The Master of the Ceremonies Part 82

"Yes, and faster, you fools. On, quick! What's that?"

"Sounds like horses, sir, coming on behind."

"Oh, not after us, but go on as fast as you can."

The chaise rumbled on as the window was drawn up, and the sound of the horses deadened; but Rockley let down the window on his side of the vehicle and thrust out his head.

As he did so Cora listened intently, and made out the beating of horses'

hoofs behind, now dying out, now louder, now dying out again, but always heard; and her heart gave a joyful bound as the thought came that an alarm might have been given by Morton Denville, and these be friends in pursuit--Richard Linnell perhaps.

Her heart sank like lead. No; she was not afraid of Major Rockley, and she did not care a fig for the opinion of Saltinville society. She had been carried off against her will, and the sneers would be those against Rockley, not against her.

The chaise might go on for hours--all night, if the Major liked. The longer it was before he discovered his mistake the greater his rage would be. What was there to fear? If she shrieked the postboys must come to her help, or she could command help at the next stopping-place.

And the hors.e.m.e.n coming on?

Yes, they were evidently gaining ground, but it was not to overtake her.

He was trying to save the woman he loved--he, Richard Linnell--and her heart sank lower and lower still.

Then it gave a bound, for there was the click-click of a pistol, just as before now she had heard it on the stage, and Rockley said:

"That's right. I'm glad you are quiet. I've got you, and, by Jove, I'll shoot the man who tries to get you away as I would a dog."

Volume Two, Chapter XXIX.

A LITTLE GOSSIP.

That hat which the Master of the Ceremonies raised so frequently to the various visitors looked in its solidity as if it might very well become an heirloom, and descend to his son, should he in more mature life take to his father's duties.

Stuart Denville had just replaced it for about the twentieth time that morning, when he encountered Lady Drelincourt in her chair.

Her ladyship had been very cold since her visit to the Denvilles, but this particular morning she was all smiles and good humour.

"Now, here you are, Denville, and you'll tell me all about it. You were there?"

"Yes, dear Lady Drelincourt," said Denville, with his best smile, as he thought of Morton and his possible future. "I was there. At--er--"

"Pontardent's, yes. Now, tell me, there's a good man, all about it. Is the Major much hurt? Now, how tiresome! What do you want, Bray? You are always hunting me about with that wicked boy."

"No, no," said Sir Matthew, in his ponderous fashion. "Drawn, Lady Drelincourt, drawn. Attracted, eh, Payne?"

Sir Harry Payne--"that wicked boy," as he was termed by her ladyship-- declared upon his reputation that Sir Matthew Bray was quite right. It was attraction.

"I felt it myself, demme, that I did, horribly, madam; but I said I would be true to my friend Bray, here, and I fled from temptation like a man."

"I'm afraid I can't believe you--either of you," said her ladyship, simpering. "But, now, do tell me--no, no, don't go, Denville; I want to talk to you. Sir Harry, now was Major Rockley, that dreadful Mephistopheles, half killed?"

Sir Harry Payne screwed up his face, shook his head, took snuff loudly, and, raising his hat, walked away.

"How tantalising!" cried Lady Drelincourt. "Now, Bray, do tell me. Is it true that he was carrying off that Miss Dean, and her mother sent Colonel Mellersh and Mr Linnell to fetch them back?"

"Mustn't tell. Can't say a word, dear Lady Drelincourt.

Brother-officer, you see. But--"

Sir Matthew Bray blew out his cheeks, frowned, rolled his eyes, pursed up his lips, and looked as if he were fully charged with important information which honour forbade him to part with, ending by shaking his head at her ladyship, and then giving it a solemn nod.

"I knew I was right," said her ladyship triumphantly. "Now, didn't you hear the same version, Denville?"

"Well, I--must confess, your ladyship--that I--er--did."

"Of course. That's it. Well, Rockley's a very, very wicked man, and I don't think I shall ever speak to him again. I've quite done with him.

Yes, you may stay a little while, Bray, but not long. People are so scandalous. Good-bye, Denville. Is your little girl quite well?"

Denville declared that she was in the best of health; and, as Lady Drelincourt was wheeled away in one direction, so much fashionable lumber, the Master of the Ceremonies went mincing in the other.

Saltinville boasted of about a dozen versions of the scandal, one of the most popular being that which was picked up at Miss Clode's. In this version Cora Dean had no part, but Claire Denville had.

For a whole week these various accounts were bandied about and garbled and told, till the result of the mixture was very singular, and it would have puzzled an expert to work out the simple truth. Then something fresh sprang up, and the elopement or abduction--n.o.body at last knew which, or who were the princ.i.p.als--was forgotten, especially as Rockley was seen about as usual, and the proprietor of the chaise and the killed horse was fully recompensed by the Major. How he obtained the money, he and Josiah Barclay best knew.

But Stuart Denville was disappointed with respect to his daughter's prospects. It was sheer pleasure to her to be able to stay quietly at home; but her father bitterly regretted the absence of invitation cards, while he, for one, remained strangely in ignorance that it was his own child who was nearly carried off that night.

Volume Two, Chapter x.x.x.

A TERRIBLE RESURRECTION.

"A gentleman to see you, ma'am."

"To see me, Isaac?" said Claire, starting in terror, and with a strange foreboding of ill. "Who is it? Did he give his name?"

"No, miss; he would not give any name. Said it was on important business. He asked for Miss May first."

"For Miss May?"

"Yes, ma'am; and I told him she was married, and did not live here now; and he smiled, and said 'Of course.' Then he said he would see you."

Claire had risen, and she stood listening to the man, clutching the chair tightly, and striving hard to seem composed.

"Where is he, Isaac?" she asked, hardly knowing what fell from her lips.

"In the dining-room, ma'am."

"I will come down."

Isaac left the room, and Claire drew a long breath.

Who could it be? Some one who had forgotten that May was married, and then recalled it! What did it mean?

She stood with her hands tightly clasped, gazing straight before her, and then walked quickly to the door, and down into the dining-room, so quietly that the short, slight man gazing out of the window did not hear her entrance.