‘That would be very good,’ said the volunteer counsellor, with alacrity. ‘You could not do anything better, and I dare say he will do it if you say so. A man has a great deal of tenderness for his wife’s only child when he has lost her. You have your own love and the other too.’
‘Have I?’ said the girl wistfully. Then she remembered that to talk of her private affairs and household circumstances with a stranger was a wonderful dereliction of duty. She made herself quite stiff accordingly in obedience to propriety, and changed her tone.
‘Is not Oswald at home?’ she said. ‘I thought I should be sure to see him.’
‘Oswald is at home, but he keeps away at this hour. He overdoes it, I think; but sons like to have their mothers to themselves: I don’t think they like her to have such troops of friends. And Oswald, you know, is a man, and would like to be master.’
‘He has no right to be master!’ said Cara, the colour rising on her cheeks. ‘Why should not she have her friends?’
‘That is exactly what I tell him; but most likely he will understand you better. He is not my ideal of a young man; so you have no call to be angry with me on account of Oswald.’
‘I—angry with—you; when I don’t know you—when I never saw you before! I beg your pardon,’ cried Cara, fearing that perhaps this might sound rude; but if it was rude it was true.
‘Must you go?’ said Mrs. Meredith to her visitor. ‘Well, I will not delay you, for it is late; but that is all over, is it not? I cannot afford to be misunderstood by anyone I care for. Won’t you say “How d’ye do?” to Mr. Somerville, my old friend, whom you see always, and Miss Beresford, my young friend, whom you have never seen before?’
‘I have not time, indeed,’ said the stranger, with a vague bow towards the fireplace; ‘but I go away happy—it is all over, indeed. I shall know better than ever to listen to detractors and mischief-makers again.’
‘That is right,’ she said, giving him her hand once more. When he was gone she turned back with a little air of fatigue. ‘Somebody had persuaded that foolish boy that I thought him a bore. He is not a bore—except now and then; but he is too young,’ said Mrs. Meredith, shaking her head. ‘You young people are so exigent, Cara. You want always to be first; and in friendship that, you know, is impossible. All are equal on that ground.’