There was a hungry intentness about Mrs. Romayne’s mouth now, and about her clenched hand, which only a tremendous effort and the sacrifice of all reality of tone could have kept out of her voice.
“To tell you the truth,” she said lightly, “there was rather a catastrophe in the autumn; a girl, you know, silly boy—the usual thing! I fancy it has upset him a good deal in every way, and there is nothing like marriage for settling a young man down after such an affair!”
She paused as though—while her confidence in her statement, and the point of view from which she had presented the matter stood in no need of confirmation—she yet craved to hear it subscribed to by another voice. And Loring nodded with grave, attentive assent.
“Quite so!” he said sententiously.
“Now, of course,” she continued, “of course a woman can’t know all the ins and outs of a young man’s life, even when she’s his mother. It’s out of the question; and to be very frank with you”—there was something painful now about the lightness of her tone—“his mother had to be rather autocratic, and the boy didn’t much like it. Consequently I can’t feel sure that—well, that she knows even as much as she might about his affairs, now! That’s why I’m confiding in you in this expansive way! I want you to look after him for me!”
Loring changed his position, and nodded again gravely and comprehendingly.
“I understand!” he said slowly. “I understand!” The statement was true in far wider sense than Mrs. Romayne could be aware of. There was a moment’s silence, during which he seemed to deliberate deeply on the facts presented to him, watched intently by Mrs. Romayne; and then he roused himself, as it were. “I won’t say that your confidence in me gives me great pleasure,” he said, “because I hope you know that. I will simply say that I will do all I can!”
The words were admirably spoken, with a gentleness and consideration of tone and manner which were all the more striking from their contrast with his usual demeanour; and they carried an impression of strength and sympathy such as no woman could have resisted. A strange spasm as of intense relief passed across Mrs. Romayne’s face, and for the moment she did not speak. Then she said low and hurriedly:
“I have heard that he plays, and it—it worries me! A boy will often listen to a friend whom he respects, and—and—I rely on you.”
“I consider myself honoured!”