What have you been
doing?--dancing--riding, eh?"
He threw himself down beside her, and began an elder-brotherly
cross-examination, which lasted till Lady Tranmore returned and begged
him to go at once to his father.
When he returned to the drawing-room, Ashe found his mother alone. It
was growing dark, and she was sitting idle, her hands in her lap,
waiting for him.
"I must be off, dear," he said to her. "You won't come down and see me
take my seat?"
She shook her head.
"I think not. What did you think of your father?"
"I don't see much change," he said, hesitating.
"No, he's much the same."
"And you?" He slid down on the sofa beside her and threw his arm round
her. "Have you been fretting?"
Lady Tranmore made no reply. She was a self-contained woman, not readily
moved to tears. But he felt her hand tremble as he pressed it.
"I sha'n't fret now"--she said after a moment--"now that you've come
back."
Ashe's face took a very soft and tender expression.
"Mother, you know--you think a great deal too much of me--you're too
ambitious for me."
She gave a sound between a laugh and a sob, and, raising her hands, she
smoothed back his curly hair and held his face between them.
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