The Master of the Ceremonies Part 87

"Give me till to-morrow, Claire. Don't you see I am all confused, and mad with grief?"

"Till to-morrow?" said Claire, gazing at her, for it was like a respite to her as well, in her horrible doubt and confusion of intellect.

"Yes, till to-morrow. I will shut myself up in my room till then, and try and think out what will be best. There, go now. I can't talk to you; I can't think; I can't do anything till you are gone; and I must have time."

Claire left her at last unwillingly, but with the understanding that May was to stay in her own room till the next day, and await her return.

"It will all come right at last, Claire," said May, at parting. "It always does, dear. There, don't fidget. It's very tiresome of him to come now; but I don't know: perhaps it's all for the best."

She kissed Claire affectionately at parting; and the latter sighed as she hurried home, struggling with herself as to how she should make all this known to her father.

"He must know," she said; and she entered the dining-room at once, to find that he was absent, though he had been home while she was away.

"Master said he had some business to transact, ma'am, and would have a chop at the a.s.sembly Rooms. You were not to wait dinner."

Claire went to her own room to think.

May had, in accordance with her promise, gone to hers; then she had written a brief note, ordered the carriage, and gone for a drive, closely veiled. One of her calls was at Miss Clode's, where she entrusted her note, not to some volume to be sold, but to Miss Clode's round-eyed, plump-cheeked niece, who promised to deliver it at once.

END OF VOLUME TWO.

Volume Three, Chapter I.

MISS CLODE IS MYSTERIOUS.

Richard Linnell had left his quiet, patient-looking father busily copying a sheet of music, and joined Colonel Mellersh, who was waiting at the door ready for a stroll.

Cora Dean's ponies were in the road, and that lady was just about to start for a drive.

Somehow, her door opened, and she came rustling down, closing her ears to a petulant call from her mother, and--perhaps it was an accident--so timed her descent that it would be impossible for the gentlemen to avoid offering to hand her to the carriage.

They both raised their hats as they stood upon the step, and she smiled and looked at Richard Linnell, but he did not stir.

"Come, d.i.c.k," said Mellersh, with a half-sneer; "have you forgotten your manners?"

Linnell started, offered his arm, which was taken, and he led Cora down to the little carriage, the ponies beginning to stamp as the groom held their bits, while the bright, smiling look of their mistress pa.s.sed away.

"The ponies look rather fresh," said Richard Linnell, trying to be agreeable. "I should have their bearing reins tightened a little."

"Why?" said Cora sharply, and with a glance full of resentment: and, at the same moment, she noted that Mellersh was leaning against the door-post, looking on.

"Why?" repeated Linnell, smiling in her face--but it was not the smile she wished to see--"for fear of another accident, of course."

"What would you care?" she said in a low whisper. "I wish there would be another accident. Why didn't you let me drown? I wish I were dead."

She gave her ponies a sharp lash, the groom leaped aside, caught the back of the carriage, and swung himself up into his seat, and away they dashed at a gallop, while Linnell stood gazing after them, till Mellersh laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"d.i.c.k, d.i.c.k," he said banteringly, "what a fierce wooer you are! You have been saying something to offend the fair Cora. Come along."

"Does it give you pleasure to banter me like this?"

"Banter, man? I was in earnest."

They walked along the parade in silence, and had not gone far before they met the Master of the Ceremonies, who raised his hat stiffly, in response to their salutes, and pa.s.sed on.

"Oh, man, man, why don't you take the good the G.o.ds provide you, instead of sighing after what you cannot have."

"Mellersh," said Richard, as if he had not heard him, "if I make up my mind to leave Saltinville, will you pay a good deal of attention to the old man?"

"Leave--Saltinville?"

"Yes; I am sick of the place. I must go right away."

"Stop a moment! Hold your tongue! There is that scoundrel, Rockley, with his gang."

In effect, a group of officers came along in the opposite direction, and, but for the disposition shown them to avoid a quarrel, their offensive monopolisation of the whole of the path would have resulted in an altercation.

"I shall have to cripple that fellow," said Mellersh, as they walked on, after turning out into the road in pa.s.sing the group. "I wonder young Denville does not shoot him for his goings on with his sister."

"Mellersh!"

"I can't help it, d.i.c.k; I must speak out. Rockley is indefatigable there. The fellow is bewitched with her, and is always after her."

"It's a lie!" exclaimed Linnell.

"Call me a liar if you like, d.i.c.k, my lad. I shan't send you a challenge. Plenty of people will satisfy you as to the truth of what I say, and I speak thus plainly because I am weary of seeing you so infatuated with Claire Denville."

Linnell tried to draw his arm away, but the Colonel retained it.

"No, no, my dear boy, we cannot quarrel," he said. "It is impossible.

But about this going away. Right. I would go. It will cure you."

"Cure me?" said Linnell bitterly.

"Yes, cure you. d.i.c.k, my boy, it makes me mad to see you so blind--to see you let a woman who looks guileless lead you--Well, I'll say no more. I cannot believe in Claire Denville any more than I can in her little innocent-looking jade of a sister."

Linnell uttered an impatient e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

"She goes about with a face as round-eyed as a baby's, and as smooth; while all the time I know--"

Linnell turned to him a look so full of agony that he ceased on the instant, but began again.

"I cannot help it, d.i.c.k," he said. "It worries me to see you growing so listless over a pa.s.sion for a woman who does not care a straw for you."

"If I could believe that," said Linnell, "I could bear it; but I am tortured by doubts, and every friend I have seems to be bent upon blackening the reputation of a woman who has been cruelly maligned."

Mellersh began to whistle softly, and then said, sharply: