MOTHER AND SON.
In the morning he breakfasted alone. A son with a different sort of
mother, might then have sought her in her bedroom; but John had never
within his memory seen his mother in her bedroom, and after what lie had
heard the night before, could hardly be inclined to go there to her now.
Within half an hour, however, a message was brought him, requesting his
presence in her ladyship's dressing-room.
He went with his teeth set.
"Whose horse is that in the stable, John?" she said, the moment their
eyes met.
"Mr. Whichcote's, madam," answered John: _mother_ he could not say.
"You intend to keep up your late relations with those persons?"
"I do."
"You mean to marry the hussy?"
"I mean to marry the lady to whom you give that epithet. There are those
who think it not quite safe for you to call other people names!"
She rose and came at him as if she would strike him. John stood
motionless. Except a woman had a knife in her hand, he said, he would not
even avoid a blow from her. "A woman can't hurt you much; she can only
break your heart!" he said. "My mother would not know a heart when she
had broken it!" he added.
He stood and looked at her.
She turned away, and sat down again. I think she felt the term of her
power at hand.
"The man told you then, that, if you did not return immediately, I would
get him into trouble?"
"He has told me nothing.
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