"By no means," answered Claude, with a desire to please her; "at the worst, you are only growing old gracefully."
"Small comfort in that," sighed Mrs. Hilliston. "I do not want to grow old at all. However, it is no use fighting the inevitable, but I hope I'll die before I become a hag."
"You will never become one."
"I'm not so sure of that. I'm one of those large women who turn to bones and wrinkles in old age."
"In my eyes you will always be beautiful, Louise," said Hilliston, who entered at this moment. "You are an angel ever bright and fair."
"You have not lost the art of saying pretty things, Francis," replied his wife, greatly gratified; "but there is the gong. Claude, take your mother in to dinner."
The young man winced as she said this, thinking of his real mother who lay sick and feeble at Hampstead. Hilliston saw his change of countenance, and bit his lip to prevent himself remarking thereon. He guessed what Claude was thinking about, and thus his thoughts were turned in the same direction. At the present moment the memories thus evoked were most unpleasant.
During dinner Mrs. Hilliston recovered her spirits and talked freely enough. No one was present save Claude and her husband, so they were a very pleasant party of three. While in the full flow of conversation, Claude could not help thinking that Tait was unjust to suspect the master of the house of underhand dealings; for Hilliston was full of smiles and geniality, and did his best to entertain his guest. Could Claude have looked below the surface he would have been considerably astonished at the inward aspect of the man. Yet a hint was given him of such want of concord, for Hilliston showed the cloven hoof before the meal ended.
"So you are going to Eastbourne," said Claude, addressing himself to Mrs. Hilliston. "I hope you will come over to Thorston during your stay."
"It is not unlikely," replied the lady. "Francis intends to make excursions all round the country."