"Perhaps he will return," pursued the clergyman, hopefully. "Influences might be brought to bear. We may be able to reach him?" And again he looked at Winthrop inquiringly.
But Winthrop had now forgotten his presence, at this very moment he was leaving the room; he was determined to see Margaret and speak to her, if but for a second. He found Rose, and sent her with a message; he himself followed the old woman up the stairs, and stood waiting in the upper hall as she knocked at Margaret's closed door.
But the door did not open; in answer to Rose's message delivered shrilly outside the door, Margaret replied from within, "I can see no one at present."
Rose came back. "She can't see nobody nohow jess dis minute, marse," she answered, in an apologetic tone. Then, imaginatively, "Spec she's tired."
"Go back and tell her that I'm waiting here—in the hall, and that I will keep her but a moment. There is something important I must say."
Rose returned to the door. But the answer was the same. "She done got mighty tired, marse, sho," said the old servant, again trying to clothe the refusal in polite terms, though unable to think of a new apology.
"Her door is locked, I suppose?" Winthrop asked. Then he felt that this was going too far; he turned and went down the stairs, but with a momentary revival in his breast all the same of the old despotic feeling, the masculine feeling, that a woman should not be allowed to dictate to a man what he should say or not say, do or not do; in refusing to see him even for one moment, Margaret was dictating.
He walked down the lower hall, and then back again. Happening to glance up, he saw that old Rose was still standing at the top of the stairs; she dropped one of her straight courtesies as he looked up—a quick ducking down of her narrow skirt; she was much disturbed by the direct refusal which she had had to give him.
"I can't stay here, if they are going to watch me," he thought, impatiently. He turned and re-entered the sitting-room.
Mr. Moore was putting more wood on the fire. His mind was full of Margaret and her troubles; but the fire certainly needed replenishing, it would do no one any good to come back to a cold room, Mrs. Harold least of all; Winthrop therefore found him engaged with the coals.