"No," said the major quietly. "I'm going to stop and help, if it's only to see that Miss Lucy here has rest and food." Volume 3, Chapter XVI. CELESTIAL MATTERS. Sir John nodded and went straight back to Brackley to find Glynne dressed and impatiently pacing the drawing-room, pale even to ghastliness, and with eyes dilated and looking large and wild. "How long you have been!" she panted, catching his hand. "Tell me quickly--how is he? Tell me the worst." "The worst is that he is very bad. It is a serious seizure, my dear, but the doctors give hope." "Father, this long waiting has been more than I could bear," she cried hysterically. "I felt as if I should go mad. Now take me there--at once." "Take you--to The Firs?" "Yes; now. The carriage is ready. I told them to have it waiting." "But, Glynne--my darling, is it--is it quite right that you should go? Well, perhaps as Lucy's friend." "I am not going as Lucy's friend, father," cried Glynne; "this is no time for paltry subterfuge. I am going to him who is stricken down. I must go; I cannot stay away." Sir John looked serious, but beyond knitting his brows, he said nothing, only rang for the carriage, and then hurried away to fortify himself with a tumbler of claret and some biscuits. In a few minutes they were being rapidly driven to The Firs, Glynne remaining perfectly silent till they were near the gates, when she laid her hand upon her father's. "Don't think me strange," she said in a low voice. "I feel as if I must go to him now. I may never hear his voice again." They were shown into the drawing-room, where, at Oldroyd's wish, Mrs Alleyne had been taken by Lucy to partake of some refreshment, and, as Glynne advanced into the dimly-lighted room, their neighbour rose from her seat and stood confronting her. "Well?" she said bitterly; "have you come to see your work?" Glynne did not speak, but catching at Mrs Alleyne's hand, sank upon her knees, while Sir John drew back with Lucy. "Why do you come here?" said Mrs Alleyne, after a pause, painful in its silence to all. The door closed softly just then, and Glynne started and glanced round to see that she was alone with Mrs Alleyne. Then she uttered a low, weary cry. "You do not know--you do not know how I have suffered, or you would not speak to me like this," she whispered. "Suffered!" retorted Mrs Alleyne, bitterly; "what have your sufferings been to his? Woman, you came upon this house like a curse, to play with his true, noble heart; and when you had, with your vile coquetry, won it, you tossed it from you with insult, leaving him to suffer patiently, till nature could bear no more; and now you have come to look upon the wreck you have made. But you were not to go unpunished. Do you hear me, woman--he, my brave, true son, is stricken to his death."