"
This message was delivered, and had the desired effect. Mat was
admitted into the drawing-room immediately.
The chairs occupied by the members of the Deputation had not been moved
away--the handsome silver inkstand was on the table--the Address,
beautifully written on the fairest white paper, lay by it. Mr. Thorpe
stood before the fireplace, and bending over towards the table,
mechanically examined, for the second time, the signatures attached to
the Address, while his strange visitor was being ushered up stairs.
Mat's arrival had interrupted him just at the moment when he was going
to Mrs. Thorpe's room, to describe to her the Presentation ceremony
which she had not been well enough to attend. He had stopped
immediately, and the faint smile that was on his face had vanished from
it, when the news of his son's illness reached him through the servant.
But the hectic flush of triumph and pleasure which his interview with
the Deputation had called into his cheeks, still colored them as
brightly as ever, when Matthew Grice entered the room.
"You have come, sir," Mr. Thorpe began, "to tell me--"
He hesitated, stammered out another word or two, then stopped.
Something in the expression of the dark and strange face that he saw
lowering at him under the black velvet skull-cap, suspended the words
on his lips.
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