itying voice;
'but you must give him time. He cannot speak to you now--he can speak to
no one; he is simply stunned. Give me your promise that you will not see
him to-night.'

'Impossible! I will make no such promise. He is my son, not yours. If he
cannot speak to me, I can at least take his hand and tell him that I am
sorry.'

'He will not be able to hear you. As far as I can tell, he has taken
nothing in; the news has simply crushed him. If you will give him time,
he will pull himself together; but I would not answer for the
consequences if you persist in seeing him to-night. He is not himself.
There would be words said that ought never to be uttered. Mrs. Blake, do
be persuaded. I am speaking for your sake as well as his.'

'You are always so hard,' she moaned.

But from her manner he thought she would not disobey him; he had managed
to frighten her.

'You will be wise if you take my advice,' he returned, moving away from
the door. 'I am going to him now, but I shall not stay; it is, above all
things, necessary that he should be alone.'

'Will you speak to him for me? Will you tell him that my heart is nearly
broken with that cold, reproachful look of his? Will you at least say
this, Captain Burnett?'

'I think it would be better not to mention your name to him to-night.'

Then she threw herself back on the couch in a hysterical outburst.

Michael thought it useless to stay with her. He found Biddy outside as
usual, and sent her in to do her best for her mistress; and then he went
up to Cyril's room. He found him sitting on the edge of his bed; the
window was wide open, and the rain was driving in, and had already
wetted the carpet; a candle someone had lighted was guttering in the
draught. Michael closed the window, and then he looked at the fireplace.
There was plenty of fuel at hand. Cyril often worked in his own room,
and now and then his mother's care had provided him with a fire. The
room felt cold and damp. There were matches at hand, and Michael had no
scruple in lighting a fire now; the crackle of wood seemed to rouse
Cyril.

'Why do you do that? there is no need,' he said irritably.

'Pardon me, there is every need. Do you know your coat is wet, Blake?
You must change it at once.'

But Cyril only gave an impatient shrug.

'Will you let me see you change it before I go?' he persisted, and he
actually had his way, perhaps because Cyril was anxious to get rid of
him. 'Now I am going; I only wa