“But I do not wish it,—no, no,—not yet, not yet!” exclaimed Emmie, betraying terror at the idea of her brother complying with her request. The patience of Bruce was fairly exhausted.
“I wish that you would know your own mind,” he said, with an air of vexation. “Really, Emmie, you should try to overcome these ridiculous fears and fancies. Where is your spirit,—where is your faith?”
Emmie turned away her head with a shivering sigh.
“We must send you to London for change of scene,” observed Bruce; “a few weeks with Aunt Mary will drive all these unreasonable terrors out of your mind.”
“Oh, let us all go—at once—to-day!” exclaimed Emmie, clasping her hands. “Let us all leave this horrible place.”
“For my father or myself to leave Myst Court at present is simply impossible,” said Bruce, in that tone of quiet decision which, as Emmie well knew, expressed a resolution which it was useless for her to attempt to shake.
“Then I will not leave you,—no, no!” she murmured. “Let us all at least be together.”
“If we be in danger from any foe, corporeal or spiritual, your slender arm and more slender courage will scarcely avail much for our protection,” observed Bruce, with a smile. He had regained his good-humour, and sought to rally Emmie out of her fears by assuming a playful manner.
But the attempt was vain; Emmie only burst again into a fit of weeping, and hastily quitted the apartment, brushing past her father, who was just returning to the breakfast-room after his interview with his steward.
“I am extremely annoyed about Emmie,” said the affectionate parent, addressing himself to Bruce; “I cannot comprehend what has taken such a strange hold on her mind.”