The Master of the Ceremonies Part 123

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 a happiness that could never be mine."

With a quick movement and a low hysterical cry, she threw her arms round Cora'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 and caressed 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, offering her lips with a simple child-like motion for the kiss in which they were joined--

"Oh--oh--oh--oh! Don't you take any notice of me, my dears," burst forth Mrs Barclay. "It's only my foolishness, but I couldn't keep it back. There, there," she cried in a choking voice, "I'm better now--I'm getting better now. I couldn't help it though. There!"

She dabbed her eyes with her scented handkerchief, and beaming on both in 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; and now 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 a feeling of relief stealing over them as their hostess prattled on, opening case after case, and drawing the book to herself so as not to trouble Claire.

"Look at those, my dears; real choice pearls. Ain't they lovely?" she said as she took out a ring from its tiny box. "They're small, but they're as good as good. Pearls always go best on dark people. Now just you try that on, Cora Dean, my dear. No; that finger's a little too 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 a face, and rich red mouth, and throat, and hair, like you have. You want no jools to make you handsome as handsome can be."

"Oh, yes, I do, Mrs Barclay; and I did not know that you had taken to flattery," cried Cora, laughing.

"'Tain't flattery, my dear, it's truth," said Mrs Barclay; "and I can't say which is the handsomer--you or Claire Denville there--for you're both 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 it and pay for it."

"And the price?"

"The price is that you're to be a good true friend to Claire Denville there, as long as you live, and,"--a hearty smack on Cora's Juno-like red lips--"there's the receipt, my dear."

"But, Mrs Barclay--"

"Not another word, my dear," cried the plump lady. "There's the little case, and--there!" she continued, taking up a pen and writing, as she muttered, "Half-hoop oriental pearl ring: Countess of Dinster. S-o-l-d.

There."

She looked up, smiling with satisfaction, and busily opened another case.

"But, really, Mrs Barclay," began Cora, "such an expensive ring."

"Why, bless your heart, my dear, you don't think I look upon such a thing as that as expensive. Why, I've only to say to my Jo-si-ah I want a set of diamonds, and if they were worth a couple of thousand pounds he'd give 'em to me directly. There, I won't hear no more. These are nice, 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 these sapphires and diamonds mixed, too. They're worth a good thousand, they are."

She spread out the beautiful stones, and Cora's eyes glistened with pleasure as case after case was opened, for it was a feast for her that she thoroughly enjoyed, while Claire sat looking on listless and sad till 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 three lots to open."

She took a wash-leather bag and opened it, to pour out some rough-looking crystals into her hand, as if it had been grain at a corn-market.

"Rough diamonds, dear," she said to Cora; and, pouring them back, she retied the bag, and took the other and served it the same. "Seed pearls, those are, and worth more than you'd think."

This bag was also retied and placed in the safe, nothing being left but the 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 them off."

As she spoke she untied the bag, turned it over, and, taking hold of the bottom, shook out on the table a necklet, cross, tiara, and pair of bracelets, 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 the little ring at the top. "Look, Claire dear. Why, I--"

Claire turned her eyes upon them slowly, and then her countenance changed, 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 you get letting your poor head run upon them. Whoever did that dreadful deed 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 with feverish 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. "I seem 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 Claire again.

"And I know they are not, my dear child. I'll tell you why: they're not diamonds at all, only some fairish imitations--paste--that my Jo-si-ah bought."

"No, no," persisted Claire; "they are valuable diamonds."