The Master of the Ceremonies Part 50

"My lord!"

"Yes, sir; asked His Royal Highness, myself, and he said nothing would give him greater pleasure. Denville, your son has a commission in the Light Dragoons."

"My lord, I--I--"

"Don't, don't, Denville," said the old man, pressing his arm. "Hold up man, or some of these idiots will be seeing that you are moved. Take a pinch of snuff, man--of mine, and let's walk out upon the Downs, out here beyond the fishermen's cottages, and my sight isn't what it was, or I should have said that was Miss Claire going into yon fisherman's hut."

"Impossible, my lord. Will you allow me to express my--"

"No, no, no. Not a word, Denville. Why, man, you are husky with emotion now, real emotion. Don't say another word about it. Only make the boy do us justice."

"He shall, my lord," said the MC in a broken voice.

"And now, look here, Denville; I'm about one of the most selfish old fellows that ever breathed, and I want to see if I can't have a little recompense for all my miseries and disappointments."

"Yours, my lord?"

"Yes, sir, mine," said the old beau. "Do you think because I'm rich I'm happy? Not a bit of it. I haven't long to live though now, and I want to make the best of the time left."

"My lord!"

"Hold your tongue and listen. I heard all about Rockley meeting Miss Claire and young Linnell thras.h.i.+ng him."

"It was a most unfortunate affair, my lord."

"I don't know that either. Pity young Linnell couldn't shoot and pop off that scoundrel Rockley. By the way, he looked daggers at me for getting your boy appointed to his regiment; but the boy shan't disgrace the corps, if I find him money myself."

Denville paused where they stood upon the Downs and gazed wonderingly at the old Earl.

"I make you stare, Denville. Well, I'll be frank with you, and you shall be frank with me."

The MC bowed and wiped his streaming face.

"Of course she does not care for Rockley."

"Good heavens, my lord; no!"

"Nor for young Linnell?"

The MC hemmed twice before he spoke.

"I, too, will be frank with you, my lord," he said. "It was in dead opposition to my wishes, but I'm afraid there was something between my daughter and Mr Richard Linnell."

Lord Carboro' looked at the speaker searchingly.

"It was an unspoken attachment, my lord, nothing more; and since that terrible event at my house--I am obliged to name it," he said, with quivering lip--"whatever intimacy existed has been broken off."

"Humph! Sure, Denville?"

"I have my daughter's word, my lord. That duel set me thinking; and like another father, my lord, of whom we read, I bespoke her roundly."

"Oh! come, Denville, don't compare yourself to Polonius, man. He--he-- he!"

"Only to that extent, my lord. As I say, I spoke to her, and she a.s.sured me that there was nothing whatever between her and Mr Linnell, but grat.i.tude towards a gentleman who saved her from insult."

"Denville, that Mellersh is his friend; he ought to have shown the boy how to shoot the scoundrel."

The MC was trembling with excitement. He was between hope and dread, for he could not but divine what was coming, and in spite of the glittering future it held up to his view he shrank from it with fear.

Volume Two, Chapter X.

AN ELDERLY SUITOR.

"Grat.i.tude, eh?" said Lord Carboro' suddenly.

"Yes, my lord," said the MC, who was perspiring profusely.

"Deuced dangerous thing, Denville. Are you sure?"

"My lord, I have my child's word, and that is sacred."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lord Carboro', "you are right. Bless her! she is as sweet and true as she is beautiful. She stands alone here in her youthful dignity. Damme, Denville, I always look upon her as some beautiful Greek G.o.ddess, and I would have sooner gone to her funeral than seen that _roue_ Rockley win her. I would, damme."

"My lord, so would I," said Denville huskily.

"And you would sooner go to her funeral than see her my wife, eh?" said the old beau abruptly.

"My lord, I did not say so."

"Nor think it?"

Stuart Denville, MC of Saltinville, stood there out on the hazy Downs, trembling, obsequious, tossed by his emotions. It was so dazzling, this suggestion of an offer for his child's hand. May had married a rich man; but for Claire, his beautiful child, to become the wife of a wealthy n.o.bleman--to become Countess of Carboro'! It was such an exaltation--greater than his highest dreams. But before him stood that withered old man, scanning him with his sharp eyes, and ready to probe him with his bitterly venomed tongue. He, to be the husband of his beautiful child. It was sacrilege.

"We agreed to be quite frank," said Lord Carboro' sharply.

Denville drew a long breath, and biting his lip, called up before his mental vision the sweet soft face of his child wearing a new horror as he bore her this news, and trampling down, as it were, the great temptation, he cast off his mincing ways, his servile politeness, and in a quick, firm voice exclaimed:

"Will your lords.h.i.+p commence and set me the example? What do you mean?"

"Come, I like that, Denville. Spoken like a man. Well, I'll be frank.

I have long been thinking of your child, and watching her, and as I have watched her I have loved--no, that is absurd at my age--my liking for her has grown. I have put it off and it has come back, and I have put it off again as I have heard some bit of scandal, but she has always come out of it so spotless and well that I have grown more--well, infatuated."

He paused for a minute, and then went on speaking earnestly.

"Then came that horror at your house, just as I had made up my mind to speak to you; and I said no: it was impossible; but the feeling grew.

Yes, man, even at my age."

Denville bowed, and drew himself up very stiffly.