But the answer he wanted, the answer which would have enabled him to continue his reassurances on the purely personal line, was not forthcoming. Mrs. Romayne neither spoke nor moved. He had no intention of risking his position by foolhardiness, so he adjusted his line of argument to the darkness in which her silence left him.
“As I said, however,” he continued gently, “if you prefer to talk to him on the subject, and ask him to give it up, no doubt he will do so rather than distress you! And if you lay your commands on me to that effect, I will certainly refuse to go any further with him! But may I say that I think you would be wiser to let things take their course? It is not a good thing to thwart a young man in the frame of mind you have hinted at as being Julian’s at present. If you can conquer your horror of the idea, I am sure you will be better satisfied in the end!”
There was a dead silence. At last Mrs. Romayne raised her head slowly, not turning her face towards Loring, but looking straight before her, as though utterly oblivious of his personal presence. There was a strange, fleeting dignity about her drawn face, with its wide, ghastly eyes; the dignity which comes from horror confronted.
“Take their course!” she said in a still, far-away voice. She paused a moment, and then went on in the same tone. “You think this is—inevitable?” The last word came with a strange ring.
“I think that any attempt at its prevention would be most undesirable,” said Loring. “It might lead—of course, it is not very likely, but still it is possible—to private speculations on Master Julian’s part!”
“Very well, then!” There was a curious, hard steadiness in her tone, as of one who perforce concedes a point to an adversary, and braces every nerve afresh to face the new situation thus created.
“That is like you!” exclaimed Loring admiringly. The tone of her voice had passed him by. “You will be glad, I know! Now, let me say again how awfully sorry I am to have distressed you, and then I’ll go. You’ll be glad to get rid of me!”
She did not seem to hear the words, but as his voice ceased, she turned her face slowly towards him with a vague, uncertain look upon it, as though her consciousness was struggling back to him, and the life he represented, across a great gulf. She looked at him a moment, and then that dignity, and a strange pathos which that groping look had possessed, gave way before a ghastly smile.
“I’m afraid I’ve been making myself most ridiculous!” she said, and there was a difficult, uncertain sprightliness about her weak voice. “So awfully sorry! I’m rather absurd about speculation. Old memories with which I needn’t bore you! You’ll look after my boy, then? Thanks!” She held out her hand as she spoke with a little affected gesture, but as he placed his hand in it her fingers closed with an icy clutch. “And now, do you know, I must send you away! Too bad, isn’t it? But there is such a thing as dressing for dinner.”
“Quite so,” returned Loring gaily. “It is very good of you to have been bothered with me so long! Good-bye!”