The Master of the Ceremonies

you mostdearly now that you are in this terrible trouble. Father, we must goaway together to some distant place where, in a life of contrition andprayer, we may appeal daily for the forgiveness that is given to thosewho seek."

  He gazed in her eyes with his lip quivering, and a terrible look ofdespair in his face.

  "Forgiveness for those who seek?"

  "Yes, from a merciful God. Oh, father, if I wring your heart in what Isay it is because I love you as your child."

  "Ah!"

  A piteous sigh escaped his lips, and his head sank down upon his breast.

  "You are silent," she cried reproachfully, "silent, when the time is soshort. I shall be dragged from your side directly, and you have notadvised me what to do. I must have money. I must get counsel for youand advice."

  He drew a long breath and raised his head, his lips parting but utteringno sound.

  "Yes!" she cried, "yes! Speak, father. Shall I go to Mr Barclay?"

  "No."

  "Then tell me what I shall do, dear. Pray rouse yourself from thisdespair. Speak--tell me. What shall I do first?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing? Oh, father!"

  "They say I committed this murder--that I crushed out the life of thatmiserable old woman. So be it."

  "Father!"

  "I say--so be it," he repeated firmly. "The law says one life mustanswer for another. Well--I am ready."

  Claire wrung her hands, as he rose from where he had knelt, and gazed athim in pitying wonder and awe.

  "God is merciful," said the old man mournfully. "He readeth all ourhearts. Claire, my child, I am not afraid to die. I am sick for therest that is to come."

  "But, father!" wailed Claire.

  "My child, I know. I have thought of all. I have seen everything inthe silence and darkness of this cell; but it is only a passing awayfrom this weary life to one that is full of rest and peace. There is noinjustice there."

  "Father, you madden me," whispered Claire hoarsely. "You must not giveup like this. Tell me what to do."

  "Think me innocent, my child," he said softly--"innocent of that crime.And now let us talk of yourself and your brother Morton."

  She noticed that he did not mention May's name.

  "It is very bitter," he said. "I had hoped to provide for my child, butI was not able. But there, you are stronger of mind than I, and youwill be protected. That woman, Mrs Barclay, loves you, my child. ButMorton, he is a mere boy, and weak--weak and vain, like his father, mychild--as I have been. Watch over him, Claire. Advise him when he isfalling away."

  "Oh, yes, yes, yes, father; but you--"

  "I shall be at rest, my child," he said sadly. "Do not think of me.Then there is--"

  He paused for a few moments with his lips quivering till he saw herinquiring eyes, and with a heavy sigh he went on.

  "--There is May."

  He paused again, to go on almost lightly, but she read the agony in hiseyes, and clung to his arm and held it to her breast.

  "This is like my will," he said, "the only one I shall make. There isMay. I have not been fair, my dear. I have given her all my love--toyour neglect. I have made her my idol, and--and--like her brotherMorton, she is very weak. Such a pretty child, beautiful as an angel.Claire dearest, I loved her so well, and it has been my punishment formy injustice to you."

  "Dearest father!"

  "Yes, I was unjust to you, but that is past. I pray your forgiveness,my child, as I say to you, I leave you the legacy of that boy and girl--that child-wife. Claire, you must forgive her, as I pray Him to forgiveme. Ignore the past, Claire, my child, and in every way you can beready to step between her and the evil that she goes too near. You willdo this?"

  "Oh, father, yes. But you? What shall I do now?"

  "Claire, only a few short weeks, and I shall be in my grave. Don'tstart, my child. To you, in your sweet spring of life, it is the blackpit of horror. To me, in the bitter winter of my life, there is nohorror there: it is but the calm, silent resting-place where tirednature sleeps and life's troubles end. There, there, my little one, towhose sweet virtues and truth I have been blind, I am almost contentwith my fate for the reason that you have awakened me from a trance intowhich I had fallen. Claire, my child, can you forgive this weak, vain,old man?"

