"Thankye, major, thankye," cried Rolph, seizing his hand and shaking it violently. "You don't want to say anything more to me, do you?" "N-no," said the major, whose inward thoughts made him look ten years older. "N-no." "That's right," cried the captain, with a sigh of relief. "Shall we go in to lunch now, Sir John?" "To be sure, yes, my boy. Go on. I daresay Glynne is waiting. Come along, Jem." He took his brother's arm; and, as the captain disappeared,-- "Thankye, Jem, thankye," he said earnestly. "Now for lunch. I'm as hungry as a hunter, and my mind's at rest." "Humph!" Volume 1, Chapter VI. DUST IN THE OBSERVATORY. "Well, Mr Oldroyd, and what do you think? Pray, tell me frankly. You have found out what is the matter with him?" "Yes, ma'am, I think I have." "Then, pray, speak." Mrs Alleyne leaned forward with every curve in her face as well as her eyes contradicting the form of her words. "Pray speak," sounded and looked like a command to speak at once under pain of the lady's displeasure. She was a woman of over fifty, with white hair and high clear forehead; but what would have been a handsome face was detracted from by a pinched, care-worn expression, as if there was some great trouble upon her mind; and this trouble had soured her disposition, and made her imperious and harsh. Her cold and rather repellent manner was not softened by her formal white cap or her dress, which was a stiff, black silk, that in its old age appeared to have doubts as to whether it ought not to be a brown, save where it was relieved by white cuffs and a plain muslin kerchief, such as is seen in old pictures, loosely crossed over the breast, and secured behind. Neither did the room and its furnishings tend to soften matters, for, though good, everything looked worn and faded, notably the ancient Turkey carpet, and the stiff maroon curtains that had turned from red into drab, and hung limp and long beside the two tall gaunt windows, looking out upon a clump of desolate Scotch firs. The rest of the furniture was depressing, and did not suggest comfort. The solid mahogany chairs were stiff, and the worn horse-hair coverings would have been places of torture to a child; the great dining-table was highly polished and full of reflections, but it had nothing pleasant to reflect, and whoever looked, longed to see it draped with some warm, rich cloth. While the great high-backed sideboard stood out like a polished mahogany sarcophagus upon which someone had placed a bronze funereal urn, though really inside that tomb-like structure there was a cellarette with a decanter or two of generous wine; and the bronze urn contained no ashes, merely an iron heater to make it hiss when it was used for tea.