The Master of the Ceremonies
Page 88
straight to her, taking her handand kissing her, before bestowing the same salute upon Mrs Barclay.
"I am glad to see you, my dear," said the latter volubly, for she wasnervously afraid that Claire would go, and of the opinion that the bestway to set both at their ease was to talk.
"I ought to have been here before," said Cora, "but my mother has beenill. Don't think me unkind, Claire Denville."
She bent over and took Claire's hand, and met her eyes with a curiouswistful look that was full of affection; but, as in some clear gem, suchas lay beside them on the table, there was a hidden fire that keptdarting forth, and that fire was the vainly-smothered bitter jealousythat was the torment of her life.
"It was very kind of you to come," said Claire quietly; and there was acoldness in her manner that seemed to make Cora's jealousy glow morefiercely, for the fire flashed up, and the wistful affectionate lookseemed to be burning fast away.
It was only a matter of moments, though, for a change came over Claire.It was as if something within her whispered:
"Why should I be bitter and envious, and hate her for winning ahappiness that could never be mine."
With a quick movement and a low hysterical cry, she threw her arms roundCora's neck and hid her face in her bosom, sobbing bitterly at first;and then, as Cora held her tightly in her embrace, and soothed andcaressed her, the sobs grew less violent, the tears fell more slowly,and at last she raised her face and gazed in her friend's eyes, offeringher lips with a simple child-like motion for the kiss in which they werejoined--
"Oh--oh--oh--oh! Don't you take any notice of me, my dears," burstforth Mrs Barclay. "It's only my foolishness, but I couldn't keep itback. There, there," she cried in a choking voice, "I'm better now--I'mgetting better now. I couldn't help it though. There!"
She dabbed her eyes with her scented handkerchief, and beaming on bothin turns, she gave first one and then the other a hug full of affection.
"It does me good, my dears, to see you both real friends at last; andnow let's be sensible and chat together till I've finished these jools,and then we'll have a nice strong cup of tea."
Neither Claire nor Cora spoke, but sat with full hearts, and with afeeling of relief stealing over them as their hostess prattled on,opening case after case, and drawing the book to herself so as not totrouble Claire.
"Look at those, my dears; real choice pearls. Ain't they lovely?" shesaid as she took out a ring from its tiny box. "They're small, butthey're as good as good. Pearls always go best on dark people. Nowjust you try that on, Cora Dean, my dear. No; that finger's a littletoo large, and that's too small. That's it to a T; just a fit."
"It is beautiful," said Cora, admiring the pearls. "Look, Claire."
"Yes," said Claire, smiling; "they are very beautiful."
"Not as you want jools on you, my dear," said Mrs Barclay, "with aface, and rich red mouth, and throat, and hair, like you have. You wantno jools to make you handsome as handsome can be."
"Oh, yes, I do, Mrs Barclay; and I did not know that you had taken toflattery," cried Cora, laughing.
"'Tain't flattery, my dear, it's truth," said Mrs Barclay; "and I can'tsay which is the handsomer--you or Claire Denville there--for you'reboth right in your own ways. You neither of you want jools."
"I do, Mrs Barclay, and I mean to have this ring if it is for sale.How much is it? It's lovely."
"It is for sale, my dear," cried Mrs Barclay; "and you shall have itand pay for it."
"And the price?"
"The price is that you're to be a good true friend to Claire Denvillethere, as long as you live, and,"--a hearty smack on Cora's Juno-likered lips--"there's the receipt, my dear."
"But, Mrs Barclay--"
"Not another word, my dear," cried the plump lady. "There's the littlecase, and--there!" she continued, taking up a pen and writing, as shemuttered, "Half-hoop oriental pearl ring: Countess of Dinster. S-o-l-d.There."
She looked up, smiling with satisfaction, and busily opened anothercase.
"But, really, Mrs Barclay," began Cora, "such an expensive ring."
