said little. A sort
of preternatural consciousness that he must keep his own secret, that he
must betray nothing to his mother, had come upon him. He sat now silent,
his little face twitching and working, a sudden new, unlooked-for horror
stealing over him, that he was to be separated from his mother; that he
was to be left behind while they went away. It did not seem possible,
and yet, with all the rapidity of a child's imagination, Geoff's mind
flashed over what might happen,--he to be left alone here, while _they_
went away. He saw his mother go smiling into the carriage, thinking
of the babies, in their little white hoods, little dolls--oh no, dear
little helpless creatures, to whom the boy's heart went out; his little
babies as well as his mother's. But of course she would think of them.
She must think of them. And Geoff would be left behind, with no one,
nobody to speak to, the great rooms all empty, only the servants about.
He remembered what it had been when his mother was married; but then he
had the hope that she would come back to him, that all would be well:
and now he knew that never, never, as of old, could he have her back.
Geoff did not budge from the table for some time after, but sat with his
elbows on it and his head in his hands, in the attitude which he had so
often been scolded for, with nobody to scold him or take any notice. He
thought to himself that he might put his elbows on the table as much as
he liked, and nobody would care. But this thought only made the position
more terrible. It was only the return of the servants to clear the table,
and the old butler's question, "What's the matter, Master Geoff?" that
roused him. The butler's tone was far too sympathetic. He was an old
servant, and the only one in the house who did not call poor little
Geoff My lord. But the boy was not going to accept sympathy. He sprang
up from the table with a "Nothing's the matter. I'm going out for a
ride," and hurried towards the stables, which were now his resource more
and more.

This knowledge rankled in Geoff's heart through all the time of his
mother's convalescence. He was very brave, very magnanimous, without
knowing that he was either. That he would not vex his mother was the
determination of his soul. She was very sweet, sweeter than ever, but
pale, and her hands so thin that you could see the light through them.
Though he anticipated with a dull anguish the time when she should go
away, when Warrender