"You have a right to," Towsey answered; "but after she came from London she said she would turn me from the door if I ever opened it to you." "I must see my mother!" Margaret said, and a sob came to her throat. "She has no right to keep me from her." "That's true enough, Miss Margaret. But she's that bitter I believe she'd shut the door on you if your mother was lying dead." "I would insist," said Margaret, in despair; "but it would be so terrible to have a quarrel now, and it might kill her. She's my mother, Towsey," Margaret added, in a heart-broken whisper. "And Hannah may say what she pleases, you shall enter," whispered Towsey with determination, and opened the door wide. Margaret went swiftly past her into the kitchen, and Towsey shut the door softly and followed her. "You'll be tired with the journey," she said, tenderly; "let me get you something to eat and drink." "I don't want anything to eat or drink, Towsey, dear; I want to creep up and be near mother even if I can't see her. Oh, I wonder if Hannah would prevent my seeing her?" "Ay, that she would," said Towsey, with conviction. "You'd better sit a bit," and she led Margaret to a chair very carefully, so that the sound of their footsteps should not be heard above, and still they spoke in whispers. "Is there no hope?" Margaret asked, chokingly. Towsey shook her head. "Hannah won't believe she's going, but I can see it. I have seen plenty go, and know the signs. The pain's gone--it's never been very bad--but it's all gone now. She's just waiting for death, though, somehow, I don't think it will come till she's seen you." "But doesn't Hannah know she's dying?" Towsey shook her head. "She doesn't see it, and you can never make Hannah believe anything she doesn't think inside her." "Is Hannah likely to come down?" "Likely she'll be down presently for the arrow-root. Look you, Miss Margaret, I'll make an excuse and go up for something. You take off your shoes and walk softly by me, keeping well to the side of the staircase. There's only the little lamp in the room, and there's no light outside; she'll not see, even if she looks out." "But what shall I do when I get up?" Margaret asked, too dazed to think for herself. She took off her hat as she spoke and put it on the table. Towsey lifted it gently and hid it in the settle where she kept her own things. "As I go into the room you can slip into the cupboard outside the door--you'll find it open--and hide among the things hanging up. I'll try and get Hannah down and keep her to eat a bit of supper; then, perhaps, you could steal in and look at her for a moment without any one knowing you are there." "But if it did her harm--if it excited her?" "It won't," said Towsey, firmly; "it'll make her happy before she goes. It would be terrible if she died without seeing you or her husband, when she's waiting and longing for you both that badly she can scarce breathe." "Let us go at once," whispered Margaret.