Mrs. Kinloch, too, grew older unaccountably fast.  Her soft brown hair began to whiten, her features grew sharp, and her expression quick, watchful, and intense.  Upon being spoken to, she would start and tremble in her whole frame; her cheeks would glow momentarily, and then become waxen again.

Impatient at the slow progress of her son’s wooing, and impelled now by a new fear that all her plans might be frustrated, if Mildred should happen to hear any rumor touching the cause of Lucy’s disappearance, Mrs. Kinloch proposed to herself to assist him more openly than she had hitherto done—­She was not aware that anything implicating Hugh had been reported, but she knew enough of human nature to be sure that some one would be peering into the mystery,—­a mystery which she divined by instinct, but had not herself dared to explore.  So, finding a favorable opportunity, she sat down beside Mildred, determined to read the secret of her soul; for she made no question that she could scan her, as she might the delicate machinery of the French clock, noiselessly moving under its crystal cover.

Mildred shuddered unconsciously, as she felt her step-mother’s thin fingers gently smoothing the hair upon her temples; still more, as the pale and quivering lips were pressed to her forehead.  The caress was not a feigned tenderness.  Mrs. Kinloch really loved the girl, with such love as she had to bestow; and if her manner had been latterly abstracted or harsh, it was from preoccupation.  She was soon satisfied that the suspicion she dreaded had not found place in the girl’s mind.  Leading the way by imperceptible approaches, she spoke in her softest tones of her joy at Hugh’s altered manners, her hopes of his future, and especially of her desire to have him leave the navy and settle on shore.

“How happy we might be, Hugh and we,” she said, “if we could live here in this comfortable home, and feel that nothing but death would break up the circle!  How much your dear father counted on the happiness in store for him in growing old with his children around him!—­and would he not be rejoiced to see us cling together, bound by ties as strong as life, and cherishing his memory by our mutual affection?”

Mildred replied in some commonplaces,—­rather wondering at the vein of sentiment, and in no way suspecting the object which her step-mother had in view.

Mrs. Kinloch continued:—­“Hugh needs some new attraction now to detain him; he is tired of the sea, but he finds the village dull.  He is just of the age to think of looking for some romantic attachment; but you know how few girls there are here whose manners and education are such as to please a cultivated man.”

Mildred grew uneasy, but remained silent.  Mrs. Kinloch was every moment more eager in her manner; a novice, waiting for the turn of the cards in rouge et noir, would not have manifested a greater anxiety as to the result.  But the girl looked out of the window, and did not see the compressed lips, dilated nostrils, and glittering eyes, that gave such a contradiction to the bland words.