The Master of the Ceremonies Part 37

"I shall not forget this, Barclay," he said slowly, and, turning upon his heels, he walked out of the place beating his boot viciously with his whip.

"Oh, the monster!" cried Mrs Barclay, entering the room.

"Why, you've been listening."

"Well, didn't you leave the door open on purpose for me to listen, Jo-si-ah? Oh, what a bad, evil-looking man, Jo-si-ah. I believe he wouldn't stop at anything to get money from you now."

"Black mask and a pair of pistols, on a dark night in a country road, eh, old lady? Stand and deliver; money or your life, eh?"

"Well, you may laugh, Jo-si-ah; but he looks just the sort of man who wouldn't stop at anything. I am glad you wouldn't let him have any money, for I'm sure you'd never get it back."

"I don't know so much about that, old lady, but whether or no, I wasn't going to let him have any this morning. He has been short lately, and no mistake. Some one I know's making a nice thing out of them at the mess."

"Colonel Mellersh?"

"Mum!"

"Oh, there's no one to hear us now. But, I say, Jo-si-ah, why is he so friendly with Miss Clode?"

"Because she sells packs of cards, old girl."

"Ah, but there's something more than that. I went in there one day, and he had hold of her hand across the counter; and I could see, though she turned it off, that she had been crying."

"Asking her to wed, and let him succeed to the business," said Barclay, with a chuckle.

"Don't talk nonsense, Jo-si-ah. I wish I had a good, clear head like you, and was as clever, and then perhaps I could make this out."

"What?"

"About Miss Clode. I'm sure she has seen better days."

"That she has," said Barclay, chuckling. "She looks pretty shabby now, a newsy, gossiping old hag!"

"I don't dislike Miss Clode," said Mrs Barclay thoughtfully. "There's much worse in Saltinville."

"I dare say," he said, laughing. "I've only one thing against her."

"What's that?"

"She hates poor Claire Denville like poison."

Volume One, Chapter XXVII.

FISHERMAN d.i.c.k STARES.

Major Rockley had counted upon getting a hundred pounds from Barclay, and the refusal annoyed him to so great an extent that he determined upon having a sharp walk to calm himself. So setting off at a good rate towards the main cliff to reach the downs beyond the town, he had not gone far before he saw a graceful figure, in a white dress, with black scarf and plain straw bonnet going in the same direction.

"Claire Denville as I'm a sinner!" he cried, his pale cheeks flushing, and a curious light shining in his dark eyes.

"Yes, without doubt," he muttered. "Off for a walk to the downs. Lucky accident. At last!"

He checked himself, walking slowly, so as not to overtake her until she was well out of the town, and thinking that perhaps it would be as well to keep back until she turned, and then meet her face to face.

"The jade! How she has kept me at a distance. Refused my notes, and coquetted with me to make me more eager for the pursuit. The old man's lessons have not been thrown away. I'm to approach in due form, I suppose. Well, we shall see."

Claire went straight on, walking pretty quickly, and without turning her head to right or left. The streets were left behind; the row of houses facing the sea had come to an end; and she was getting amongst the fishermen's cottages, while below the cliff the fishing boats were drawn high up on the shingle, and long, brown filmy nets spread out to dry, looking like square shadows cast by invisible sails, and mingled with piles of tarred barrels, lobster baskets, and brown ropes, bladders and corks.

Every here and there, on the railing at the cliff edge, hung oilskins to soften in the sunshine, and in one place a giant appeared to be sitting astride the rail, with nothing to be seen of him but a huge pair of boots. Farther on fish were drying in the air, and farther still there came up a filmy cloud of grey smoke from the shingle, along with a pleasant smell of Stockholm tar, for Fisherman d.i.c.k was busy paying the bottom of a boat turned upside down below the cliff.

These matters did not interest Major Rockley any more than the grey gulls that wheeled overhead and descended, to drop with a querulous cry upon a low spit of shingle where the sea was retiring fast.

For the fluttering white dress took up all his attention, and now that they were well beyond the promenaders, he was about to hasten his steps--too impatient to wait until she turned--when he uttered an impatient oath, for Claire suddenly stopped by a cottage where a woman was sitting knitting a coa.r.s.e blue garment and nursing a little child.

It was all so sudden that it took the officer by surprise. The woman jumped up hastily on being spoken to, and curtseyed, and they went in at once, leaving the Major by the rails.

"Well, I can wait," he said, smiling and taking out his cigar-case. "I can study the tarring of boats till her ladyship appears."

He slowly chose and lit a cigar, and then, going close to the edge of the cliff, leaned upon the rails and gazed down at Fisherman d.i.c.k, who was working away busily, dipping his brush in a little three-legged iron pot, and carefully spreading the dark-brown odorous tar.

He was about forty feet below the Major, and for some time he went on steadily with his work, but all at once he stopped short, and turned his face upwards as if he felt that he was being watched; and as he did so his straw hat fell off and he stood fixed by the Major's eyes as if unable to move.

The sensation was mutual, for Major Rockley felt attracted by the dark, Spanish-looking face, and the keen eyes so intently fixed upon his.

"Confound the fellow! how he stares," said the Major, at last, as he seemed to wrench himself away, and turned his back.

As he did so, leaning against the rail, d.i.c.k Miggles drew a long breath, stared now at his iron tar-kettle, and carried it to the fire of old wreck-wood to re-heat it, as he stood by and thoughtfully scratched his head.

He looked up for a moment, and saw that the Major's back was towards him, and then bent over his kettle again, and began pushing half-burned sc.r.a.ps of wood beneath, making the fire roar and the pitch heat quickly, and he did not look up again till the Major had walked away, when he began to brush again at the boat as if relieved, ending by giving one leg a tremendous slap, and stopping short as if to think.

The Major had some time to wait, and he pa.s.sed a good deal of it walking up and down, as if watching a sail in the offing, till fortune favoured him; so that as he was approaching the cottage again, Claire came out quickly, and, seeing him, started and turned to walk in the other direction, out on the downs and round by the London Road into the town.

She repented on the instant, and wished that she had faced him boldly and pa.s.sed on. But she was excited and confused by her visit, which had to her a curious suggestion of wrong-doing in it; and she was leaving the place, feeling agitated and guilty, when, seeing the Major, she had turned sharply to walk on, trembling, and hoping that he had not seen her. The hope died out on the instant, for she heard his steps, with the soft _clink, clink_ of the rowels of his spurs; but he kept his distance till they were well beyond the cottages, and then rapidly closed up.

What would he think of her visit there? What would he say? were the questions Claire asked herself as she walked rapidly on to reach the stile that bounded the cornfield she would have to turn into and cross to get into the London Road; and all the time, _clink, clink--clink, clink_, those spurs rang on her ears, and came nearer and nearer.

The stile at last; and, trembling with eagerness, she was about to cross, when the Major pa.s.sed her quickly, leaped over, and turned smilingly to face her with:

"Allow me, my dear Miss Denville. We meet at last." END OF VOLUME ONE.

Volume Two, Chapter I.

AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN.

Claire shrank back for a moment, and her natural womanly timidity urged her to turn and hurry home by the way she had come.

But that would be showing Major Rockley that she was afraid of him, and this she wished to keep a secret in her own breast.

Bowing slightly, then, she declined the offer of his hand, stepped over the stile, and went on.