Alda was the first to make any sort of move, impelled by the fear of her husband's impatience, and recollecting the guests. Sir Robert and his daughter-in-law were stiff and uncomfortable, wondering that things should have been allowed to go so far, and wishing themselves away. Alda looked about for her sisters, but could only find Robina, who assisted in proposing that the strangers should come and eat. Sir Robert, on this, uttered polite condolences, begging that his carriage might be sent for, but consenting to come into the dining-room.

Where were the bridal pair? Poor young things, they were found in one of the hall window seats, where they could catch sounds from the sick room, all crushed up together, his arms round her, and her head, with wreath and veil pushed aside, on his shoulder, as if she were passively submitting to such support as he strove to afford.

'My dear children,' began Sir Robert, as they stood up startled, 'it is indeed a mournful turn that this festive occasion has taken, but I am relieved to hear that the patient is somewhat relieved, and you will, as Lady Vanderkist suggests, assume your places at the table. Or perhaps our bride will first change her dress, as it may be better to hasten your departure.'

'I can't go away.'

But Sir Robert with his conventionalities, Mrs. Audley with her proprieties, nay the Captain with his morbid horror of everything painful, all came round, declaring that Charlie was bound to take his bride away; they need not go far; they might wait where their rooms were engaged, but go they must; and appeals were made to both Vanderkists on the necessity.

There however quiet, gentle Stella became wild, nay almost frantic. She broke away from her husband, whose 'You shall do exactly as you please' was drowned in the authoritative commands of his grandfather. 'No! No!' she cried,' I will not go! No one can take me, while my brother is so ill,' and she burst into an irrepressible passion of weeping, leaning against the tall post of balusters, and pushing Charlie away when he would have taken her hand. 'No, no, don't, I don't want any one. I won't go away from my brother,' and she flung her arm round the post as if she fancied she would be forcibly dragged away, and not so much as hearing, 'This is very amiable feeling,' from Sir Robert, or if she did, it distracted her the more, while Charlie stood in utter perplexity, for it was of no use to protest that he did not mean to take her away, when it only on the one side made his grandfather order him the more decidedly, and Stella cling the more desperately whenever he tried to approach, scarcely restraining her screams as her agitation became uncontrollable. 'No, no, let me alone, trouble only comes with me—I want no one but my brother!'

A step on the stairs startled her into breathless silence. It was Clement. 'Hush, Stella,' he said, sternly and shortly. 'Felix wants you and Charlie.'

'He heard,' some one said reproachfully.

'Yes. Don't detain her,' he added, as Alda would have modified her dishevelment by removing the wreath and veil. 'I don't know how long this interval may last.'

Stella, instantly controlled by the home voice, and ashamed and grieved at having disturbed her brother, made no resistance to Charlie's taking her trembling hand as Clement preceded them to the room, all silent now save for the constrained breathing which showed the interval to be far from painless. The ashy face of suppressed suffering recalled to Stella her watch by that same spot during the suspense about Theodore, and she dropped on her knees, trying to hide her tears and stifle her sobs in the bed-clothes. Felix after laying his hand on the poor little head held it out to Charlie, and evidently commanding his voice with great difficulty said, 'I did not think this would have come till you had her safe away, Charlie.'