“Leave them, dear, till you are stronger, that is my advice; and I know more about trouble than you do,” Mrs. Lennox said.
Mrs. Trevanion gave a glance around her. There was a faint smile upon her face. The three gentlemen sitting by did not know even that she looked at them, but they felt each like a culprit, guilty and responsible. Her eyes seemed to appeal speechlessly to earth and heaven, yet with an almost humorous consciousness of good Mrs. Lennox’s superiority in experience. “I should like Rosalind and Sophy to go with you for a change,” she said, quietly. “The little ones will be best at home. Russell is not good for Sophy, Rosalind; but for the little ones it does not matter so much. She is very kind and careful of them. That covers a multitude of sins. I think, for their sakes, she may stay.”
“I would not keep her, mamma. She is dangerous; she is wicked.”
“What do you mean by that, Rose? Russell! I should as soon think of mamma going as of Russell going,” cried Rex. “She says mamma hates her, but I say—”
“I wonder,” said Mrs. Trevanion, “that you do not find yourself above nursery gossip, Rex, at your age. Never mind, it is a matter to be talked of afterwards. You are not going away immediately, John?”
“Not as long as—” He paused and looked at her wistfully, with eyes that said a thousand things. “As long as I can be of use,” he said.
“As long as— I think I know what you mean,” Mrs. Trevanion said.
The conversation was full of these sous-entendus. Except Mrs. Lennox and Rex, there was a sense of mystery and uncertainty in all the party. Rosalind followed every speaker with her eyes, inquiring what they could mean. Mrs. Trevanion was the most composed of the company, though meanings were found afterwards in every word she said. The servants had gone from the room while the latter part of this conversation went on. After a little while she rose, and all of them with her. She called Reginald, who followed reluctantly, feeling that he was much too important a person to retire with the ladies. As she went out, leaning upon his arm, she waved her hand to the other gentlemen. “Good-night,” she said. “I don’t think I am equal to the drawing-room to-night.”
“What do you want with me, mother? It isn’t right, it isn’t, indeed, to call me away like a child. I’m not a child; and I ought to be there to hear what they are going to settle. Don’t you see, mamma, it’s my concern?”
“You can go back presently, Rex; yes, my boy, it is your concern. I want you to think so, dear. And the little ones are your concern. Being the head of a house means a great deal. It means thinking of everything, taking care of the brothers and sisters, not only being a person of importance, Rex—”