Chapter 9 - Page 2

and with an air of clinging confidence in Rowland which told him how
faithfully time had served him, in her imagination. But her fright was
over, though she was still catching her breath a little, like a person
dragged ashore out of waters uncomfortably deep. She was excessively
bewildered and confused, and seemed more than ever to demand a tender
handling from her friends. Before Miss Garland, Rowland was distinctly
conscious that he trembled. He wondered extremely what was going on in
her mind; what was her silent commentary on the incidents of the night
before. He wondered all the more, because he immediately perceived that
she was greatly changed since their parting, and that the change was by
no means for the worse. She was older, easier, more free, more like
a young woman who went sometimes into company. She had more beauty
as well, inasmuch as her beauty before had been the depth of her
expression, and the sources from which this beauty was fed had in
these two years evidently not wasted themselves. Rowland felt almost
instantly--he could hardly have said why: it was in her voice, in her
tone, in the air--that a total change had passed over her attitude
towards himself. She trusted him now, absolutely; whether or no she
liked him, she believed he was solid. He felt that during the coming
weeks he would need to be solid. Mrs. Hudson was at one of the smaller
hotels, and her sitting-room was frugally lighted by a couple of
candles. Rowland made the most of this dim illumination to try to detect
the afterglow of that frightened flash from Miss Garland's eyes
the night before. It had been but a flash, for what provoked it had
instantly vanished. Rowland had murmured a rapturous blessing on
Roderick's head, as he perceived him instantly apprehend the situation.
If he had been drinking, its gravity sobered him on the spot; in a
single moment he collected his wits. The next moment, with a ringing,
jovial cry, he was folding the young girl in his arms, and the next
he was beside his mother's carriage, half smothered in her sobs and
caresses. Rowland had recommended a hotel close at hand, and had then
discreetly withdrawn. Roderick was at this time doing his part superbly,

and Miss Garland's brow was serene. It was serene now, twenty-four hours
later; but nevertheless, her alarm had lasted an appreciable moment.
What had become of it? It had dropped down deep into her memory, and
it was lying there for the present in the shade. But with another
week, Rowland said to himself, it would leap erect again; the lightest
friction would strike a spark from it. Rowland thought he had schooled
himself to face the issue of Mary Garland's advent, casting it even in
a tragical phase; but in her personal presence--in which