Mrs. Mowbray knew he was shrewd enough to take a hint, and that she could without discourtesy prevent his coming; still, she did not wish to do so. She had heard her husband's views, to which she generally deferred; but she liked Harding, and he had saved her son's life. Moreover, she had a suspicion that his influence would be good for the boy.
"I hope you will come whenever it pleases you," she said with quiet sincerity.
"It will please me very much. I'll make use of the privilege as long as he finds that I amuse him."
Harding went home with a feeling of half-exultant satisfaction. Lance, for whom he had a rather curious liking, had been unmistakably glad to see him and, what was more important, Mrs. Mowbray was now his friend. For all that, he knew that tact was needed: the Colonel, while no doubt grateful, did not approve of him, and he must carefully avoid doing anything that might imply a readiness to take advantage of the slight favor he had been granted. Harding was not an adventurer, and the situation was galling to his pride, but he was shrewd and was willing to make some sacrifice if it gave him an opportunity for seeing Beatrice.
When Harding returned a week later he met the girl for a few moments, and had to be content with this. Lance brightened up noticeably when he talked to him, and as he was leaving pressed him to come again; but the unqualified doctor, whom he met in the hall, did not seem satisfied with the patient's progress.
Harding waited for a while before he went back. He found Mrs. Mowbray alone on his arrival, and thought she looked anxious when he asked how Lance was getting on.
"He doesn't seem to improve as quickly as he ought, and Mr. Carson's puzzled," she said. "He tells me the injury is not serious enough to account for my boy's low condition, but he keeps restless and feverish, and doesn't sleep." Then, after a moment, she added confidentially: "One could imagine that he has something on his mind."
"Have you any suspicion what it is?"
"No—" She hesitated. "That is, nothing definite; and as he has given me no hint, it's possible that I'm mistaken in thinking that he is disturbed. But you may go in; you seem to cheer him."
Harding pondered this. He had been used to people who expressed their thoughts with frank directness, but he saw that Mrs. Mowbray was of a different stamp. She was most fastidious, yet she had taken him into her confidence as far as her reserve permitted. After all, there were things which a boy would confess to a man outside his family sooner than to his mother.