was something touching in their unworldly fears and diffident hopes,
something almost terrible in the way poor little Mrs. Hudson seemed
to flutter and quiver with intense maternal passion. She put forth one
timid conversational venture after another, and asked Rowland a number
of questions about himself, his age, his family, his occupations, his
tastes, his religious opinions. Rowland had an odd feeling at last that
she had begun to consider him very exemplary, and that she might
make, later, some perturbing discovery. He tried, therefore, to invent
something that would prepare her to find him fallible. But he could
think of nothing. It only seemed to him that Miss Garland secretly
mistrusted him, and that he must leave her to render him the service,
after he had gone, of making him the object of a little firm derogation.
Mrs. Hudson talked with low-voiced eagerness about her son.

"He 's very lovable, sir, I assure you. When you come to know him you
'll find him very lovable. He 's a little spoiled, of course; he has
always done with me as he pleased; but he 's a good boy, I 'm sure he 's
a good boy. And every one thinks him very attractive: I 'm sure he 'd be
noticed, anywhere. Don't you think he 's very handsome, sir? He features
his poor father. I had another--perhaps you 've been told. He was
killed." And the poor little lady bravely smiled, for fear of doing
worse. "He was a very fine boy, but very different from Roderick.
Roderick is a little strange; he has never been an easy boy. Sometimes
I feel like the goose--was n't it a goose, dear?" and startled by the
audacity of her comparison she appealed to Miss Garland--"the goose, or
the hen, who hatched a swan's egg. I have never been able to give him
what he needs. I have always thought that in more--in more brilliant
circumstances he might find his place and be happy. But at the same time
I was afraid of the world for him; it was so large and dangerous and
dreadful. No doubt I know very little about it. I never suspected, I