"Of course I don't pretend to know. I am hardly more than a stranger—not in the Wintons' secrets. But I do happen to have heard, and on extremely good authority, that your own son has been paying a good deal of attention to Doris—and that her parents are more than willing."
Mrs. Stirling lay back in her chair, and laughed till tears ran down her cheeks.
"My son! Hamilton! After Doris Winton! My dear Mrs. Brutt!—where can you have picked up such a preposterous notion? Doris Winton! Hardly more than a child! A pretty girl, and a nice girl, but not in the least suited to Hamilton. He has known her all her life, and they are very good friends,—in fact, he is rather fond of instructing her in geology, and I have seen her unmistakably bored with it. He and I will have a good laugh over that report. Oh, I quite understand—you had it on the best authority! Did you ever hear any piece of impossible news which was not on the very best authority? I never did. I'm afraid somebody has been amusing herself at your expense. If you really wish to know the truth—quite between ourselves!—I can assure you that the one woman in the world for my son would be—Katherine Stirling! But at present she would never think of leaving her uncle. He so depends upon her; and she is a very embodiment of unselfishness."
Mrs. Brutt felt herself foiled. She had had distinctly the worst of the encounter; and she took herself off with a much offended air. When she was gone, Mrs. Stirling went straight to her son, and related what had passed.
"I've no doubt there is a modicum of truth in the woman's gossip," she said. "Though why she should have taken the trouble to tell me, I don't know. Mere love of talk, probably. All that about the farm people is, I dare say, pure imagination. But this explains Doris's note. She has been éprise by the young surgeon, and can't think definitely of anybody else."
Hamilton looked solemn. He was more amazed than distressed. He had never doubted that he only had to propose to be accepted. That Doris should prefer another to himself was almost inconceivable! But clearly it was the case.
"If you take my advice, my dear boy,"—she called him a "boy" still sometimes, as mothers do, long after boyhood is passed,—"you will give up thinking about Doris, and just go back to Katherine. And—I may be mistaken, but somehow I do think you are a good deal to Katherine. I think you might succeed in that direction. And I've made it easy for you now to prevent people from saying that you have been refused. You know what I have always wished. Doris is a charming girl. But Katherine—!"
That "But Katherine—!" with its unspoken suggestion, took hold of him. The thought of Katherine soothed his wounded pride. After all, nobody had been to him what Katherine always was. She, and not Doris, formed the embodiment of his typical wife. And if Doris really had taken up with somebody else, rather than himself—well, Hamilton was sorry for her!
He spent a restless night, and next morning went to Lynnthorpe, for two hours in Katherine's company.