“Oh, darling, yes,” she gasped.
“Not here—you mustn’t stay here—run down—she’s mad—she’s a mad woman—not here a moment.”
Half stunned and dreamy with horror, Alice glided down the stairs, passing honest Tom who was stumbling up, half awake, but quite dressed excepting his coat.
“Run, Tom, help your master, for God’s sake,—there’s something dreadful,” she said as she passed him with her trembling hands raised.
“Where, ma’am, may’t be?” said Tom, pausing with a coolness that was dreadful, she thought.
“There, there, in his room, my room; go, for heaven’s sake!”
Up ran Tom, making a glorious clatter with his hob-nails, and down ran Alice, and just at the foot of the stair she met Mildred Tarnley’s tall slim figure. The old woman drew to the banister, and stood still, looking darkly and shrewdly at her.
“Oh! good Mildred—oh, Mrs. Tarnley, for God’s sake don’t leave me.”
“And what’s the row, ma’am, what is it?” asked Mrs. Tarnley, with her lean arm supporting the poor trembling young lady who clung to her.
“Oh, Mrs. Tarnley, take me with you—take me out—I can’t stay in the house; take me away—into the woods—anywhere out of the house.”