AN EVENING AT THE VICARAGE.
THE Vicar of Thorston was a severe man, a trifle narrow in his views,
and imperious of temper; but he was also fond of good cheer and
hospitality--virtues which cover a multitude of sins. Those who sat at
his table were sure of a capital dinner and an excellent glass of wine;
for his cook and cellar were both undeniable. Report said that Mr.
Linton was afraid of his cook, for that good lady had a hot temper, and
feared no man. Many were the battles between her and the vicar, but
being a perfect mistress of the culinary art, she invariably came off
victor. She had her faults, but she was a jewel of a cook, and was
valued accordingly.
On this special evening the vicar had assembled ten people, including
himself, round his hospitable board. Mr. and Mrs. Hilliston were the
principal guests, and Claude was also honored with special attention. An
old couple named Densham, garrulous and pleasant, had likewise been
invited; and they, with their daughter and Jenny Paynton, completed the
party. To Claude was assigned Miss Paynton, while to Frank Linton was
given the Densham damsel, an arrangement which was anything but pleasing
to that jealous young man, or indeed to Miss Densham, who thought the
famous author a grumpy creature. He was too preoccupied to please her
taste.
Claude thought he had never seen Mrs. Hilliston to such disadvantage.
She appeared ill at ease, and was haggard and pale of face, looking
every year of her age. Even the rich dress and splendid jewels she wore
failed to conceal the ravages of time; and in the neighborhood of the
fresh beauty of the two girls she seemed an old woman. She felt this
herself, for Claude noted that she threw an envious glance at the
blooming faces of her rivals, and surveyed her wan looks in the nearest
glass with a sigh. To her the party was purgatory.
Nor did the lawyer appear to enjoy himself. He was moody and fretful,
though every now and then he forced himself to be merry, but his laugh
was hollow, and the careworn expression of his face belied his untimely
mirth. Sometimes he stole a furtive look at Claude, and seemed to brood
over the young man's changed manner; for, do what he could, Larcher,
deeming his old friend an enemy, could not behave with his former
cordiality. He was ill-suited for a diplomat.
The dinner passed off with moderate success. Frank was complimented on
his book, and the prosy couple had to be told the main points of the
story. This brief recital made at least three people uncomfortable; for
Claude raised his eyes to encounter an angry glance from Hilliston, and
a deprecating one from Jenny. They were relieved when the vicar, who by
no means approved of such attention being bestowed on a trashy novel,
even though his son was the author, turned the conversation into another
channel. Mr. Linton liked to lead the conversation at his own table.
"I wish to speak to you particularly, Claude," whispered Mrs. Hilliston,
as he held the door open for the ladies to retire; "do not be long over
your wine."
"I will come as soon as I can," he replied, and returned to his seat,
wondering what she could have to say to him. He was not left long in
doubt, for Mr. Hilliston entered into conversation as soon as the
glasses were filled and the cigars lighted. This was the moment for
which he had longed for the whole evening.
"Why isn't your friend Tait here to-night?" he asked, in a casual tone,
feigning a lightness he did not feel.
"Did not Mr. Linton tell you?" replied Claude, prepared for this query.
"He had to go to town on business."
"On business," murmured Hilliston uneasily; "anything to do with this
case you have taken up?"
"I can't say. Tait did not particularly state his errand."
The lawyer sipped his wine, looked thoughtfully at the end of the cigar,
and pondered for a few minutes. He wished to speak of Claude's changed
behavior toward himself, yet did not know how to begin. At length he
bluntly blurted out a question, straightforward and to the point. This
was undiplomatic, but at times human nature is too strong for training.
"We are not such good friends as of yore, Claude. How is that?"
"I think you can guess the reason," replied Larcher, not ill pleased to
fight out the point, for he hated being forced into doubtful civility.
"It is this case which has come between us. I do not think you are
giving me what help you ought to, Mr. Hilliston."
"I can give you no help," said the lawyer, drawing his heavy brows
together. "You know as much as I do. No doubt your meddlesome friend
knows more."
"It is not improbable. But you can prove your honesty in the matter by
doing me a favor."
"My honesty, sir, has never been called into question yet," said
Hilliston, injudiciously losing his temper, always a prelude to defeat.
"And I have no call to defend myself to one to whom I have been a
father. Still I am willing to grant you what you wish, in reason."
"Very good! Then introduce me to Mr. Paynton."
"I'm afraid that is out of my power," replied Hilliston, shaking his
head. "You know the man's ways, I think. He is a hermit, a misanthrope,
and does not care for company. Why do you wish to know him?"
"For various reasons," answered Larcher, coloring with some
embarrassment. He was by no means willing to take Mr. Hilliston into his
confidence.
His old guardian looked at him shrewdly, and, remembering certain small
circumstances connected with Jenny, guessed, with the skill of an
experienced character reader, how the land lay. At once he formed a
resolution to further Claude's interests in the matter, hoping, and not
unjustly, that should the lad be taken in the toils of love, he might
stop further investigation of the case, an end which Hilliston much
desired to gain.
"Oh!" said he not unkindly, "sits the wind in that quarter? Well, I will
aid you. In a few days I will try and induce Mr. Paynton to see you, and
then perhaps you may succeed."
"Succeed in what?" demanded Claude sharply, hardly relishing this
perspicuity.