  She leaned forward and kissed his white forehead, and, as he drew hercloser to him, she nestled in his breast, and clung to him, sobbingconvulsively.

  "Hah!" he sighed, "I did not know I could be so happy again. Think ofme as an innocent--an injured man, my child, as of one whose lips aresealed. Pray for me as I shall pray for you."

  "But, father, I may see Mr Barclay?"

  He was silent for a few minutes.

  "Yes," he said at last.

  Claire uttered a sigh of relief.

  "You shall ask him to come here. I will appeal to him to watch overyou. He is rough, Claire, and his wife is vulgar--coarse; but, God helpme! I wish I had had such a true and sterling heart. There, hush! Ihave made my will," he said, smiling. "It is done; I have but to sealit with my death, and I see its approach without a shade of fear."

  "But, father! my dearest father!"

  "My own," he said tenderly, as he kissed her and smiled down upon her."Ah! you do not shrink from me now. Sweet, true woman. Oh, that Icould have been so blind! You were going to ask me something."

  "Yes, dearest," she whispered; "I want you to forgive--"

  "May? Yes: she is forgiven. I forgive her, poor, weak child. Tell herthat I had but tender words for her even now. I would send hermessages, but of what avail would they be, even as the words of a dyingman? No; she has not the stability. It is more her failing than hersin. You were asking me to forgive her."

  "I knew you forgave her, dearest, but I want you to forgive poor Fred."

  He started from her as if he had been stung.

  "I saw him last night, and he begs and prays of you to forgive him andlet him come. Father, he loves you in spite of all this estrangement."

  "Silence!" cried the old man furiously. "Have I not said that I wouldnot hear his name?"

  "Father dearest, what have I done?" cried Claire, as she gazed in terrorat the convulsed features, at the claw-like hands, extended, clutching,and opening and shutting as the old man gasped for air.

  "Father! Oh, help!"

  A terrible purple colour suffused his face; his knotted veins startedupon his temples, and it seemed as if he were about to fall in a fit;but the paroxysm began to pass away. He caught at Claire's hand, andheld by it while with his other he signed to her to be silent, for justthen the clanking of bolts and locks was heard, and the door was thrownopen to admit Richard Linnell and Mr Barclay.

  Volume Three, Chapter XIII.

  UNDER BARCLAY'S SHELL.

  Denville grew composed at once, and taking Claire's hand, stood upfacing his visitors with a slight trace of the old manner returning, ashe bowed and pointed to the stool and bed.

  "Poor accommodation for visitors, gentlemen," he said; "but it is thebest I have to offer. Mr Barclay, Mr Linnell, will you be seated?"

  "Couldn't get to you before, Denville," said the money-lender, shakinghands warmly. "Terrible business this. Miss Claire, my dear, the wifehas gone to your house again. Taken some things with her; said sheshould stay."

  "Mr Denville, I am truly grieved," said Linnell, offering his hand,after giving Claire a grave, sad look. "Mr Barclay and I have come tosee of what service we can be to you."

  "Yes, yes, of course, Denville," cried Barclay briskly. "Bad business,this, but--eh, Mr Linnell?"

  "Miss Denville," said the latter, turning to Claire, "as we are about todiscuss business matters about counsel and your father's defence, wouldyou like to leave us?"

  "No," said Denville quickly, as he drew Claire's hand through his arm,and shook his head. "You will pardon me, gentlemen, but in the littlespace of time I am allowed to see visitors, I should like to keep mychild by my side. Gentlem
en--Mr Barclay--Mr Linnell--half an hour agoI said that I had no friends. I was wrong--I thank you for coming. Godbless you!"

  "Why, of course you had friends, Denville," cried Barclay. "You don'tsuppose because a man's hard and fast over money matters, that he has nobowels of compassion, do you? But now, business. About counsel foryour defence?"

  "I had already discussed the matter with my daughter, gentlemen.Counsel! It is useless. I need none."

  "Need none, Mr Denville?" cried Linnell quickly. "Pray think of whatyou are saying. You must have legal