"No admittance! Go away."
A note was pushed in under the door. Mrs. Halifax picked it up—opened it, read it mechanically, and sat down again; taking no notice, even when Guy, catching sight of the hand-writing, eagerly seized the paper.
It was merely a line, stating Miss Silver's wish to leave Beechwood immediately; signed, with her full name—her right name—"Louise Eugenie D'Argent."
A postscript added: "Your silence I shall take as permission to depart; and shall be gone early to-morrow."
"To-morrow! Gone to-morrow! And she does not even know that—that I love her. Mother, you have ruined my happiness. I will never forgive you—never!"
Never forgive his mother! His mother, who had borne him, nursed him, reared him; who had loved him with that love—like none other in the world—the love of a woman for her firstborn son, all these twenty-one years!
It was hard. I think the most passionate lover, in reasonable moments, would allow that it was hard. No marvel that even her husband's clasp could not remove the look of heart-broken, speechless suffering which settled stonily down in Ursula's face, as she watched her boy—storming about, furious with uncontrollable passion and pain.
At last, mother-like, she forgot the passion in pity of the pain.
"He is not strong yet; he will do himself harm. Let me go to him! John, let me!" Her husband released her.
Faintly, with a weak, uncertain walk, she went up to Guy and touched his arm.