"Will you say that I am anxious to see her, if she feels well enough to receive me?"
Mr. Rook looked at Mrs. Ellmother. "Are there two of you wanting to go upstairs?" he inquired.
"This is my old friend and servant," Emily answered. "She will wait for me down here."
"She can wait in the parlor; the good people of this house are well known to me." He pointed to the parlor door--and then led the way to the first floor. Emily followed him. Mirabel, as obstinate as ever, followed Emily.
Mr. Rook opened a door at the end of the landing; and, turning round to speak to Emily, noticed Mirabel standing behind her. Without making any remarks, the old man pointed significantly down the stairs. His resolution was evidently immovable. Mirabel appealed to Emily to help him.
"She will see me, if _you_ ask her," he said, "Let me wait here?"
The sound of his voice was instantly followed by a cry from the bed-chamber--a cry of terror.
Mr. Rook hurried into the room, and closed the door. In less than a minute, he opened it again, with doubt and horror plainly visible in his face. He stepped up to Mirabel--eyed him with the closest scrutiny--and drew back again with a look of relief.