“What do you want?” said Mr Crossland, angrily, as he caught sight of me. “Oh, I beg pardon, Miss Caroline. Your poor sister is suffering so much to-day. I have been trying to divert her a little, but her pain is so great. How very good of you to come! Was no one here to show you anywhere, that you had to come by yourself?”
The bowed head had been lifted up, and the face that met my eyes was one of the extremest misery. She held out her arms to me with a low, sad, wailing cry—
“O Cary, Cary, save me! Cannot you save me?”
I walked past that black-robed wretch, and took poor Hatty in my arms, drawing her head to lie on my bosom.
“Yes, my dear, you shall be saved,” I said,—I hope, God said through me. “Mr Crossland, will you have the goodness to leave my sister to me?”
If looks had power to kill, I think I should never have spoken again in this world. Mr Crossland turned on his heel, and walked out of the room without another word. The moment he was gone, I made a rush at the door, drew out the key (which was on the outside), locked it, and put the key on the table. Then I went back to Hatty.
“My poor darling, what have they done to you?”
Somehow, I felt as if I were older than she that day.
But she could not tell me at first. “O Cary, Cary!” seemed to be all that she could say. I rang the bell, and when somebody tried the door, I asked the unknown helper to send Miss Amelia Bracewell.
“I beg your pardon, Madam, I dare not,” answered a girl’s voice. “Nobody is allowed to enter this chamber but my mistress and Fa— and my master.”