"I wonder if she's thinking that I ought to be there too; or if I ought not, neither ought she. After all, I'm her son, and she might make a stand-up fight for me, if she would. He's fond of her, the old woman says, and proud of her, and well he may be. What's the use of it all, if she can't manage him? What fools women are! If they only could calculate at first, and take their own line from the beginning, they could manage any men. But she's afraid of him, and she lets him find it out. Well, well, it must be wretched enough for her, too. But why does she not come?"
He had to wait a little longer yet, for another quarter of an hour had elapsed before Mrs. Brookes returned.
"Is she coming?" he asked eagerly, when at length the pale-faced little woman gently entered the room.
"Yes, she is coming. She has to wait until the first lot are gone in to supper. Then master will not miss her."
The old woman came up to him, and took his right hand in hers, looking fondly, but keenly, into his face, and laying the other hand upon his shoulder. "George," she said, "George, my darling boy, I hope you have not brought her very bad news."
He tried to laugh as he loosed his hand, not unkindly, from the old woman's grasp.
"Do you suppose good news would have brought me here where I am forbidden--smuggled goods?"
She shook her head sorrowfully.
"At all events, you are alive and well to tell your ill news yourself, and that is everything to her," said Mrs. Brookes.
The next moment the door opened, and Mrs. Carruthers came in with a hurried step. George Dallas started forward, and caught her in his arms.