"Why, in this love-suit of yours. Aye, aye, Claude, I can see what you
aim at, old as I am. Well, she is a pretty girl, clever and worthy. I
know of no woman who would make you a better wife. You have my best
wishes for your success."
"And you will introduce me to her father?"
"I'll try to, but I won't promise confidently. Paynton is a strange
creature and may refuse to see you. By the way," added Hilliston, as
though struck with a sudden thought, "what was my wife saying to you at
the door?"
"She was requesting me to speak to her in the drawing room. There is
nothing wrong, I hope? She does not look well."
"Oh, nothing wrong, nothing wrong!" replied Hilliston easily, rising to
his feet as the vicar moved toward the door. "She is fond of you, my
dear boy, and is anxious about the case."
"Anxious about the case," thought Larcher, as he followed his host into
the drawing room; "that is strange. She can have no interest in it. H'm!
I'll try the effect of Tait's destination on her. He said I would be
astonished at the result. I am beginning to be so already."
Perhaps Jenny had overheard the whisper in the dining room, and was
sufficiently taken with Larcher to be jealous of his attentions to Mrs.
Hilliston, old though she deemed her, for, before he could cross over to
where the lawyer's wife was seated, Jenny beckoned to him with her
imperious finger. He could do nothing but obey, despite the frown which
darkened Mrs. Hilliston's face, as she saw, and, with womanly instinct,
guessed the maneuver.
"Come and sit down here," whispered Jenny, under cover of the music, for
Miss Densham was at the piano. "I have not seen you for several days."
"That is not my fault," said Claude, delighted at the interest thus
displayed; "you stay so much indoors. I have been looking for you
everywhere."
"Have you, indeed, Mr. Larcher?" said Jenny, with feigned surprise. "And
why, may I ask?"
"Oh, for no particular purpose, unless, indeed, it was to ask you for
further information concerning the novel."
"Hush. Not a word of that. I can't speak of it to you. I know who you
are, Mr. Larcher, but I am ignorant of the tragedy save what I told to
Frank, and later on to Mr. Tait."
"But you can guess----"
"I can guess nothing," interrupted the girl imperiously. "If you and I
are to remain friends you must cease talking on that subject."
"I'll do anything to remain friends with you, Miss Paynton," was the
significant reply.
"Then talk of anything save that terrible case. Oh, how I wish I had
left it alone!"
"I'm glad you did not," said Claude bluntly. "If it had not been for
that book----"
Before he could finish the sentence Jenny shot an indignant look at him,
and deliberately rising from her seat crossed the room to where Frank
Linton was frowning and tugging at his mustache. Claude was vexed at his
folly in thus drawing down her anger on him, but accepted his beating
like a man, and passed over to where Mrs. Hilliston waited with an
expectant face. She remarked on his tardy coming with some bitterness.
"I see you prefer a younger face to mine," she said, drawing herself up.
"Time was when I had no rival to fear."
"Dear Mrs. Hilliston, I could not disobey a lady. Besides--besides----"
"Besides you are in love with her. Oh, I can see that! Well, she is a
pretty girl. So you intend to marry her?"
"It is early yet to talk of marriage. I don't even know if she likes
me."
Mrs. Hilliston laughed, and looked at him smilingly. "Then you must be
very ignorant of the way of women, my dear," she said meaningly. "A word
in your ear, Claude. That girl loves you."
"In two weeks! Impossible!"
"I've known love to grow in two days," replied Mrs. Hilliston dryly.
"Oh, yes, she loves you, and you love her, so you can marry as soon as
you choose."
"First I must get Mr. Paynton's consent."
"I should not think that would be difficult," said the lady, looking at
his eager face. "You are young, not ill-looking, not badly off, and so I
should not think Mr. Paynton would desire anything better for his
daughter. So much for the first obstacle, and the second?"
"I must solve the mystery of my father's death."
Mrs. Hilliston's manner changed on the instant, and from being gay she
became severe and anxious-looking. Indeed, Claude thought that she paled
under her rouge; but this might have been fancy.
"It is about that I wish to speak to you," she said hurriedly. "I want
you to stop investigating this case. You will learn nothing; it would be
of no use to anyone if you did solve the mystery. Stop troubling
yourself with slander, Claude."
"Why?" he asked, astonished at her earnest tone.
"Because your conduct vexes my husband. He has been a father to you in
the place of the one you lost, so you ought to consider him a little.
Pray leave that mystery unsolved."
"If I would, Tait would not. He is now even more eager than I to find
out the truth."
"Horrid little man!" said the lady viciously. "Where is he now?"
The time had now come to try the effect of Tait's destination, and
fixing his eyes on Mrs. Hilliston as she slowly fanned herself, Claude
uttered the fatal words.
"He is at Horriston."
The fan stopped, Mrs. Hilliston paled, but, preserving her self-control
with a strong effort, replied quietly:
"At Horriston. And why?"
"To find out a person not mentioned in the case."
"Man or woman?" asked Mrs. Hilliston in a low voice.
"Woman."
She said no more, but turned away her head to reply to her husband, who
came up opportunely. He also had heard the last few words of the
conversation, and, ignoring the presence of Claude, husband and wife
looked at one another with pale faces.
The shot had struck home, and Larcher saw that it had.