A Country Gentleman and His Family · Chapter 6 (2/2)

“Yes,” she said, with a little tremor. “It is to me that it will make the most difference. And that poor young creature, so much younger than I, who might be my child!”

“Do you think, when she gets over all this, that it will be much to her? People say⁠—”

“That is a strange question to ask,” she said, with agitation⁠—“a very strange question to ask. When we get over all this⁠—that is, the shock, and the change, and the awe of the going away⁠—what will it be then, to all of us? We shall just settle down once more into our ordinary life, as if nothing had happened. That is what will come of it. That is what always comes of it. There is nothing but the common routine, which goes on and on forever.”

She was excited, and shed tears, at which he wondered a little, yet was compassionate of, remembering that she was a woman and worn out. He put his hand upon hers, which lay on his arm. “Poor mother!” he murmured, caressing her hand with his, and feeling all manner of tender cares for her awake in him. Then he added softly, returning in spite of himself to other thoughts, “The force of habit and of the common routine, as you say, cannot be so strong when one is young.”

“No,” she said; and then, after a pause, “If it is poor Lady Markland you are thinking of, she has her child.”

This gave him a certain shock, in the softening of his heart. “The child is the thing I don’t like!” he exclaimed, almost sharply. Then he added, “I think the dawn must be near; I feel very chilly. Mother, come in; as you say, it is the best thing not to think, but to go to bed.”