But she could not sleep. She rose, went back to the room where the dead Moxy lay, and sent Sarah to get breakfast ready. Then came upon her an urgent desire to know the people who had come, like swallows, to tenant, without leave asked, the space overhead. She undid the screw, opened the door, and stole gently up the stair, steep, narrow and straight, which ran the height of the two rooms between two walls. A long way up she came to another door, and peeping through a chink in it, saw that it admitted to the small orchestra high in the end-wall of the great room. Probably then the stair and the room below had been an arrangement for the musicians. Going higher yet, till she all but reached the roof, the stair brought her to a door. She knocked. No sound of approaching foot followed, but after some little delay it was opened by a young woman, with her finger on her lip, and something of a scared look in her eye. She had expected to see the doctor, and started and trembled at sight of Hester. There was little light where she stood, but Hester could not help feeling as if she had not merely seen her somewhere before. She came out on the landing and shut the door behind her. "He is very ill," she said; "and he hears a strange voice even in his sleep. A strange voice is dreadful to him." Her voice was not strange, and the moment she spoke it seemed to light up her face: Hester, with a pang she could scarcely have accounted for, recognized Amy Amber. "Amy!" she said. "Oh, Miss Raymount!" cried Amy joyfully, "is it indeed you? Are you come at last? I thought I was never to see you any more!" "You bewilder me," said Hester. "How do you come to be here? I don't understand." "_He_ brought me here." "_Who_ brought you here?" "Why, miss!" exclaimed Amy, as if hearing the most unexpected of questions, "who should it be?" "I have not the slightest idea," returned Hester. But the same instant a feeling strangely mingled of alarm, discomfort, indignation, and relief crossed her mind. Through her whiteness Amy turned whiter still, and she turned a little away, like a person offended. "There is but one, miss!" she said coldly. "Who should it be but him?" "Speak his name," said Hester almost sternly. "This is no time for hide-and-seek. Tell me whom you mean." "Are you angry with me?" faltered Amy. "Oh, Miss Raymount, I don't think I deserve it!" "Speak out, child! Why should I be angry with you?" "Do you know what it is?--Oh, I hardly know what I am saying! He is dying! he is dying!" She sank on the floor, and covered her face with her hands. Hester stood a moment and looked at her weeping, her heart filled with sad dismay, mingled with a kind of wan hope. Then softly and quickly she opened the door of the room and went in. Amy started to her feet, but too late to prevent her, and followed trembling, afraid to speak, but relieved to find that Hester moved so noiselessly.