"Oh, great Heaven!" she moaned, lifting up her wan face to the grey sky, "if this should be true--it must be true--I can see he is speaking the truth! Reginald to sink to that--no, no! I'll go and see the vicar. I will tell him all--all! We must save him before it is too late!" With feverish impatience she began to walk down the street on her way to the vicarage, intent only on finding some means of saving the man she loved. And the man who had no woman to save him slouched wearily along the road--a lonely, desolate figure, with only the grey sky above and the grey earth below, with no hope, no peace, no love awaiting him, but only the blank, black shadow of approaching sorrow brooding over his life with sombre wings. CHAPTER XXX. A MOTHER'S AFFECTION. _Niobe_. From cruel Ph[oe]bus all my children fly. _Chorus_. Fly then, oh Queen, else will they bring thee harm. _Niobe_. What evil counsel is upon thy tongue? _Chorus_. The counsel that would save thee from thyself. _Niobe_. A mother's love should thus protect her child. _Chorus_. From such protection cometh death to thee. _Niobe_. Death will be welcome if it cometh thus For naught thou knowest of true motherhood Thinking that fear of death will drive me hence To leave mine offspring to Ph[oe]bean darts. The next day was Sunday, and during the night there was a heavy fall of snow, so the Garsworth folk were not a little astonished, upon rising in the morning, to find the ground white, and the sky of a dull, leaden colour. Una had seen the vicar, and, in consequence of the interview she had with him, had written a letter to Reginald, which she was enclosing in an envelope when Patience Allerby entered in order to clear away the breakfast-things. She saw that Una had been writing to Reginald, and a gleam of interest crossed her stolid face as she looked eagerly at her mistress. Una guessed her thoughts, and, knowing the woman's deep interest in Reginald, arising, as she thought, from the fact of Patience being his nurse, spoke to her on the subject. "I am writing to Mr. Blake," she said, closing the envelope, "as I am anxious for him to return to Garsworth." "He is all right, is he not, Miss Una?" asked Patience, anxiously. "Oh, yes, I think so," replied Una, doubtfully, "but I have been talking with the vicar, and he agrees with me that it is dangerous for Reginald to be in London." "Danger--from whom?" "Mr. Beaumont." "Mr. Beaumont!" echoed Patience, in a harsh voice. "What has he been doing to my boy?" Una looked at her in astonishment, for the whole face of the woman seemed transformed, and instead of wearing its usual calm expression it was convulsed with stormy passions. For once the mask had fallen off, and Una recognized the terrible force of character hidden under this woman's placid exterior. The housekeeper also felt that she had betrayed herself and strove to recover her lost ground by an explanation.