The Master of the Ceremonies

by George Manville Fenn

and punish him for this."

  "No, no, dear; he has gone far away; but pray, pray, say no more."

  "I must," she said smiling. "I have wasted so much time that I cannotspare a moment now. Ah, Claire, if I had been like you!"

  "I wish you had been happier than ever I have been," said Claire sadly."Now try and sleep."

  "I want to talk to you about baby, Claire dear," continued May, withoutheeding her sister's words.

  She laughed softly, and her sister gazed at her in wonder, thinking thatshe was wandering again, as in the days of her long delirium.

  "I was laughing about baby," she said. "Such a droll little soft thing.I laughed when I saw it first, for we both seemed to be such bits ofgirls, and it seemed such nonsense for me to be the poor little tot'smother. I have never been like a mother to it, though, leaving italways to strangers; but you, Claire, you will see to it, and be abetter mother to her than ever I could."

  "You shall get better, May, and make your little one a blessing to youwhen we are far away from here."

  "Yes," said May with the same peculiar look, "far away from here. Poorlittle baby! Does my father know?"

  "Yes: everything now, dear."

  "Oh, yes, I had forgotten: he kissed me as if he did, and forgave hisweak, wilful child."

  "How is she?" whispered Denville, entering the room softly a few minuteslater.

  "Asleep," said Claire in the same tone.

  "Is she--do you think she--"

  He trailed off in his speech, and ended by looking imploringly in hisdaughter's face.

  "I dare not say," said Claire mournfully. "Father, she is very ill."

  "Then you must nurse her, Claire," said the old man excitedly, as hecaught her hand to hold it tightly. "You must get her well, so that wecan go--all go--far away--where we are not known. We cannot stay herein misery and debt and disgrace. Everything is against us now. My oldposition is gone. I dare not walk to the Assembly-Room, for fear ofsome insult or slight. I am the Master of the Ceremonies only in name.I am disgraced."

  "Then we will go," said Claire sadly; "but it cannot be yet. Havepatience, dear."

  She laid her hand upon the old man's shoulder, and bent forward andkissed his cheek.

  He caught her in his arms.

  "You do not shrink from me?" he said bitterly.

  "Shrink? No, father; I am your child. Now, tell me--about money--whatare we to do?"

  Denville shook his head.

  "There is only one way out of the difficulty, Claire."

  "A way, father?"

  "Yes; Lord Carboro' spoke to me again this morning on the Parade. Hecame up to me like the gentleman he is, and just as I had been openlycut by townsman after townsman. He shook hands with me and took my arm,Claire, and--and--I told him he might come here--to-day--and speak toyou."

  "Oh, father, what have you done? You have not taken money from him?"

  "No--no--no!" cried the old man indignantly. "I have not sunk so low asthat; but it was tempting. That man Isaac has grown insolent, and hastwice come home intoxicated. Claire, I am the fellow's slave while I amin his debt. I want to send him away, but I cannot. Hush!"

  There was a double knock at the door, and Denville went softly down,leaving Claire with a fresh agony to battle against, for, few as hadbeen her father's words, they had been sufficiently plain to make herask herself whether it was not her duty to give up everything--to sellherself, as it were, to this old nobleman, that her father might besaved from penury, and her sister placed beyond the reach of want; forher home must in future be with them.

  "Have we not at last reached the very dregs of bitterness?" she saidwildly. "Heaven help me in this cruel strait!"

  The door opened softly, and Denville signed to Claire to come to him onthe landing.

  "It is Lord Carboro'," he whispered. "You must speak to him."

  Claire shrank back for a moment, but her firmness returned, and sheclosed the door and followed her father to take his hand.

  "I would do everything, now, father, even to this," she said solemnly;"but it is impossible. Ask yourself."

  "Yes," he said sadly, "it is impossible. But it is very hard--to seewealth and prosperity for you, my child, and to have to say _no_. Butit is impossible. Speak gently to the old man. He has been a goodfriend to me."

