“Enough, enough, Frank!” exclaimed Hamilton, laughing. “I see through your flimsy veil. We won't say any more: you either argue in a circle, or try to blind us.”
Louis looked up as Hamilton passed, in hopes that that magnate might give him a favorable glance, in which he was not mistaken, for Edward the Great had been watching him from some distance, and was perfectly aware of his near approach to him.
He certainly did not seem displeased, though the grave countenance bore no marks of particular satisfaction at the rencontre. He spoke carelessly to his brother, and then, addressing Louis, said, “You must look after him, Louis, if you wish for his company; if not, dismiss him at once.”
“I do wish for him,” said Louis, with a bright look of gratitude; “I promise to take care of him. Mr. Hamilton, I am getting up in my class—I am fifth now.”
The latter communication was made doubtfully, in a tone indicating mixed pleasure and timidity.
“I am glad to hear it,” was Hamilton's laconic reply. He did not quicken his pace. “What have you there?” he asked, noticing his book.
“Coleridge's Ancient Mariner; I was going to read it,” replied Louis; “but now Alfred has come we shall talk: shall we not, Alfred?”
This was accompanied by another look of grateful pleasure at Alfred's brother.
What was passing in Hamilton's mind was not to be gathered from his countenance, which exhibited no emotion of any kind. He turned to Trevannion, as their party was strengthened by Churchill, remarking, “Here comes the sucking fish.”
“It's uncommon hot,” said Churchill, taking off his hat, and fanning himself with his handkerchief.