"I suppose my father will come with him? It is strange he does not mention him. Nor has my father written for several days," said Elsie.
"Oh! Hugh will explain everything when he comes," replied Lady Gethin; who immediately after declared she had a sick headache, and retired to bed, to avoid the distressing sight of Elsie's unconscious content.
Lady Gethin contrived to impress Elsie with the idea that Glynn would not arrive till late in the evening, and so managed to secure a short interview with him before he went in to break his sad news to the orphan.
He looked ill and worn.
"Oh, Hugh! what an awful business," exclaimed Lady Gethin.
"A profound tragedy," he returned. "To you I may venture to confess my belief that Lambert first shot Deering and then blew his own brains out. He couldn't have been recognized, poor fellow! His head was so shattered, and the curious thing is, he had on different clothes from any I had ever seen him in. I suspect he bought them somewhere between Earlshall and London. It was the day after Deering's murder Lambert destroyed himself. I have been expecting every day to find that he has been identified in some way with the artist who spent a couple of days sketching at Denham. Of course the watch and a ring, and the man's figure generally, were enough for me. I knew who he was fast enough. I attended the examination, and gave my evidence frankly. Nothing was said about Deering. Now let me go to Elsie! I both long and dread to see her."
Lady Gethin led him up-stairs to their private sitting-room, and said, "Elsie dear, here is Hugh sooner than we expected him," and discreetly closed the door.
Glynn paused just within it, and gave himself one moment of delighted contemplation, as Elsie sprang forward to greet him. She wore a dress of soft grey, and a deep red rose, with its green leaves, at her throat. The evening sun lit up the golden sheen of her hair; she had color in her cheek; the light of joy in her eyes; and he had come to darken all.
"Oh! you have come at last!" she cried, forgetting for one brief moment even her father.
"My Elsie, my love, my life!" he exclaimed, clasping her closely to him, while his heart throbbed with sympathy and sorrow. At the sound of his voice she drew back and looked intently in his face. "Ah! you have brought bad news. My father—he is ill?—he is dead?" A short, breathless pause between each question.