“Then I will go at once,” said Hugh, thinking it better to meet the gradual approach of the phantom-hour in the room itself, than to walk there through the desolate house, and enter the room just as the fear would be gathering thickest within it. Besides, he was afraid that his courage might have broken down a little by that time, and that he would not be able to conceal entirely the anticipative dread, whose inroad he had reason to apprehend.
“I have one good cup of tea yet, Mr. Sutherland,” said Euphra. “Will you not strengthen your nerves with that, before we lead you to the tomb?”
“Then she will go with me,” thought Hugh. “I will, thank you, Miss Cameron.”
He approached the table at which she stood pouring out the cup of tea. She said, low and hurriedly, without raising her head:
“Don’t go, dear Hugh. You don’t know what may happen.”
“I will go, Euphra. Not even you shall prevent me.”
“I will pay the wager for you—lend you the money.”
“Euphra!”—The tone implied many things.
Mr. Arnold approached. Other conversation followed. As half-past ten chimed from the clock on the chimney-piece, Hugh rose to go.
“I will just get a book from my room,” he said; “and then perhaps Herr von Funkelstein will be kind enough to see me make a beginning at least.”