He sat in his place silent for some minutes, and the broad brown hand stroked the snowy beard in deep thought, so that the conversation flagged, and the Duke began to talk about the voyage.

But Mr.Bellingham took his brimming glass, filled with the wine that ripened in the sun when he himself was but a little boy, and he held it a moment to the light; the juice was clearer now than it had been that day sixty years, and the hand that held the goblet was as a hand of iron for strength and steadiness, though the dark fingers might have plucked the grapes on the day they were pressed.

And with an old-time motion he carried it to his lips, then paused one instant, then drank it slowly, slowly to the last drop.

It was a toast, but the speech was unspoken, and none knew to whom or to what he drained the measure.

In a little time he began to speak again; the conversation turned upon mutual friends in England, and the dinner was at an end.
But all through the evening Claudius never left Margaret's side.