"I've come to say good-night, aunt."
"Ah, Maggie dear, is that you?" The pale oval face turned towards her.
"You won't be very late, will you?"
"Hadn't I better have a key, not to bother Martha?"
"Oh, Martha won't have gone to bed."
Maggie felt as though her whole evening would be spoilt did she know that Martha was waiting for her at the end of it.
"Oh, but it will be such a pity—"
"Martha will let you in, dear. Come and kiss me; I hope that you'll enjoy yourself."
And then the strangest thing happened. Maggie bent down. She felt a tear upon her cheek and then the thin strong arms held her, for an instant, in an almost threatening embrace.
"Good-night, dear aunt," she said; but, outside the room, she had to stand for a moment in the dark passage to regain her control; her heart was beating with wild unreasoning terror. Although she had brushed her cheek with her hand the cold touch of the tears still lingered there.