The major uttered a sigh of relief, and smoothing his beard, and with his eyes beaming, he walked straight into the drawing-room, where Glynne was seated, looking very pale and beautiful, with her head resting upon her soft white hand, gazing full at the lamp. Marjorie and three lady friends were in the drawing-room, but they had evidently, out of respect for the young girl's saddened state, retired to the end of the room, where they were engaged in conversation in a low tone of voice. Glynne did not stir as the major entered, for she was deep in thought; but she turned to him with a sweet, grave smile as he laid his hand upon hers. "Will you come into the conservatory, my dear?" he said gently. "I want to talk to you." She rose without a word, and laid her hand upon his arm, letting her uncle lead her into the great, softly-lit corridor of flowers; while, as the major realised the difficulties of the task he had before him, he grew silent, so that they had walked nearly to the end before he spoke. "My dear child," he said, in a husky, hesitating voice, for, though he had often dashed with his men at the charge full into the dangers of the battlefield, he felt a peculiar sensation of nervous dread now at having to broach the business upon which he had come. "My dear child," he began again. "My dear uncle," she answered, tenderly. "You know my feelings respecting your approaching marriage?" She looked up at him sadly, and the tears stood in her eyes. "Yes, uncle, dear, I know," she replied slowly. "Well, your father has now come over to my side, and he gives me his consent to see you, to win from you--" "Hush, uncle--dear uncle," said Glynne softly. "I know you love me-- dearly, as if I were your own child." "I do, I do indeed," he cried. "Then pray spare me all these painful words." "Plain words to save you pain in the future," he said tenderly. "It is too late, uncle. I told my father that. It is too late." "No, no, my darling, it is not too late," cried the major excitedly. "You are afraid of the talk and scandal. Bah! let them talk and scandalise till they get tired. What is it to us? Look here; we'll start for the Continent to-morrow, and stay away till this business is forgotten. A nine days' wonder, my child. There, there, you consent. By George, we'll be off to-night--_now_. I'll go and order the carriage at once. It will be round by the time you have got a few things together in a bag." "Stop, uncle, dear uncle." "No, no; your father will go with us, too." Glynne shook her head, and, putting one arm round his neck, kissed the old man fondly. "Hush, dear," she said; "you forget. I cannot--I will not hear another word. I am determined that I will hold to my promise." "But, Glynne, my child," cried the major appealingly. "It is too late--it is too late," responded Glynne. "And now, uncle, if you love me, spare me further suffering."