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Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
217
XVIII
Her
actual
offspring
does
not
suffice
a
very
motherly
woman.
Such
a
woman
was
Mrs.
Batch.
Had
she
been
blest
with
a
dozen
children,
she
must
yet
have
regarded
herself
as
also
a
mother
to
whatever
two
young
gentlemen
were
lodging
under
her
roof.
Childless
but
for
Katie
and
Clarence,
she
had
for
her
successive
pairs
of
tenants
a
truly
vast
fund
of
maternal
feeling
to
draw
on.
Nor
were
the
drafts
made
in
secret.
To
every
gentleman,
from
the
outset,
she
proclaimed
the
relation
in
which
she
would
stand
to
him.
Moreover,
always
she
needed
a
strong
filial
sense
in
return:
this
was
only
fair.
Because
the
Duke
was
an
orphan,
even
more
than
because
he
was
a
Duke,
her
heart
had
with
a
special
rush
gone
out
to
him
when
he
and
Mr.
Noaks
became
her
tenants.
But,
perhaps
because
he
had
never
known
a
mother,
he
was
evidently
quite
incapable
of
conceiving
either
Mrs.
Batch
as
his
mother
or
himself
as
her
son.
Indeed,
there
was
that
in
his
manner,
in
his
look,
which
made
her
falter,
for
once,
in
exposition
of
her
theory--made
her
postpone
the
matter
to
some
more
favourable
time.
That
time
never
came,
somehow.
Still,
her
solicitude
for
him,
her
pride
in
him,
her
sense
that
he
was
a
great
credit
to
her,
rather
waxed
than
waned.
He
was
more
to
her
(such
are
the
vagaries
of
the
maternal
instinct)
than
Katie
or
Mr.
Noaks:
he
was
as
much
as
Clarence.
It
was,
therefore,
a
deeply
agitated
woman
who
now
came
heaving
up
into
the
Duke’s
presence.
His
Grace
was
“giving
notice”?
She
was
sure
she
begged
his
pardon
for
coming
up
so
sudden.
But
the
news
was
that
sudden.
Hadn’t
her
girl
made
a
mistake,
maybe?
Girls
were
so
vague-like
nowadays.
She
was
sure
it
was
most
kind
of
him
to
give
those
handsome
ear-rings.
But
the
thought
of
him
going
off
so
unexpected--middle
of
term,
too--with
never
a
why
or
a
but!
Well!
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