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.