Mr. Ravenor rose at her entrance and bowed with the easy grace of a man of the world. My mother returned his greeting with a stately self-possession which matched his own; but it struck me, watching them both closely, that, while he was perfectly collected, she was in reality far from being so. I could see the delicate white fingers of her left hand fold themselves convulsively around the lace handkerchief which she was carrying, and when she entered a shiver—gone in a moment and perceptible only to me, because my eyes were fastened upon her—shook her slim, lithe figure.
But in the few commonplace remarks which first passed between them there was nothing in speech or manner that betrayed the least embarrassment. She answered him as one of his own order, graciously, yet just allowing him to see that his visit was a surprise to her and that she expected him to declare its purpose. I have dwelt somewhat upon this meeting for reasons which will be sufficiently apparent when I have finished my story.
After a few remarks about the farm, the crops, and the favourable weather, he gave the wished-for explanation.
“I have come to say a few words to you about your son, Mrs. Morton,” he began abruptly.
She and I looked equally astonished.
“I am a man of few words,” he continued. “The few which I desire to say upon this subject had better be said, I think, to you alone, Mrs. Morton.”
I would have left the room at once, but my mother prevented me. She laid a trembling hand upon my shoulder, and drew me closer to her.
“You can have nothing to say to me, Mr. Ravenor, which it would not be better for him to hear, especially as you say that it concerns him.”
He shrugged his high, square shoulders, as though indifferent; but I fancied, nevertheless, that a shade of annoyance lingered in his face for a moment.
“Very good!” he said shortly. “Rumour may have told you, Mrs. Morton, if you ever listen to such things, that I am a very wicked man. Possibly! I don’t deny it! At any rate, I am, by disposition and custom, profoundly selfish. I owe to your son a luxury—that of having found my thoughts withdrawn from myself for a few minutes—with me a most rare event.