"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, hush!"
"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 fashion, 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, hush!" 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
assume 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."
"I am sure you would not say anything to wound me," said Claire, kissing
her.
"Indeed I wouldn't, my dear: and, do you know, ever since I found out
how you people here were situated, through Mr Denville coming to see my
Josiah, who is the real best of men, I seemed to take to you like. I
went home and had a good cry after I'd been here the first time, and
seen you managing your poor father, and your sister and brother so
well."
Claire's brow grew troubled, but her visitor prattled on.
"You had another brother, hadn't you, my dear, who couldn't agree with
your father like, and then went away?"
"Yes," said Claire, bowing her head to hide her face.
"Ah, my Josiah told me so. Well, well, there's troubles in every
family, my dear; and so long as pa has got you he has not much cause for
complaint."
Claire looked up, trying to smile, but it was a sorry attempt; and soon
after her guest rose, assuring her that she need not be uneasy about Mr
Linnell.
"One word before I go, my dear, though, just as a secret. It isn't that
I'm curious, because I don't care who it is marries, or whom they marry;
but I've no girls of my own, and I do take an interest in you. Now,
just in a whisper like. I am an old friend."
"Yes, yes--indeed, you are. The only dear friend I have."
"Then tell me now; put your lips close to my ear--it is to be Mr
Linnell, is it not?"
"Never!" said Claire firmly.
"Oh, my! And I told you to whisper. I won't believe it's that horrible
Major."
"Mrs Barclay," said Claire, putting her arms round her homely friend's
neck, "they say that every woman has her duty in life: mine is to watch
over and help my father, and to be such protection as I can to my sister
and brothers."
"What, and not get married at all?" cried Mrs Barclay, in a tone of
disappointment.
"And never be any man's wife," said Claire sadly. "Oh!"
"Stop one moment, Mrs Barclay," whispered Claire, in a strangely
hesitating manner, "you do like me, I know."
"Indeed, I do, my dear, though I must say you disappoint me horribly."
"Then I want you--whatever comes to pass--whatever people may say of
me--to try and think the best of me."
"Why, my darling!"
"Yes: I know you will; but your confidence may be sorely tried, and I
want you to think well of me always. I cannot do all I wish, and--and--
I cannot explain myself; only think the best you can of me. Good-bye,
good-bye!"
"She is the strangest girl I ever did meet," said Mrs Barclay, as she
panted away in her thick silk and enormous open bonnet. "Think well of
her, whatever comes to pass! Why, of course I will, poor girl!"
Volume Two, Chapter IX.