The Master of the Ceremonies Part 109

Volume Three, Chapter XIV.

FRED DENVILLE FORWARD.

"What do you say, my dear--another of those mad fits of excitement as soon as my name's mentioned? Oh, it's too bad. I don't think I've ever been rake enough to deserve it. Well, whether or no, I must go and see him. I can't stop away. I'm his eldest son, and a man's a man even if he is a common soldier, and has disgraced himself in the eyes of society."

"Fred dear, I'm broken-hearted," sobbed Claire, as she nestled close to her brother, and hid her face in his breast, neither seeing nor hearing Mr and Mrs Barclay open the door and cross the room, the latter making a sign to the dragoon not to take any notice of them, and as soon as she was alone with her husband, saying indignantly:

"The scandalous old hags, making out that the poor dear was carrying on with a common soldier. Lor'! Jo-si-ah, what a little wickedness there would seem to be in the world if everything was properly explained."

"Well, I don't know so much about that," replied Barclay. "Perhaps we should find out some of the very innocent ones were not so good as they seemed."

"I shall go on at once and see the old man," said Fred Denville, kissing his sister tenderly. "I can't stop away. The old fellow will be calmer perhaps to-day; and, Claire, my girl, I'm going to try and get my discharge, and start a new life. It's a strange thing if I can't keep a home for you and take care of you. I can't stand this soldiering any longer. Servant to that blackguard, Rockley! Has he spoken to you lately?"

"No, Fred," said Claire wearily. "No."

"I can't stand it, girl. It's a shame to talk of my beggarly troubles now, but it's precious hard to be meeting one's own brother--one's superior officer--and him not to know me. Has Morton been to see father?"

"N-no, dear; not yet."

"Curse him!"

"Fred!--dear Fred!"

"Well, no, I won't curse him. It's the boy's training, not his nature.

He ought not to cut the poor old man, though, in his disgrace. Claire, d.a.m.n it all; I don't believe father killed that old thing."

He looked at his sister with a quick intelligent gaze, full of conviction; but as he met her full in the eyes, and saw the change that came over her countenance, the conviction seemed blunted, and he shuddered.

"She believes it!" he muttered. Then aloud: "Why, Claire!"

"Hush--don't--don't speak to me--don't say anything," she panted.

"Fred, shall I be dragged before the judge and be forced to answer questions--horrible questions?"

He was silent.

"You believe I shall. You think I shall," she panted. "Oh, Fred, Fred, I would sooner die."

He drew a long breath, and looked at her in a horrified way, while she seemed to be growing wild with dread.

"I could not bear it," she cried, "to go up before those people and condemn my own father. It would be too horrible. It would be against nature. I could not, I would not speak."

"Hush, little sister," said Fred tenderly. "You are growing wild.

Perhaps you will not have to go. Perhaps they will find out the right man before the time--hush!--hush!"

Claire had uttered a piteous cry full of despair, as she buried her face in her hands.

"I cannot bear it--I cannot bear it," she cried. "There, go--go and see him," she said quickly. "You must go. It would be too cruel to stay away from him now he is so low in spirit. Be gentle with him, Fred, if he says hard things to you; and pray--pray don't resent them. You will bear everything for my sake--say that you will."

"Of course, of course."

"Trouble and misery have made him irritable, and so that he hardly knows what he says at times."

"Poor old fellow!" said the dragoon sadly. "Ah, Claire, my little girl, it did not want this trouble in our unhappy home."

He kissed her very tenderly, and then, as if moved by some sudden impulse, he took her in his arms again and held her to his breast, whilst she clung to him as if he were her only hope, and so they remained in silence for a time.

At last he loosed himself from her embrace, and stood over her as she crouched down upon the sofa.

"I'm going there now, Claire," he said, "but before I go, have you anything to say to me about that night of the murder? Is there anything I ought to know, so as to be able to talk to the old man about his defence? Will he tell me all he knows about the affair--why, Claire, child, what is the matter--are you going wild?"

He caught her two hands, and held her, startled by the change which had come over her, as she shrank from him in horror, with eyes dilated, face drawn and lips apart.

"There, my little girl," he said, with rough tenderness, "I ought to have known better than to talk to you about it. Perhaps all will come right yet after all."

Claire seemed to be so prostrated that it was some time before he attempted to leave her, and then it was upon her urging, for she seemed at last to rouse herself to action, and with feverish haste bade him go.

"It is your duty, Fred," she said agitatedly, "but--but don't question him--don't say a word to him. Only go to him as the son to the father in terrible distress. Let him speak to you if he will."

"But his defence, girl, his defence. Something must be done, and I am without a guinea in the world."

"Mr Barclay--Mr Linnell are arranging that without his knowledge,"

said Claire. "I had forgotten to tell you, Fred: my head seems confused and strange."

"No wonder, little one," he said. "Ah, I like that Barclay. One never knows who are our friends until trouble comes--and young Linnell. It isn't a time to talk about such things now, Clairy; but young Linnell's a good fellow, and he thinks a great deal of you."

Claire joined her hands as if begging him to be silent, and he once more kissed her, and after begging Mrs Barclay to watch over her, hurried away.

Volume Three, Chapter XV.

FATHER AND SON.

James Bell, dragoon, otherwise Fred Denville, the disgraced prodigal of the Master of the Ceremonies' home, had a couple of shillings in his pocket as he strode towards the prison; and as he was on his way, low-spirited and despondent at the troubles of his house, a great thirst came upon him, and he felt that he could never go through the scene he had to encounter without a stimulant in some form.

Then he thought of what a curse drink was to him, and how he could not take one gla.s.s without wanting another, and many others, and with this thought he manfully pa.s.sed the first public-house.

But, as he pa.s.sed, the door was swung open, and the hot, spiritous odour of strong drinks floated out and half maddened him.

"Just one gla.s.s would tighten me up," he muttered, "and I could go through with it better."

He thought of his last interview with his father, their struggle, and how he had nearly struck him, and he shrank from what was to come.

"I can't help it," he said. "I must have a drop. It will steady a fellow's nerves. Good G.o.d! how horrible to go and see that old man charged with murder."

He had thought a great deal about it before, but now the whole affair struck him as if in a new light, and the examinations, the trial, and the following of that trial came upon him with a terrible force that frightened him. It had never seemed so horrible before, and he burst out in a cold perspiration as in imagination he saw the white bared head of the old man, with wild eyes and ghastly face--saw him in the grey of some chilly morning, pinioned and with the white-robed priest by his side, walking towards--

It was too horrible! A curious feeling of blind terror made him shiver and hurry on, as something seemed to whisper in his ear, "He did murder that wretched old woman, and he must suffer for his crime."

"Curse me, I must have some brandy, or I shall never be able to face him," he gasped, as he strode on, no longer the stern, upright, well-built cavalry soldier, but a bent, trembling man, at whom more than one pa.s.ser-by looked askance. He even reeled, and albeit perfectly sober, he evoked comments upon "these drunken soldiers" in the streets.