When it had been fed and hushed away to sleep, she went in to see her mother, attracted by some unusual noise in her room.
She found Mrs.Robson awake, and restless, and ailing; dwelling much on what Philip had said in his anger against Sylvia.

It was really necessary for her daughter to remain with her; so Sylvia stole out, and went quickly down-stairs to Philip--now sitting tired and worn out, and eating his supper with little or no appetite--and told him she meant to pass the night with her mother.
His answer of acquiescence was so short and careless, or so it seemed to her, that she did not tell him any more of what she had done or seen that evening, or even dwell upon any details of her mother's indisposition.
As soon as she had left the room, Philip set down his half-finished basin of bread and milk, and sate long, his face hidden in his folded arms.

The wick of the candle grew long and black, and fell, and sputtered, and guttered; he sate on, unheeding either it or the pale gray fire that was dying out--dead at last..