I hesitated and wished that I could get away; but Lady Silchester was standing immediately in front of me.
“Your ladyship will pardon me,” I said, “but might not your question be better addressed to Mr. Ravenor?”
She bit her lip and moved haughtily to one side. I made a movement as though to pass her, but she turned suddenly and prevented me.
“Mr. Morton,” she said, a little nervously, “my brother said that you were going to Dr. Randall’s, I believe?”
I admitted that such was the fact.
“I daresay you know that my son is there,” she continued, “and I am afraid he’s not behaving exactly as he should. Of course, we don’t hear anything definite; but Cecil is very good-natured, easily led into anything, and I am a little doubtful about his companions there. Now, Mr. Morton, you’re not much more than a boy yourself, of course; but you don’t look as though you would care for the sort of thing that I’m afraid Cecil gets led into. I do wish that you and he could be friends, and that—that—”
She broke off, as though expecting me to say something, and I felt a little awkward.
“It’s very kind of you to think so well of me, when you don’t know anything about me,” I said, twirling my cap in my hands; “but you forget that I am only a farmer’s son, and perhaps your son would not care to be friends with me.”
“My son, whatever his faults may be, has all the instincts of a gentleman,” Lady Silchester answered proudly; “and if he liked you for yourself, it would make no difference, even if you were a tradesman’s son. Promise me that, if you have the opportunity, you will do what you can?”
“Oh, yes; I’ll promise that, with pleasure!” I assured her.