imself
from snapping at his rival; but the restraint was in itself evident,
and there were symptoms throughout the dinner that the untamed man
was longing to fly at the throat of the man that was tamed.

"Is it supposed that I ought to go away for a little while?" said
Clara, as soon as she had drank her own glass of wine.

"Oh dear, no," said the Captain. "We'll have a cup of coffee;--that
is, if Mr. Belton likes it."

"It's all the same to me," said Will.

"But won't you have some more wine?" Clara asked.

"No more for me," said Captain Aylmer. "Perhaps Mr. Belton--"

"Who; I? No; I don't want any more wine," said Will; and then they
were all silent.

It was very hard upon Clara. After a while the coffee came, and even
that was felt to be a comfort. Though there was no pouring out to
be done, no actual employment enacted, still the manoeuvring of the
cups created a diversion. "If either of you like to smoke," she said,
"I shan't mind it in the least." But neither of them would smoke. "At
what hour shall we get to Aylmer Park to-morrow?" Clara asked.

"At half-past four," said the Captain.

"Oh, indeed;--so early as that." What was she to say next? Will, who
had not touched his coffee, and who was sitting stiffly at the table
as though he were bound in duty not to move, was becoming more and
more grim every moment. She almost repented that she had asked him
to remain with them. Certainly there was no comfort in his company,
either to them or to himself. "How long shall you remain in town,
Will, before you go down to Plaistow?" she asked.

"One day," he replied.

"Give my kind love,--my very kindest love to Mary. I wish I knew her.
I wish I could think that I might soon know her."

"You'll never know her," said Belton. The tone of his voice was
actually savage as he spoke;--so much so that Aylmer turned in his
chair to look at him, and Clara did not dare to answer him. But now
that he had been made to speak, it seemed that he was determined to
persevere. "How should you ever know her? Nothing will ever bring you
into Norfolk, and nothing will ever take her out of it."

"I don't quite see why either of those assertions should be made."

"Nevertheless they're both true. Had you ever meant to come to
Norfolk you would have come now." He had not even asked her to come,
having arranged with his sister that in their existing circumstances
any such asking would not be a kindness; and yet he rebuked her now
fo