontardent'swines were excellent, and it was acknowledged that it was a guest's ownfault if he did not have enough.
Tea, coffee, ices, and sandwiches at various buffets were spread as amatter of course, but the servants who waited there had a light timecompared with that of the butler and his aid.
The Master of the Ceremonies had arrived early with his daughter, whomMrs Pontardent kissed affectionately, and called "My dear child," andthen her father was obliged to leave her, as he had so many duties toperform, receiving guests and introducing them to the hostess as
The Master of the Ceremonies Page 56