And Major Winton sipped his first glass of post-prandial claret with great gusto. He had paid off Mrs. Hammond for using him on the picnic-day, and throwing him off when she no longer required him. It was to be presumed, however, that Mrs. Hammond had not heard this remark; at least she gave no signs of having done so, being occupied in conversation with Captain Bligh. Sir Charles Mitford grew very red; Miss Hayter looked round, enjoying the fun; and an awkward pause ensued, broken by old Sir Thomas Hayter.
"Didn't I hear you say you were over at Egremont the other day, Mitford?"
"Yes, Sir Thomas; we went over there, and had a kind of winter picnic."
"You didn't see anything of Torn Boscastle, I suppose?"
"No; we only went to the ruins, and lunched in the keep. Besides, I don't know him."
"Ah! you wouldn't have seen him if you had known him. He keeps quite to himself just now."
"What's the matter? is he ill?"
"No, not ill in body, you know. What's that we used to learn in the Latin grammar--'magis quam corpore, aegrotat'--his mind, you know."
"That's bad; what has brought that about?"
"Well, you see, he's got a son, a wild extravagant fellow, who has run through I can't tell how much money, which poor Tom could very ill afford, as we all know; and the last thing the vagabond did was to get hold of his father's cheque-book, and forge his name to a terrible amount."