‘What possessed the old madman to make that boy his heir? Why couldn’t he have left the property to you, or me, or Lewis? What a grand thing it would have been for us! It makes my blood boil to think of such a chance lost. And for him to die just then, before we had made sure of Maud!’ here followed more unparliamentary language. ‘Oh, it’s too much for anybody’s temper! What can make Philip so different from his father, and everybody of his name?’ ‘There is something very odd about Philip, I always have thought,’ said Mrs. Belassis significantly. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I am not sure that I know what I do mean; but I am watching. I have a sort of suspicion, but I can hardly tell yet what it is. If I could, I should say nothing to you—you would be sure to let it out, and spoil everything. If you take my advice, you will have as little to do with him as possible.’ ‘Well, I don’t want to have more to do with him than I need,’ answered Belassis, looking rather foolish and crestfallen as he heard his wife’s plainly expressed opinion of him. ‘But I do think I know how to take care of my own interests, Celia. You seem to have very little confidence in my caution.’ ‘In your caution, plenty; but not much in your judgment,’ answered his wife frankly. ‘Well, I must speak to him about Maud, at any rate. He said he would think the matter over, and make up his mind whether to advance or oppose our views. I wonder if he has decided yet.’ ‘If you take my advice, you will say nothing at all about it,’ said Mrs. Belassis. The ex-lawyer, however, was not prepared to take his wife’s advice in all things. He had a great respect for her cleverness, but he considered his own superior; and he was determined, if possible, to be on friendly terms with his nephew. He hoped still to conciliate him, and win him over to his own interests, and was half inclined to think his wife’s prognostications needlessly gloomy. The Ladywell party had dined one evening at Thornton House, and Lewis had speedily followed the ladies into the drawing-room. Tor would have accompanied him, and had risen to do so, when Mr. Belassis interposed. ‘Sit down again—sit down again, my dear boy. We must excuse Lewis, I suppose; he has a right and reason to prefer the ladies’ society: but we so seldom have a chance to talk quietly together, that I confess I am anxious to avail myself of it.’ Tor sat down readily enough, and filled his glass. It was not his way to assume heroics, or to stand aloof even from people he considered undesirable. His manner was always unruffled and serene. This friendliness of demeanour disarmed Mr. Belassis, and gave him courage. ‘Well, Phil, my lad, how do you like the new life, now that you are getting settled down to it? Is it as much to your mind as the old roving style?’ ‘I hardly know yet. Not quite, I think. I do not feel settled even now. It would take very little to start me off on my travels again.’ Mr. Belassis seemed to breathe more freely.