"A message must be sent to my cousin," she said in her sweet, musical voice; "the wedding cannot take place to-day." "No, no; of course not," cried the major. "And I thought it would be kinder to him, poor fellow, for me to be the bearer of these terrible tidings. A letter would be so cold and dreadful. Oh, Sir John," she cried with a hysterical sob, as she flung herself at his knees, "it is too horrible to speak of. Poor darling Glynne! My poor cousin! It will drive him mad!" "Hush, my dear; be calm; try and be calm," whispered Sir John, laying his hand gently upon her head. "Yes," she said amidst her sobs, "I am trying so hard, dear Sir John, for everybody's sake. My poor aunt! It will nearly kill her. I thought it would be so much better if I went myself to break the dreadful news." "Yes," said Sir John, raising her. "Heaven bless you for your forethought. It is a time when we want a gentle woman's help." He looked at his brother, who read his wish. "I will order the carriage round," he said. "In an hour?" "No, no, as soon as possible," said Marjorie wildly. "They must not hear the news from the village. Poor, poor, darling Glynne!" she cried, bursting into a fresh burst of sobs, which made her words almost inaudible. "All her jewels gone, too. She must have been trying to protect them when the wretches struck her down." Within half-an-hour Marjorie was on her way back to The Warren; and soon after breakfast, of the wedding guests not one was left, while the news rapidly spread that "Doctor" Oldroyd had been fetched suddenly in the night to Brackley, where he found Sir John's daughter in a violent fever, and that she was now delirious, and in danger of being taken to the church as a bride, indeed, but as the bride of death. Volume 3, Chapter X. THE LITTLE ORB TURNS ROUND. There was but one thought in the minds of father and uncle at Brackley, and that was to silence busy tongues, get Glynne sufficiently well to move, and go right away abroad; and in Oldroyd they had a willing coadjutor, and one who seemed not to have a thought beyond his profession. The major had been half mad, and ready to follow the bent of his suspicions again and again; but robbery as well as outrage appeared to have influenced the man who had escaped unseen, since the greater part of the valuable jewels, including a diamond bracelet given by Marjorie to the bride, were missing, and he felt that he was wrong. Sir John prevailed. "Jem," he said, "if I knew who it was I'd shoot him ike a dog--curse him! No: I couldn't wait to fire, I'd strangle him; but I can't have this published abroad if we can hush it up. I won't have my child dragged into a witness box to give evidence against the devil who has wrought us this ill. We must bear it, Jem, and wait." "But, my dear Jack--" "But, my dear Jem--I am her father. What would our darling wish if she could speak to us--if we could speak to her upon what it would be best to do?"