RODERICK HUDSON
word she deemed important for his private ear. She followed her son with intensely earnest eyes.
"I wish to tell you, sir," she said, "how deeply indebted, how very grateful, what a happy mother I am! I feel I owe you all of it. To find my poor boy so handsome, so prosperous, so elegant, so famous—and ever to have doubted of you! What must you think of me? You 're our guardian angel; it 's what Mary and I call you."
Rowland felt himself wear in answer to this speech an anxiously impenetrable face. He could only murmur that he was glad she found Roderick looking well. He had of course promptly asked himself if it would n't be his best line to give her a word of warning—turn the handle of the door through which, later on, disappointment and its train might enter. But he had determined to say nothing and simply to wait for Roderick to find effective inspiration in the eyes now so deeply resting on him. It was even to be supposed he was actually looking for it; he remained some time at the window with his cousin. But at last he turned away and came over to the fire with the first fine cloud already on his brightness. In what wrong place had the poor girl happened to touch him? She presently followed him, and for an instant Rowland observed her watch him as if he struck her as strange. "Strange enough," thought their companion, "he may seem to her if he will!" Roderick looked at his friend with a vague peremptory pressure, a sign to him that he too must really mount to the breach. "Heaven help us all!" Rowland tacitly groaned; "are they already giving on his nerves?"
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