"No. Seeing nothing but the opening between the curtains at the foot of the bed, and the door beyond it; nothing more than is to be seen now." "Then, Selina, it was a dream after all?" "In one sense, yes. The world would call it so. To me it was something more. A minute afterwards the clock struck two, and I was as wide awake as I am now." The reaction came, and I burst into tears. "Selina! it was a dream; it could only have been a dream!" "I should no doubt think so, Anne, but for what you told me of your mamma's warning. But for hearing that, I might never have remembered that such a thing is said to follow the Keppe-Carews." What with remorse for having told her, though charged by my mother to do it, and what with my own fears, I could not speak for hysterical sobbing. "You stupid little sensitive thing!" exclaimed Selina, with a touch of her old lightness; "perhaps in a week's time I shall be well, and running about out of doors with you. Go you down to Charlotte Delves's parlour, and get your breakfast, and then come to me again. I want you to go on an errand for me but don't say so. Mind that, Anne." "No, no; I'll not say it, Selina." "Tell them to give you some honey." They brought the honey and set out other good things for me in Miss Delves's parlour, but I could not eat. Charlotte Delves was very kind. Both the doctors came up the avenue. I watched them into the house; I heard them come downstairs again. The physician from Nettleby went straight out: Mr. Lowe came to the parlour. "My dear," he said to me, "you are to go up to Mrs. Edwin Barley." "Is she much worse, sir?" I lingered to ask. "I can hardly say how she is," was his answer. "We must hope for the best." He stayed in the room himself, and shut the door while he talked to Miss Delves. The hall-clock struck ten as I passed under it, making me start. The hall was clear to-day, and the window and door stood a little open. Jemima told me that Philip King was in a sitting-room at the back, one that was rarely used. I ran quickly up to Selina's chamber. Mr. Edwin Barley was in it, to my dismay. He turned to leave it when I went in, and put his hand kindly enough upon my hair. "You look pale, little one; you should run out of doors for a while." His wife watched him from the room with her strangely altered eyes, and then beckoned to me. "Shut the door, and bolt it, Anne." And very glad I felt to do it. It was impossible to overcome my fear of Mr. Edwin Barley. "Do you think you could find your way to Hallam?" "I daresay I could, aunt." "Selina, call me Selina," she impatiently interposed. "Call it me to the last." To the last! "You remember the way you came from Nettleby, Anne? In going out at the gates by the lodge, Nettleby lies on your left hand, Hallam on your right. You understand?" "Oh, quite."