Sir Gavin, with a strange expression on his face, watched them as they descended, and when they reached the first landing, supposing themselves unseen, mother and son fell into each other’s arms and clung together. But Sir Gavin Hamilton stood watching—watching, while that which did duty for him as a heart was deeply stirred.
Below were Madame Ziska and St. Arnaud. St. Arnaud was just saying:
“I am getting frightened, they are so quiet; Gavin must have thrown his father out of the window,” when Lady Hamilton and Gavin appeared.
“What did Gavin do?” anxiously cried Madame Ziska.
“All I could have asked of him,” replied his mother. She did not say all she could have wished. She had hoped that he would offer his hand to his father, but he had not done it. However, glad to have gained so much from him, Lady Hamilton would not be too exacting. And Madame Ziska, by way of encouraging Gavin, said what she did not feel:
“What a sweet, forgiving Gavin is it!” and patted his shoulder.
Lady Hamilton then said simply that she would remain until after the next levee, which she would attend with Sir Gavin.
“And then you will come back to us,” cried Gavin.
“If you do not come here,” said St. Arnaud, out of Gavin’s hearing, and exchanging glances with Madame Ziska.
Lady Hamilton led them through the splendid lower floor, the bewigged and bepowdered footmen obsequiously showing the way, and at the same time indicating they knew who was mistress there. On parting, Gavin promised faithfully to return the next day.