  It seemed as if a mist was about her as Claire Denville entered thedrawing-room, beyond which she could dimly see Lord Carboro', lookingalmost grotesque in his quaint costume and careful get-up, fresh fromthe hands of his valet. He had been labouring hard to appear forty; butanxiety and the inexorable truth made him look at least seventy, as herose, bowed, and placed a chair for the pale, graceful girl, and thentook one near her.

  The old man had prepared a set speech of a very florid nature, for,matter-of-fact worldling as he was, he had felt himself weak andhelpless before the woman for whom he had quite a doting affection. Butthe sight of Claire's grief-stricken face and the recollection of thesuffering and mental care through which she must have passed, drove awayall thought of his prepared words, and he felt more like asimple-hearted old man full of pity than he had ever been before.

  He took her hand, which was given up unresistingly, and after athoughtful look in the calm clear eyes that met his, he said slowly:

  "My dear Miss Denville, I came here to-day, a vain weak man, full of thedesire to appear young; but you have driven away all this shallowpretence, for I feel that you can see me clearly as what I am, an oldfellow of seventy. Hush! don't speak my dear child till I have done. Ihave always admired you as a beautiful girl: I now love you as thesweet, patient, suffering woman who has devoted herself to others."

  "Lord Carboro'--"

  "No, no; let me try and finish, my dear. I will be very brief. Itwould be a mockery to speak flattering follies to such a one as you.Tell me first--Did your father give you to understand that I wascoming?"

  Claire bent her head.

  "Then let me say simply, my child, that if you will be my wife and giveme such love as your sweet dutiful heart will teach you to give to thedoting old man who asks you, I will try all I can to make your younglife happy, and place it in your power to make a pleasant home somewherefor poor old Denville, and your sister. We must bring her round. Atrip abroad with your father, and--and--dear me--dear me, my child, I amrambling strangely, and hardly know what I say, only that I ask you tobe my wife, and in return you shall be mistress of all I possess. Iknow the difference in our ages, and what the world will say; but Icould afford to laugh at the world for the few years I should be likelyto stay in it, and afterwards, my child, you would be free and rich, andwith no duty left but to think kindly of the old man who was gone."

  Claire listened to the old man's words with a strange swelling sensationin her breast. The tears gathered slowly in her eyes as she gazedwistfully at him, wondering at the tender respect he paid her, and oneby one they brimmed over and trickled down.

  She could not speak, but at last in the gratitude of her heart, as shethought of the sacrifice he made in offering her rank and riches, afterthe miserable scandals of which she had been the victim, she raised hiswithered hand slowly to her lips.

  "No, no," he cried, "not that. You consent then?"

  "No, my lord," said Claire firmly. "It is impossible."

  "Then--then," he cried testily. "You do love someone else."

  Claire bowed her head, and her eyes looked resentment for a moment.Then in a low sweet voice she said:

  "Even if I could say to you, Lord Carboro' my heart is free, and I willtry to be your loving, dutiful wife, there are reasons which make itimpossible."

  "These troubles--that I will not name. I know, I know," he saidhastily; "but they are miserable family troubles, not yours."

  "Troubles that are mine, Lord Carboro', and which I must share. Forgiveme if I give you pain, but I could never be your wife."

  The old man dropped the hand he held, and his face was full ofresentment as he replie
d:

  "Do you know what you are throwing away?" Then, checking himself, "No,no, I spoke angrily--like a thoughtless boy. Don't take any notice ofmy words, but think--pray think of your father--of your sister. How youcould help them in the position you would hold."

  "Lord Carboro'," said Claire, "I am weak, heart-sick and worn withwatching. I can hardly find words to thank you, and I want you to thinkme grateful, but what you ask is impossible. It can never be."

  The old man rose angrily and took a turn or two about the room, as hestrove hard to fight down his bitter mortification.

  Twice over he stopped