Mother and Son

Lady Dunborough stood, as if turned to stone by the news. In the great
hall below, a throng of servants, the Pitt livery prominent among them,
were hurrying to and fro, with a clatter of dishes and plates, a
ceaseless calling of orders, a buzz of talk, and now and then a wrangle.

But the lobby and staircase of the west wing, on the first floor of
which she stood--and where the great man lay, at the end of a softly
lighted passage, his door guarded by a man and a woman seated motionless
in chairs beside it--were silent by comparison; the bulk of the guests
were still at supper or busy in the east or inferior wing; and my lady
had a moment to think, to trace the consequences of this inopportune
arrival, and to curse, now more bitterly than before, the failure of her
attempt to eject the girl from the house.

However, she was not a woman to lie down to her antagonists, and in the
depth of her stupor she had a thought. Her brow relaxed; she clutched
the maid's arm. 'Quick,' she whispered, 'go and fetch Mr. Thomasson--he
is somewhere below. Bring him here, but do not let Mr. Dunborough see
you as you pass! Quick, woman--run!' The maid flew on her errand, leaving her mistress to listen and fret on
the stairs, in a state of suspense almost unbearable. She caught her
son's voice in the entrance hall, from which stately arched doorways led
to the side lobbies; but happily he was still at the door, engaged in
railing at a servant; and so far all was well. At any moment, however,
he might stride into the middle of the busy group in the hall; and then
if he saw Thomasson before the tutor had had his lesson, the trick, if
not the game, was lost.