Part 97 (1/2)

It was a curious laugh, full of affectation; and he took snuff again with all the old ceremony; but he did not close the box with a loud snap, and as his hand fell to his side, the brown powder dropped in patches and flakes here and there upon the carpet.

”Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed again. ”Calumnies, madam--I say it as I take my leave--the calumnies of false fribbles and envious women. Busy again with my dear children's names. But we must live it down. Elopement!

Pshaw! The c.o.xcombs! The Jezebels! My child! Oh, I cannot mention her sweet, spring-flower name in connection with such a horror. It is atrocious.”

”Denville,” said Barclay, in answer to an appealing look from his wife.

”No, no! Not a word, sir, not a word,” cried Denville, raising his hand. ”It is too absurd--too villainous. Madam, it is from your good heart that this warning comes. I thank you, ma'am, you meant to put me on my guard. Barclay, adieu, my good friend. You'll shake hands.

You'll take no notice of this slight emotion--this display of a father's indignation on hearing such a charge. Mrs Barclay, if I have spoken harshly, you'll forgive me. I don't blame you, dear madam. _Au revoir_! No, no; don't ring, I beg. I pray you will not come down.

You'll banish all this--from your thoughts--”

He stopped short and reeled again, dropping snuff-box, hat, and cane as he clasped his hands to his head, staring wildly before him. The feeble affected babble ceased suddenly, and it was another voice that seemed to come from his lips as he exclaimed loudly in hot anger:

”It is a lie! You--May! The girl I've loved so well--you! When my cup of suffering is br.i.m.m.i.n.g over. A lie--a lie, I say. Ah!”

His manner changed again; and now it was soft and full of wild appeal, as he cried:

”May--May! My darling! G.o.d help me, poor broken dotard that I am!

Shall I be in time?”

He made a dash for the door, but staggered, and would have fallen had not Barclay caught him and helped him to a chair, where he sat gazing before him as if at some scene pa.s.sing before his eyes.

”Blood,” he whispered at last, ”to the head. Help me, Barclay, or I shall be too late.”

”No, stay here. I'll go and do all I can.”

”No!” cried Denville fiercely. ”I am her father, Barclay; we may save her--if I go too.”

He rose with nervous energy now, and gripping the money-lender's arm they went together out into the dark street, where, indignantly refusing further help, the old man strode off, leaving Barclay watching him.

”I don't hardly know what to do,” he said musingly. ”Ah! who are you?”

”His lords.h.i.+p's man, sir,” said a livery servant. ”Lord Carboro' says could you make it convenient to come to him directly?”

”No, I'm busy. Well, yes, I will. Is he at home?”

”No, sir; at the reading-room.”

”Go on, then,” said Barclay. ”Tell his lords.h.i.+p I'll be there directly.”

The man went off, and Barclay hurried indoors to speak with his wife, and came out five minutes later to join the old n.o.bleman at the reading-room that answered the purpose of a club.

Volume Three, Chapter VI.

ON THE DOWNS.

High up on the Downs behind the town lay a patch of wood, dwarfed and stunted in its growth by the sharp breezes that came off the sea. The soil in which they grew, too, was exceedingly shallow; and, as the chalk beneath was not very generous in its supply of nutriment, the trees sent their roots along the surface, and their low-spreading branches inland, with a few shabby twigs seaward to meet the cutting blasts.

Right through this patch of thick low wood ran the London Road, and across it the coast road, going west, while a tall finger-post that had once been painted stood with outstretched arms, bending over a little old grey milestone, as if it were blessing it for being so humble and so small.

It was along this road that Richard Linnell, Mellersh, and James Bell had cantered, and then turned off at the cross, on the night of their pursuit, and the chalky way looked much the same beneath twinkling stars on the night succeeding the day when Louis Gravani had had his interview with Claire, as on that of Mrs Pontardent's party.