CHAPTER XXII THE WIDOW FAMILY ARRANGEMENTS--MOTHER AND SON--SEPARATE INTERESTS--A WIDOW’S DAY-DREAMS--FEMALE CONFIDENCES--THE RULE OF CONTRARY “My dear Mount, I think, after all, I shall spend the winter at Bubbleton,” said Lady Mount Helicon to her hopeful son, as they sat one sunny afternoon in her well-furnished drawing-room. London was emptying fast; a few of the lingerers still contrived to keep up a semblance of gaiety, and those who stayed on, like Lady Mount Helicon, because they had no country-houses to go to, voted it _so_ much pleasanter now the crush and hurry of the season was over. But even these could not conceal from themselves that they were but “the last roses of summer,” that “all the world” was rushing out of town, and they had no business here any longer. The water-carts were getting very slack, and the dust unbearable; the Ride and the ring were fitting haunts for a hermit, and the Serpentine was gloomy as the Styx. Dinadam was inhaling appetite in his deer-forest--Long-Acre was tempting Providence in his yacht--Mrs. Blacklamb was breaking hearts at Cowes--ministers had celebrated their many defeats during the session by their annual fish-dinner at Greenwich--and grouse were advertised at five shillings a brace in Leadenhall Market. Yes, the season was over, and Mount would not have been here instead of in Perthshire had it not been for the absolute necessity of his writing his autograph in person for the ulterior disappointment of a Hebrew, and his own immediate benefit. He was an excellent son when he had nothing better to do, and now sat for hours with his mother and talked over his own plans and hers with the most perfect open-heartedness. “Bubbleton,” said he, “mother, and why Bubbleton?” “Can’t you see, Mount?” replied her ladyship; “Bubbleton is within visiting distance of Newton-Hollows.” “What then?” rejoined her son; “I thought you had made up your mind to drop them when you found they were of no use.” “So I should, my dear,” confessed the diplomatic lady, “if things had turned out as I expected; but don’t you see that the game is not yet half played out? That unfortunate boy who went off to the Cape has been severely wounded; you know they put on mourning for him, thinking he was dead; and it is quite on the cards that he may not recover; he never looked strong; then our little friend is as great an heiress as ever; and I am sure, with _your_ eloquence, you could easily persuade her that it was jealousy, or pique, or something equally flattering, that made you so remiss for a time, and it would be all _on_ again. Besides, I have been making a good many inquiries lately in a roundabout way, and I find that, even if the ‘beau cousin’ should return safe and sound, there will be a large sum of ready money to which the girl will be entitled when she comes of age. You want money, Mount, I fancy?”