'
'But will she tell me--she _is_ such a rum un, Miss?' suggested Mary.
'Tell her exactly what I have said to you, and when she learns that you
already know as much as I do, she may--unless, indeed, she wishes to
torture me. If she won't, perhaps at least you can persuade her to come to
me for a moment. Try, dear Mary; we can but fail.'
'Will you be very lonely, Miss, while I am away?' asked Mary, uneasily, as
she lighted her candle.
'I can't help it, Mary. Go. I think if I heard we were going, I could
almost get up and dance and sing. I can't bear this dreadful uncertainty
any longer.'
'If old Wyat is outside, I'll come back and wait here a bit, till she's out
o' the way,' said Mary; 'and, anyhow, I'll make all the haste I can. The
drops and the sal-volatile is here, Miss, by your hand.'
And with an anxious look at me, she made her exit, softly, and did not
immediately return, by which I concluded that she had found the way clear,
and had gained the upper story without interruption.
This little anxiety ended, its subsidence was followed by a sense of
loneliness, and with it, of vague insecurity, which increased at last to
such a pitch, that I wondered at my own madness in sending my companion
away; and at last my terrors so grew, that I drew back into the farthest
corner of the bed, with my shoulders to the wall, and my bed-clothes
huddled about me, with only a point open to peep at.
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