The Master of the Ceremonies
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life too."
"Fred! dear Fred!"
"Let it all be cleared up now--you two. You do love him, sis?"
"Fred! dear Fred!" she sobbed; "with all my heart."
"Ah!" he said softly, with a sigh of satisfaction. "Ask him to comehere. No; bring the old man back--and Morton. Don't cry, my littleone; it's--it's nothing now, only the long watch ended, and the time forrest."
In another hour he had fallen asleep as calmly as a weary child--sister,father, and brother at his side; and it seemed but a few hours later toMorton Denville that he was marching behind the bearers with the funeralmarch ringing in his ears, and the muffled drums awaking echoes in hisheart--a heart that throbbed painfully as the farewell volley was firedacross the grave.
For Fred Denville's sin against his officers was forgiven, and ColonelLascelles was one of the first to follow him to the grave.
Volume Three, Chapter XXVIII.
THE EVE OF THE FINISH.
"A letter, Claire, so painful that I shrank from reading it to you, onlythat I have no secrets from my promised wife."
"Does it give you pain?" said Claire, as she looked up in RichardLinnell's face, where they sat in the half-light of evening, with thesea spread before them--placid and serene as their life had been duringthe past few weeks.
"Bitter pain," he said sadly, as he gazed at the saddened face, set offby the simple black in which she was clothed.
"Then why not let me share it? Is pain so new a thing to me?"
"So old that I would spare you more; and yet you ought to know my familycares, as I have known yours."
"May I read?" said Claire softly, as she laid her thin white hand uponthe letter.
He resigned it to her without a word; but as she opened the folds:
"Yes; read it," he said. "It concerns you as much as it does me, andyou shall be the judge as to whether the secret shall be kept."
Claire looked up at him wonderingly, and then read the letter aloud.
It was a passionate appeal, and at the same time a confession and afarewell; and, as Claire read on, she grew the more confused andwondering.
For the letter was addressed to Richard Linnell, asking his forgivenessfor the many ways in which the writer, in her tender love and earnestdesire for his happiness, had stood between him and Claire, ready tospread reports against her fame, and contrive that Linnell should hearthem, since the writer had never thoroughly known Claire Denville'sheart, but had judged her from the standpoint of her sister. It hadbeen agony to the writer to see Linnell's devotion to a woman whom shebelieved to be unworthy of his love; and as his father's life had beenwrecked by a woman's deceit, the writer had sworn to leave no stoneunturned to save the son.
At times the letter grew sadly incoherent, and the tears with which ithad been blotted showed its truthfulness, as the writer prayed Richard'sforgiveness for fighting against his love and giving him such cruelpain.
"Colonel Mellersh will explain all to you," the letter went on, "for hehas known everything. It was he who saved me from further degradation,and found the money to buy this business, where I thought to live out myremaining span of life unknown, and only soothed by seeing you attimes--you whom I loved so dearly and so well."
Claire looked up from the letter wonderingly, but Linnell bade her readon.
"Colonel Mellersh fought hard against my wishes at first, but he yieldedat last out of pity. I promised him that I would never make myselfknown--never approach your father's home--and I have kept my word.Mellersh has absolved me now that I am leaving here for ever, and I goasking your forgiveness as your wretched mother, and begging you to askfor that of Claire Denville, the sweet, true, faithful woman whom youwill soon, I hope, make your wife.
"Lastly, I pray and charge you not to break the simple, calm happinessof your father's life by letting him know that his unhappy wife has foryears been living so near at hand."
"But, Richard," cried Claire, "I always thought that--that she wasdead."
"He told me so," replied Linnell sadly. "She was dead to him. There,you have read all. It was right that you should know. Colonel Mellershhas told me the rest."
Linnell crumpled up the letter, and then smoothed it out, and folded andplaced it in his breast.
"It is right," he said again, "that you should know the truth. Mellershis my father's oldest friend. They were youths together. When theterrible shock came upon my father that he was alone, and that his wifehad fled with a man whom he had made his companion after Mellersh hadgone upon foreign service, his whole life was changed, and he became thequiet, subdued recluse you see."
Linnell paused for a few minutes, and then went on:
"Mellersh had idolised my mother when she was a bright fashion-lovinggirl; but he accepted his fate when she gave the preference to myfather. When he came home from India and found what had happened, andthat this wretch had cast her off, he shot the betrayer of my father'sname, and then sought out and rescued my mother, placing her as you haveread, at her desire, here."
"But, Richard dear, I am so dull and foolish--I can only think of oneperson that this could possibly have been; and it could not be--"
"Miss Clode? Yes, that was the name she took. My mother, Claire. Whatdo you say to me now?"
Claire rose from her seat gently, and laid her hand upon her arm.
"We must keep her secret, Richard," she said; "but let us go to hertogether now."
"Then you forgive her the injury she did you?"
"It was out of love for you; and she did not know me then. Let us go."
"Impossible," he said, taking her in his arms. "She has left here forever. Some day we may see her, but the proposal is to come from her."
They did not hear the door open as they stood clasped in each other'sarms, nor hear it softly closed, nor the whispers on the landing, as oneof the visitors half sobbed:
"Ain't it lovely, Jo-si-ah? Did you see 'em? If it wasn't rude andwrong, I could stand and watch 'em for hours. It do put one in mind ofthe days when--"
"Hold your tongue, you stupid old woman," was the gruff reply. "It'squite disgusting. A woman at your time of life wanting to watch a pairof young people there, and no candles lit."
"Hush! Don't talk so loud, or they'll hear us; and now, Jo-si-ah, asit's in my mind, I may as well say it to you at once."
"Now, look here," said Barclay in a low voice, in obedience to hiswife's request, but speaking quickly, "I've been bitten pretty heavilyby the fellows in the regiment that has just gone, so if it's any newplan of yours that means money, you may stop it, for not a shilling doyou get from me. There!"
"And at your time of life, too! To tell such fibs, Jo-si-ah! Just asif I didn't know that you've made a profit of Sir Harry Payne alone,enough to cover all your losses. Now, look here: I don't like littleMrs Burnett, or Gravani, or whatever her name is, but seeing how she'sleft alone in the world, and nobody's wife after all, and poor MrDenville is poor Mr Denville, and it's a tax upon him, and you're outso much, I've been thinking, I say--"
"Wouldn't do, old lady. She's not the woman who would make our homecomfortable; and besides--"
"But she's so different, Jo-si-ah, since she has been getting nearlywell."
"Glad of it, old lady. Hope she'll keep so. But you forget that Clairewill soon be leaving home, and--"
"What a stupid old woman I am, Jo-si-ah! Why, of course! Her place isthere along with her father; and it's wonderful how he pets that littlechild. There now, I'm sure they've had long enough. Let's go in andtell them the news."
This time Mrs Barclay tapped at the door softly, before opening it halfan inch and saying:
"May we come in?"
Her answer was the door flung wide, and Claire's arms round her neck.
"We've come to tell you that we've just seen Lord Carboro', my dear, andhe told us that he'd heard about your brother from the Colonel of hisnew regiment, out in Gibraltar, and that he's getting on as well as canbe."
Volume Three,
Chapter XXIX.
A TALE THAT IS TOLD.
It was just such a visit that Mrs Barclay paid Claire Denville about afortnight later; and after one of her extremely warm embraces, sheexclaimed: "Guess."
"Guess what, Mrs Barclay?"
"Who's married. There, you needn't blush, my dear, because yours isfixed all right at last, but you'll never guess who."
"Then tell me," said Claire, smiling. "No, guess."
"I cannot. There are so many."
"Then I will