His mother took his arm and walked with him up and down the room, without talking to him at all. But her firm step and firm clasp seemed to soothe—almost force him into composure. She had over him at once a mother's influence and a father's control.
Meanwhile, Captain Rothesay busied, or seemed to busy himself, with his numerous letters, and very wisely kept nearly out of sight.
As soon as her son appeared a little recovered from his vexation, Mrs. Gwynne said,
“Now, Harold, if you are quite willing, I want to talk to you for a few minutes. Shall it be now or this evening?”
“This evening I shall ride over to Waterton.”
“What! not one evening to spare for your mother, or”——she corrected herself, “for your beloved books?”
He moved restlessly.
“Nay, I have had enough of study; I must have interest, amusement, excitement. I think I have drunk all the world's pleasures dry, except this one. Mother, don't keep it from me; I know no rest except I am beside Sara.”
He rarely spoke to her so freely, and, despite her pain, the mother was touched.
“Go, then, go to Sara; and the matter I wished to speak upon we will discuss now.”