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"Since my brothers died, Claude, the old gentleman has only me to look to. You seem to be a naturalist, sir." "A dabbler," said the major, with eye and hand still busy. "I ought not to begin our acquaintance by doubting your word: but these things are no dabbler's work;" and Tom pointed to some exquisite photographs of minute corallines, evidently taken under the microscope. "They are Mellot's."
In ten minutes the ladies were packed into the carriage, and away, under Mellot's care. Frank watched Valencia looking back, and smiling through her tears, as they rolled through the village; and then got into his car, and rattled down the southern road to Pont Aberglaslyn, his hand still tingling with the last pressure of Valencia's. But where has Stangrave been all this while?
I have heard your name often: you are my friend Mellot's old friend, are you not?" "I am a very old friend of Claude Mellot's." "Well, and there he is on board, and will be delighted to do the honours of my yacht to you whenever you like to visit her. You and I must know each other better, sir."
I'm sure you look so!" said he, looking round into the bright pure faces, fresh from Leaven, and feeling himself the nearer heaven as he did so. "Ah! I see Mr. Mellot's been drawing you pictures. He's a clever man, a wonderful man, isn't he? I can't draw you pictures, nor tell you stories, like your schoolmistress. What shall I do?" "Sing to them, Fred!" said Valencia.
Unfortunately, as will appear hereafter, Elsley's especial bêtes noirs were this very Wynd and his inseparable companion, Naylor, who happened to be not only the best men of the set, but Mellot's especial friends. Both were Rugby men, now reading for their degree.
A new ray of hope had crossed the Major's mind. His meeting with Thurnall might he providential; for he recollected now, for the first time, Mellot's parting hint. "You knew Elsley Vavasour well?" "No man better." "Did you think that there was any tendency to madness in him?" "No more than in any other selfish, vain, irritable man, with a strong imagination left to run riot."
'To Claude Mellot's. 'I will walk part of the way thither with you. But he is a very bad companion for you. 'I can't help that. I cannot live; and I am going to turn painter. It is not the road in which to find a fortune; but still, the very sign-painters live somehow, I suppose. I am going this very afternoon to Claude Mellot, and enlist.
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