Hugh presently passed through the hall. "Well, mother," said he, "I
suppose you think you've done it now."

"Go about your business, you foolish boy!" she retorted. "Go and try
something that you do know about. You can snare a partridge, or shoot
a woodcock, perhaps!"


CHAPTER XIII.

Mildred had now no peace; after what had happened, she could not meet
Hugh and his mother with any composure. The scheming woman had risked
everything in the appeal she made to her daughter,--risked everything,
and lost. Nothing could restore harmony; neither could forget the
struggle and live the old quiet life. Mrs. Kinloch, always pursued by
anxiety, was one day full of courage, fruitful in plans and resources,
and the next day cast down into the pit of despair. Now she clung to
her first hope, believing that time, patience, kindness, would soften
Mildred's resolution; then, seeing the blank indifference with which
she treated Hugh, she racked her invention to provide other means of
attaining her end.

Again, the thought of her inexplicable loss came over her, and she was
frightened to madness; creeping chills alternating with cold sweats
tortured her. It was a mystery she could not penetrate. She could not
but implicate Lucy: but then Lucy might be in her grave. After every
circumstance had passed in review, her suspicions inevitably returned
and fastened upon her lawyer, Clamp. She almost wished he would come
to see her again; for he, being naturally sulky at his first