The Star-Gazers Part 66

"She thinks that she is bound to him, and that it is impossible to retract, even if she wished."

"But doesn't she wish to run back from this wretched business?"

"No, she does not wish to run back from her promise."

"I don't believe it," cried the major, over whose white forehead the veins stood up like a pink network.

"It is true all the same," said Sir John sadly. "If she had but expressed the slightest wish, I'd have seen Rolph, even at this eleventh hour, and, as he would have called it, the match should be off."

"I will go and see her myself, Jack. I don't want to insult you, my dear brother, but she does look up to me and my opinion a little. Let me try and win her to my way of thinking, and let's get this wretched business stopped. She would never be happy, I am sure."

"Go and see her, Jem, by all means."

"You give me your leave?"

"I do."

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."

He waited for a few minutes, and resumed the attack, but without effect; and just as he was gazing despairingly in his niece's face Sir John entered, looking inquiringly at both, when Glynne went smilingly to his side at once, and laid her hands upon his breast.

"Dear father," she said tenderly, "let my last few hours at home be undisturbed by pain."

"My darling," said Sir John softly, "you are mistress here. Jem, old fellow, you have spoken."

"Delivered my charge, Jack, and failed. I retire broken from the field."

Glynne held out her hand to him, and when he took it she leaned towards him to kiss his lips.

About an hour later Mason the maid learned a secret which she afterwards confided to her intimates in the servants' hall.

Mason went up to Glynne's bedroom to carry there a lately-arrived packet containing a portion of her mistress's _trousseau_.

She had hardly entered the room when she noted that the door connecting it with Glynne's little study was ajar, and a sigh taught her that it was occupied.

"I'll take it in, and she'll open it at once," thought Mason, who was burning with curiosity to see the contents of the package; and, going lightly across to the door, she pressed it open, and then stood petrified at the scene before her.

For Glynne was kneeling before a chair with her face buried in her hands sobbing violently, while in piteous tones she breathed out the agony of her heart in the wild appeal,--

"Heaven help me and give me strength! It is more than I can bear."

Volume 3, Chapter VII.

A PROBLEM OF CONJUNCTION.

Want of exercise and incessant study had placed their effects on Alleyne. The greyness was showing in streaks in his hair, and the lines seemed deeper in his forehead, as Lucy came gently into the observatory where her brother was apparently intent upon some tremendous problem.

Lucy, too, looked thinner than of old. There was a careworn aspect in her face, and her eyes told tales of tears more often shed than is the custom with young ladies as a rule.

As she entered the observatory and closed the door, she stood gazing at her brother with her hands clasped, thinking of the money that had been expended upon his scientific pursuits, keeping them all exceedingly poor, and, for result, helping to make Alleyne a worn and old-looking man.

What a thing it seemed, she thought; how changed their home and all their simple life had become, and all through their proximity to Brackley.