Darkness had closed in when there was a step in the room behind him. Then someone knelt beside the chair, two arms went round him with infinite compassion, a gentle head rested against his shoulder, and there came the faint scent as of apple-blossoms far away.
“You mustn’t be troubled, darling,” his mother whispered.
Chapter XXVI
George choked. For an instant he was on the point of breaking down, but he commanded himself, bravely dismissing the self-pity roused by her compassion. “How can I help but be?” he said.
“No, no.” She soothed him. “You mustn’t. You mustn’t be troubled, no matter what happens.”
“That’s easy enough to say!” he protested; and he moved as if to rise.
“Just let’s stay like this a little while, dear. Just a minute or two. I want to tell you: brother George has been here, and he told me everything about—about how unhappy you’d been—and how you went so gallantly to that old woman with the operaglasses.” Isabel gave a sad little laugh. “What a terrible old woman she is! What a really terrible thing a vulgar old woman can be!”
“Mother, I—” And again he moved to rise.
“Must you? It seemed to me such a comfortable way to talk. Well—” She yielded; he rose, helped her to her feet, and pressed the light into being.