"Why, bless your heart, my dear, you don't think I look upon such athing as that as expensive. Why, I've only to say to my Jo-si-ah I wanta set of diamonds, and if they were worth a couple of thousand poundshe'd give 'em to me directly. There, I won't hear no more. These arenice, ain't they, my dears? Emeralds--real."
She held up a glittering green suite.
"Look at the flaws in them. Shows how good they are. Look at thesesapphires and diamonds mixed, too. They're worth a good thousand, theyare."
She spread out the beautiful stones, and Cora's eyes glistened withpleasure as case after case was opened, for it was a feast for her thatshe thoroughly enjoyed, while Claire sat looking on listless and sadtill the task was nearly done.
"I wouldn't spend so much time over them, my dears," said Mrs Barclay,"only I think you like seeing 'em. There, now, there's only these threelots to open."
She took a wash-leather bag and opened it, to pour out somerough-looking crystals into her hand, as if it had been grain at acorn-market.
"Rough diamonds, dear," she said to Cora; and, pouring them back, sheretied the bag, and took the other and served it the same. "Seedpearls, those are, and worth more than you'd think."
This bag was also retied and placed in the safe, nothing being left butthe canvas packet.
"Ah!" said Mrs Barclay, "I always mean to get a case made for this lot,every time I see them. They're not much good, but it would set themoff."
As she spoke she untied the bag, turned it over, and, taking hold of thebottom, shook out on the table a necklet, cross, tiara, and pair ofbracelets, which tinkled as they fell on the table.
"You'll spoil them," said Cora, taking up the tiara admiringly.
"Spoil them? Not I, my dear. You couldn't spoil them."
"But they are very beautiful," said Cora, taking up the cross by thelittle ring at the top. "Look, Claire dear. Why, I--"
Claire turned her eyes upon them slowly, and then her countenancechanged, and she uttered a cry:
"Lady Teigne's diamonds!"
Volume Three, Chapter XXIV.
THE SELLER OF THE GEMS.
"Lady Teigne's diamonds!" exclaimed Claire.
"Nonsense, my dear!" said Mrs Barclay. "They're not. Now don't youget letting your poor head run upon them. Whoever did that dreadfuldeed took them up to London, and sold 'em, or sent 'em to Amsterdam."
"But they are," cried Claire, growing more excited. "I am sure of it.I know them so well."
As she spoke she seized the jewels, and turned them over and over withfeverish haste, her face convulsed with horror.
"Nonsense, nonsense, my dear child," said Mrs Barclay.
"It is very curious," said Cora, looking at the ornaments eagerly. "Iseem to have seen them before."
"Some like 'em, my dear. Lots of 'em are made and sold."
"Mrs Barclay, I know those are Lady Teigne's diamonds," cried Claireagain.
"And I know they are not, my dear child. I'll tell you why: they're notdiamonds at all, only some fairish imitations--paste--that my Jo-si-ahbought."
"No, no," persisted Claire; "they are valuable diamonds."
"Well, my dear, I'm not a clever woman at all; but I've had so much todo with precious stones that I can't help telling 'em directly. There'snothing valu'ble about them but the silver setting, and if you melt thatdown there isn't ten pounds' worth in the lot."
"Mrs Barclay--"
"Ah, I'm right, my dear. Those aren't diamonds, but paste; and Iremember Josiah saying when I laughed at him, and asked him if he hadbeen taken in--I remember him saying that they were a good-looking lot,and he should keep 'em to let on hire to some lively lady who wanted asuite, and whom he didn't care to trust with diamonds. There, now, areyou satisfied?"
"No," cried Claire. "I am certain that I am right. That cross! I knowit so well. I've had it in my hands a hundred times. Those bracelets,
too. I have often clasped them on Lady Teigne's wrists."
"And put that ornament in her hair, and the other thing round her neck?"said Mrs Barclay, smiling.
"Yes, often; so often," cried Claire. "Oh, tell me what this means. Ofwhom did you buy them?"
"Well, that I can't say,