The Master of the Ceremonies Part 48

"Yes, ma'am, it's quite true," said Annie, with her mouth now full of cake.

Shot!--injured by Major Rockley! and she--she could not go down to him to wait upon him, and show him by her every act how she loved him.

A minute before she had been ready to bless Major Rockley. Now, curses were in her heart, as she thought of him raising his hand against Richard Linnell to strike him down.

"No, ma'am, he isn't very bad," Annie went on, in answer to a question of Mrs Dean.

"It can't be true," Cora said to herself, as her brain seemed to become a chaos of love, jealousy, hatred, and pride in the brave young fellow who had saved her life, and, civilian though he was, showed himself ready to meet such a notorious fire-eater as the Major.

Just then she gave a gasp, for she saw a stiff, military-looking man, whom she knew to be the regimental surgeon, come up to the door.

It was true, then; and it was all she could do to keep from bursting into an hysterical fit of sobbing.

But a thought came directly that gave her strength, and she felt joy and elation together as she said to herself:

"He found them together, and horsewhipped the Major. Well, so much the better. He can never think of Claire Denville again. If he did--"

She uttered a low unpleasant laugh, as Annie found that she must go back, for she could eat no more cake; and as soon as they were alone Mrs Dean exclaimed:

"Don't, for goodness' sake, laugh like that, my dear; it gives me the cold s.h.i.+vers all down my back. It's just like Metalina in 'The Haunted Vampire,' where she takes an oath as she'll kill her rival or perish in the attempt."

Volume Two, Chapter VIII.

MRS BARCLAY IS PUZZLED.

"Oh, my dear, and do you know how they're all a-talking about you?"

cried Mrs Barclay, as she sat panting beneath the florid portrait of May Burnett in the MC's shabby drawing-room.

Claire looked up appealingly in the pleasant, plump face, and her brow knit.

"You see, it all comes to me, my dear, and it worries me because I like you so."

"You were always very kind to me, Mrs Barclay."

"Not half so kind as I should like to be, my dear. I wanted to have you home when the mur--"

"Oh, hus.h.!.+"

"Of course, my dear. That's my way. So vulgar and thoughtless. Think of me now bringing that up to you who live here; and us sitting in the very next room."

"Mrs Barclay!"

"Yes, I won't say another word, my dear. Not that I believe in sperrits or anything of that kind. But you were saying about me being kind.

Why, you won't let me be, my dear. I'm sure the dresses I'd buy you, and the things I'd give you, if you'd let me, would make some of them stare."

"But I could not let you, Mrs Barclay," said Claire, smiling.

"No; you're so proud, my dear, that's it. You see, Josiah lets me have so much for housekeeping, that I've always plenty to spare; and as to jewellery, why, I might wash in diamonds if I liked, but I don't."

"Let us be as usual, Mrs Barclay," said Claire, with more animation, "and never mind about what people say, or fas.h.i.+on, or dress, or any of the nonsense."

"I'm sure I should like to be, my dear; but you being a motherless girl, I don't like to hear people talking about you."

Claire's face grew flushed.

"Don't look like that, Claire, my dear. I'm not cross with you, but when people talk about you being out walking with that horrid black Major Rockley, it hurts me."

"I could not help it, Mrs Barclay," said Claire.

"Then it's all true, then, about young Mr Linnell horse-whipping him?"

"Yes, yes; but this is so cruel to me. He did beat him for insulting me."

"Bless him then. I always liked him, my dear. How he must love you!"

"Oh, hush, hus.h.!.+" cried Claire, in agony.

"I don't see why. I'm sure he's everything that's good and brave; and you need not sob like that, my dear, for, from what I can hear, he isn't very badly hurt."

Claire started. A dread that had been hanging over her was beginning to a.s.sume form.

"But they say it's a mercy that the Major's bullet did not go an inch lower."

"Bullet? The Major! They have had a meeting?"

"Yes, my dear. I thought you must know, and I came to talk to you about even speaking to--there--there, what a woman I am. I came to do good, and I'm doing nothing but harm. Now, she's going to faint."

"No, no!" cried Claire agitatedly; "it is nothing. I am not going to faint, Mrs Barclay, indeed. There, you see, I am quite calm now."

"Yes, and I am sorry, my dear; but I am such a thoughtless woman.

Barclay's quite right; I haven't no head at all."

"No head?" said Claire, smiling, as she sat down close to her visitor and laid her hands upon her arm. "Perhaps it is because you have so much heart."

"Heart, my dear! why--no; I declare I'm most afraid to speak, for fear of saying something that may hurt your feelings."

"If you will not speak about--about--"

"Mr Linnell, my dear?"

"Yes, but only to tell me that he is not much hurt--you said so, did you not?" cried Claire.

"Yes, my dear; he's not much hurt. But, Claire, my dear, wouldn't it be better if you--so pretty and young as you are--did care very much for some one as nice and good as he is?"

"No, no," cried Claire excitedly. "Pray, pray say no more. It is impossible."

"Well, you know best, my dear," said Mrs Barclay sadly; "and you want me to talk about something else. Well, I'll talk about you, only you must not mind if I say something stupid. It's my way."