Page:The Novels and Tales of Henry James, Volume 1 (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907).djvu/359

 flash from Mary's eyes the night before. It had been but a flash, for what provoked it had instantly vanished. Rowland, on this occasion, seeing the high delinquent instantly measure his peril, had mutely applauded the art of his recovery. If he had been drinking the quick consciousness sobered him; he had collected his wits with inimitable grace. The next moment, with a ringing jovial cry, he was folding the girl in his arms, and the next after he was beside his mother's cab, half smothered in her sobs and caresses. Rowland had recommended an hotel close at hand and had then discreetly retired. Roderick was at that time "playing up" to them all brilliantly, and Mary Garland's face was serene. It was clear now, twenty-four hours later; but her vision had none the less flared there for its minute. What had become of it? It had dropped down deep into her memory and was lying there for the present in the shade. From one day to another, Rowland yet said to himself, it would hold up its head, would begin to watch and listen, would rise again and confront him. Meanwhile he made the most of the hours—he passed them in the consciousness of being near her. The two ladies had passed the day indoors, resting, reacting, recovering. The younger, Rowland suspected, was not quite so spent as she suffered it to be assumed. She had remained with Mrs. Hudson to attend to her personal wants, which the latter seemed to think, now that she was in a foreign land with a southern climate and a Catholic religion, would forthwith be come very complex and formidable, though as yet 325