Rusk good-night and walk down the gallery
to the stairs, so that I concluded he was wanted no more, and all must
therefore be well. So I laid myself down again, though with a throbbing at
my heart, and an ominous feeling of expectation, listening and fancying
footsteps.
I was going to sleep when I heard the bell ring again; and, in a few
minutes, Mrs. Rusk's energetic step passed along the gallery; and,
listening intently, I heard, or fancied, my father's voice and hers in
dialogue. All this was very unusual, and again I was, with a beating heart,
leaning with my elbow on my pillow.
Mrs. Rusk came along the gallery in a minute or so after, and stopping at
my door, began to open it gently. I was startled, and challenged my visitor
with--
'Who's there?'
'It's only Rusk, Miss. Dearie me! and are you awake still?'
'Is papa ill?'
'Ill! not a bit ill, thank God. Only there's a little black book as I took
for your prayer-book, and brought in here; ay, here it is, sure enough, and
he wants it. And then I must go down to the study, and look out this one,
"C, 15;" but I can't read the name, noways; and I was afraid to ask him
again; if you be so kind to read it, Miss--I suspeck my eyes is a-going.
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