"You do not know—you do not know all," he said.
Just at that moment they heard the voice of Lady Estelle in the hall. He started up, everything forgotten except the wife he loved so dearly, the mother whose child lay dead.
"Do one thing for me, Mattie," he gasped. "Go to her—on some pretext or other—take her to her own room; she must not see, she must not know. Keep her there; I must tell Earle."
Mattie hastened to obey him. Lady Estelle was speaking to one of the servants in the hall.
"Mattie," she said, "I do not understand this delay. If some one does not hurry matters a little, we shall have no wedding to-day."
Then the girl's anxious face and pale lips struck her.
"Surely," she said, "there is nothing wrong! Has Doris changed her mind?"
"No, dear Lady Linleigh: she is not quite well; and probably there will be no wedding to-day. I want you to come with me to your own room—I want to talk to you."
"I shall go to Doris," said the countess: "if she is not well, my place is with her."
But Mattie caught her hands, and the countess, always yielding, went with her.