The Master of the Ceremonies

help."

  Claire darted a grateful look at Linnell, and then drew back with paindepicted in her countenance, mingled with pride and mortification as shesaw the coldness in his manner towards her.

  "I must repeat what I said, Mr Linnell," said Denville in a low, painedvoice. "I want no counsel. I will have none, but I thank you all thesame, Mr Barclay. Claire, my child, you will pardon me. I must speakwith Mr Barclay."

  Claire shrank into one corner of the cell, her brow drawn with the paininflicted upon her as her father kept reverting to his old displays ofdeportment and mincing ways--ways that had become so habitual that evennow, incongruous as they were, he could not quite throw them off.

  "You need not go, Mr Linnell," he continued, "that is if you will bearwith the pain of listening to a dying man's request. We have never beenfriends, sir, but I am your debtor now for your kindly act. My dearBarclay, the little drama of my poor life is nearly over; the curtain isabout to fall. You have known me long--my little ambitious hopes anddisappointments. I cannot say to my child there is a home for her withher sister; will you help her when--you know what I would say?"

  "Denville, old fellow, I don't know what to say to this," said Barclayquickly. "It's a mystery to me. Damn it, sir, I can't believe youkilled that old woman even now. I want to get you counsel who willclear you, sir, and throw the deed on to whoever did it--some oneunknown."

  "Hush!--hush! Pray hush!" cried Denville, shuddering. "We are wastingtime. Barclay--my daughter."

  "My dear old fellow," said the money-lender quickly, "I told you that mywife had gone on to your place to see Miss Claire there. Don't you beafraid for her. She has a friend in Mrs B who will never fail her.Friend? She will prove a mother. Don't you trouble about Miss Claire.There's only one obstacle to her having a happy home, and that's me,and--"

  He stopped short, for his voice had turned husky, and grippingDenville's hand very tightly, he held it for a few minutes.

  "God bless her sweet face!" he whispered; "we never believed one of themiserable scandals about her, Denville. But now about yourself."

  Denville turned away his face, took a couple of steps to the side, andstood with his back to them for a few minutes. Then, turning, with hisface wearing a curious look of calm, he laid his hand upon Barclay'sarm.

  "You have taken away the bitterness of death, Barclay," he said in a lowvoice. "Heaven help me for the weakest of men. I never knew who weremy friends."

  "Then you will let us get counsel for you?"

  "No, no! I forbid it," said Denville sternly. "Good-bye, Mr Linnell.I thank you. Barclay, God bless you!"

  His voice trembled as he pressed the money-lender's hand, for the gaolerhad opened the door, and was waiting to usher them out.

  "Claire, my child," he whispered, taking her in his arms, "you will comeagain. Good-bye now. Good-bye."

  She clung to him wildly for a few moments, and then, with a look ofdesolation in her eyes, slowly followed the gaoler and the othervisitors along the echoing stone passages to the gate, where Linnelllaid his hand upon her arm.

  Before he could speak there was a rustle of a silk dress, a hurriedpanting as some one brushed by him, and a voluble voice exclaimed:

  "They wouldn't let me in, my dear, and I've been waiting for you tocome. There, there, there, you and May are coming home along with me,and--"

  Her voice died away as Linnell stood there, feeling desolate and cold.There was an intense bitterness in his heart, as he told himself thathis love for Claire was of a very poor type, that he had been ready tobelieve ill of her, and let that love become chilled. What had he donenow that she was plunged into the very depths of despair? Almost heldaloof when he would have given all he had--life itself--to save her fromher pain.

  "I am mad, jealous, weak, and contemptible," he cried to himself atlast. "I will go to her and tell her I love her more than ever. It isnot too late."

  He had taken a step to follow, when a hand was laid upon his arm, andBarclay said huskily:

  "There's a woman for you, Mr Linnell, sir. I often think she ought tohave had a better husband. There, the best thing is to let them alonetogether. You wouldn't think it, Mr Linnell, with me, such a hard nutas I am, but this business has quit upset me. Good-day, sir, good-day."

