“I—I don’t know, I did not know it myself until, I think, within the last few days. I dare say I’m a great fool. I’m sure I am, in fact, and I ought not to have allowed—but I really did not know.”
He suspected that Trevor had told all he knew of his story, and that the women, with the sagacity of their sex, had divined the rest.
“You see, Mr. Herbert, I have not guessed amiss. When I see a young person very much dejected and distrait, I at once suspect a romance; and now let me say a word of comfort, derived from observation. As I said before—I’ve known such things happen—never despair. There is a spark of romance in our sex as well as in yours. I think I may be of use to you. I dare say things are not quite so desperate as they appear. But do trust me—do be frank.”
“I will. I’ll tell you everything. I—I don’t know where to begin. But I’m so much obliged. I’ve no one to speak to, and⸺”
At this moment the “darling boy” Howard bounced from behind a thick shrub, with a shriek which was echoed by his fond mother, who, if anything so dignified could jump, did jump, and even William’s manly heart made an uncomfortable bounce in his breast. At the same time Master Howard Seymour turned his ankle, and tumbled with a second horrid roar on the walk, from which his mother and his instructor lifted him, not much hurt, but bellowing in a fury, and requiring to be conducted for comfort to the house.
“I shall call upon you again, Mr. Herbert, when my poor darling is better, and we can—there, there! my rosebud,” began Mrs. Kincton Knox, distracted between her curiosity and her compassion.
“Shall I take him on my back? Get up.” And so, he took the urchin, who was hopping round them in circles with hideous uproar, in his arms, and bore him away beside his anxious parent towards the house, where having ministered to the sufferer, Mrs. Kincton Knox looked into the drawing-room, and found Miss Clara seated by the fire, with her slender feet as usual, on a boss, reading her novel.
Mrs. Kincton Knox, stooping over her, kissed her, and Miss Clara, knowing that the unusual caress indicated something extraordinary, looked up with a dreary curiosity into her mother’s face. When they were tête-à-tête, these ladies did not trouble one another much with smiles or caresses. Still her mother was smiling with a mysterious triumph, and nodded encouragingly upon her.
“Well?” asked Miss Clara.
“I think you’ll find that I was right, and that somebody will ask you a question before long,” answered her mother, with an oracular smile.