She followed him with her eyes as he retreated, and watched him from the room: then turned her face to the wall. “It is over. Only God now.”
Mr. Carlyle took an instant’s counsel with himself, stopping at the head of the stairs to do it. Joyce, in obedience to a sign from him, had already gone into the sick-chamber: his sister was standing at the door.
“Cornelia.”
She followed him down to the dining-room.
“You will remain here to-night? With her?”
“Do you suppose I shouldn’t?” crossly responded Miss Corny; “where are you off to now?”
“To the telegraph office, at present. To send for Lord Mount Severn.”
“What good can he do?”
“None. But I shall send for him.”
“Can’t one of the servants go just as well as you? You have not finished your dinner; hardly begun it.”