“I could not close my eyes all the night, and I do so sadly need rest. I will go to my brother and ask him to make arrangements for at once changing my room.”
“But Master Bruce will be so much disappointed,” expostulated Susan. “He has spared no pains to have everything just as you would like it to be.”
“I cannot sleep here,” repeated Emmie, who was trembling with nervous excitement. “You will soon move my things—I care not whither—so that it be to the other side of the house, as far as possible from the bricked-up room.”
Emmie hastily quitted the apartment, and drawing back the tapestry curtain, passed on to the head of the staircase. The house appeared to her dreary, empty, and cold, as she glided down the broad oaken steps, almost afraid to look behind her. Emmie soon reached the wide hall, and, guided by the light of the lamp in the drawing-room, of which the door was open, she entered it, and found Bruce Trevor alone.
“I hope that you feel rested, Emmie,” said her brother, advancing to meet her. The clouded brow of Bruce still showed token of the angry altercation which had passed between him and Vibert.
“I cannot rest in that room, dear,” faltered Emmie, avoiding meeting her brother’s inquiring gaze.
“Not rest—why not?” asked Bruce in surprise.
Emmie coloured with shame as she stammered forth her reply. “I know that you will think it so silly—it—it is silly, I own, but—but I would rather be in any other part of the house than next door to the haunted chamber!”
“This is folly, Emmie, pure folly,” expostulated Bruce. “You know that a great part of the dwelling is at present uninhabitable, and cannot be used for months. There are but two upper rooms fitted up comfortably; the one is my father’s—he chose it himself; the other is given to you. Vibert and I can put up anywhere; our two little rooms, just beyond my father’s, have been left as I found them, save that the housemaid has been induced to clear a few cobwebs away. I could not possibly allow you, accustomed as you are to have comforts around you, to occupy one of those bare cells at the coldest side of the house.”
“I should prefer—oh, so greatly prefer one of those small rooms to my present one!” exclaimed Emmie. “Where I now am expected to sleep, that horrid tapestry curtain divides me from every other living being, and I am so close to the bricked-up room, that if so much as a mouse stirred in it, the sound would keep me awake. Dear Bruce, you who are so firm, and brave, and wise, you cannot tell what I feel. If you love me, let us exchange our rooms at once; you are not fearful and foolish like me.” Emmie was trembling; her hands were clasped, and tears rose into her eyes.