  "Good-day, Mr Barclay," said Linnell dreamily; and they were parting,when Barclay said in a low quick whisper:

  "You may think of some way of helping the old fellow, Mr Linnell. Ifyou do there's any amount of money ready for the lawyers, if you give mea hint. For he's an innocent man, sir. Kill that old woman? Pho!Pooh! Stuff! He couldn't kill a cat!"

  Volume Three, Chapter XIV.

  FRED DENVILLE FORWARD.

  "What do you say, my dear--another of those mad fits of excitement assoon as my name's mentioned? Oh, it's too bad. I don't think I've everbeen rake enough to deserve it. Well, whether or no, I must go and seehim. I can't stop away. I'm his eldest son, and a man's a man even ifhe is a common soldier, and has disgraced himself in the eyes ofsociety."

  "Fred dear, I'm broken-hearted," sobbed Claire, as she nestled close toher brother, and hid her face in his breast, neither seeing nor hearingMr and Mrs Barclay open the door and cross the room, the latter makinga sign to the dragoon not to take any notice of them, and as soon as shewas alone with her husband, saying indignantly:

  "The scandalous old hags, making out that the poor dear was carrying onwith a common soldier. Lor'! Jo-si-ah, what a little wickedness therewould seem to be in the world if everything was properly explained."

  "Well, I don't know so much about that," replied Barclay. "Perhaps weshould find out some of the very innocent ones were not so good as theyseemed."

  "I shall go on at once and see the old man," said Fred Denville, kissinghis sister tenderly. "I can't stop away. The old fellow will be calmerperhaps to-day; and, Claire, my girl, I'm going to try and get mydischarge, and start a new life. It's a strange thing if I can't keep ahome for you and take care of you. I can't stand this soldiering anylonger. Servant to that blackguard, Rockley! Has he spoken to youlately?"

  "No, Fred," said Claire wearily. "No."

  "I can't stand it, girl. It's a shame to talk of my beggarly troublesnow, but it's precious hard to be meeting one's own brother--one'ssuperior officer--and him not to know me. Has Morton been to seefather?"

  "N-no, dear; not yet."

  "Curse him!"

  "Fred!--dear Fred!"

  "Well, no, I won't curse him. It's the boy's training, not his nature.He ought not to cut the poor old man, though, in his disgrace. Claire,damn it all; I don't believe father killed that old thing."

  He looked at his sister with a quick intelligent gaze, full ofconviction; but as he met her full in the eyes, and saw the change thatcame over her countenance, the conviction seemed blunted, and heshuddered.

  "She believes it!" he muttered. Then aloud: "Why, Claire!"

  "Hush--don't--don't speak to me--don't say anything," she panted."Fred, shall I be dragged before the judge and be forced to answerquestions--horrible questions?"

  He was silent.

  "You believe I shall. You think I shall," she panted. "Oh, Fred, Fred,I would sooner die."

  He drew a long breath, and looked at her in a horrified way, while sheseemed to be growing wild with dread.

  "I could not bear it," she cried, "to go up before those people andcondemn my own father. It would be too horrible. It would be againstnature. I could not, I would not speak."

  "Hush, little sister," said Fred tenderly. "You are growing wild.Perhaps you will not have to go. Perhaps they will find out the rightman before the time--hush!--hush!"

  Claire had uttered a piteous cry full of despair, as she buried her facein her hands.

  "I cannot bear it--I cannot bear it," she cried. "There, go--go and seehim," she said quickly. "You must go. It would be too cruel to stayaway from him now he is so low in spirit. Be gentle with him, Fred, ifhe says hard things
to you; and pray--pray don't resent them. You willbear everything for my sake--say that you will."

  "Of course, of course."

  "Trouble and misery have made him irritable, and so that he hardly knowswhat he says at times."

  "Poor old fellow!" said the dragoon sadly. "Ah, Claire, my little girl,it did not want this trouble in our unhappy home."

  He kissed her very tenderly, and then, as if moved by some suddenimpulse, he took her in