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 Three—Chapter Seven.
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.