Volume Three—Chapter Sixteen.
Celestial Matters.
Sir John nodded and went straight back to Brackley to find Glynne dressed and impatiently pacing the drawing-room, pale even to ghastliness, and with eyes dilated and looking large and wild.
“How long you have been!” she panted, catching his hand. “Tell me quickly—how is he? Tell me the worst.”
“The worst is that he is very bad. It is a serious seizure, my dear, but the doctors give hope.”
“Father, this long waiting has been more than I could bear,” she cried hysterically. “I felt as if I should go mad. Now take me there—at once.”
“Take you—to The Firs?”
“Yes; now. The carriage is ready. I told them to have it waiting.”
“But, Glynne—my darling, is it—is it quite right that you should go? Well, perhaps as Lucy’s friend.”
“I am not going as Lucy’s friend, father,” cried Glynne; “this is no time for paltry subterfuge. I am going to him who is stricken down. I must go; I cannot stay away.”