"What do you say, my dear--another of those mad fits of excitement as
soon as my name's mentioned? Oh, it's too bad. I don't think I've ever
been rake enough to deserve it. Well, whether or no, I must go and see
him. I can't stop away. I'm his eldest son, and a man's a man even if
he is a common soldier, and has disgraced himself in the eyes of
society."
"Fred dear, I'm broken-hearted," sobbed Claire, as she nestled close to
her brother, and hid her face in his breast, neither seeing nor hearing
Mr and Mrs Barclay open the door and cross the room, the latter making
a sign to the dragoon not to take any notice of them, and as soon as she
was alone with her husband, saying indignantly:
"The scandalous old hags, making out that the poor dear was carrying on
with a common soldier. Lor'! Jo-si-ah, what a little wickedness there
would seem to be in the world if everything was properly explained."
"Well, I don't know so much about that," replied Barclay. "Perhaps we
should find out some of the very innocent ones were not so good as they
seemed."
"I shall go on at once and see the old man," said Fred Denville, kissing
his sister tenderly. "I can't stop away. The old fellow will be calmer
perhaps to-day; and, Claire, my girl, I'm going to try and get my
discharge, and start a new life. It's a strange thing if I can't keep a
home for you and take care of you. I can't stand this soldiering any
longer. Servant to that blackguard, Rockley! Has he spoken to you
lately?"
"No, Fred," said Claire wearily. "No."
"I can't stand it, girl. It's a shame to talk of my beggarly troubles
now, but it's precious hard to be meeting one's own brother--one's
superior officer--and him not to know me. Has Morton been to see
father?"
"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 of
conviction; but as he met her full in the eyes, and saw the change that
came over her countenance, the conviction seemed blunted, and he
shuddered.
"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 answer
questions--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 she
seemed to be growing wild with dread.
"I could not bear it," she cried, "to go up before those people and
condemn my own father. It would be too horrible. It would be against
nature. 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 right
man before the time--hush!--hush!"
Claire had uttered a piteous cry full of despair, as she buried her face
in her hands.
"I cannot bear it--I cannot bear it," she cried. "There, go--go and see
him," she said quickly. "You must go. It would be too cruel to stay
away from him now he is so low in spirit. Be gentle with him, Fred, if
he says hard things to you; and pray--pray don't resent them. You will
bear everything for my sake--say that you will."
"Of course, of course."
"Trouble and misery have made him irritable, and so that he hardly knows
what 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 sudden
impulse, he took her in his arms again and held her to his breast,
whilst she clung to him as if he were her only hope, and so they
remained in silence for a time.
At last he loosed himself from her embrace, and stood over her as she
crouched down upon the sofa.
"I'm going there now, Claire," he said, "but before I go, have you
anything to say to me about that night of the murder? Is there anything
I ought to know, so as to be able to talk to the old man about his
defence? Will he tell me all he knows about the affair--why, Claire,
child, what is the matter--are you going wild?"
He caught her two hands, and held her, startled by the change which had
come over her, as she shrank from him in horror, with eyes dilated, face
drawn and lips apart.
"There, my little girl," he said, with rough tenderness, "I ought to
have known better than to talk to you about it. Perhaps all will come
right yet after all."
Claire seemed to be so prostrated that it was some time before he
attempted to leave her, and then it was upon her urging, for she seemed
at last to rouse herself to action, and with feverish haste bade him go.
"It is your duty, Fred," she said agitatedly, "but--but don't question
him--don't say a word to him. Only go to him as the son to the father
in terrible distress. Let him speak to you if he will."
"But his defence, girl, his defence. Something must be done, and I am
without a guinea in the world."
"Mr Barclay--Mr Linnell are arranging that without his knowledge,"
said Claire. "I had forgotten to tell you, Fred: my head seems confused
and strange."
"No wonder, little one," he said. "Ah, I like that Barclay. One never
knows who are our friends until trouble comes--and young Linnell. It
isn't a time to talk about such things now, Clairy; but young Linnell's
a good fellow, and he thinks a great deal of you."
Claire joined her hands as if begging him to be silent, and he once more
kissed her, and after begging Mrs Barclay to watch over her, hurried
away.
Volume Three, Chapter XV.