'No, Miss Maud,' she answered, rising and drawing near.
'She thinks we are going to France immediately, and to leave this place perhaps for ever.'
'Heaven be praised for that, if it be so, Miss!' said Mary, with more energy than was common with her, 'for there is no luck about it, and I don't expect to see you ever well or happy in it.'
'You must take your candle, Mary, and make out her room, up-stairs; I found it accidentally myself one evening.'
'But Wyat won't let us up-stairs.'
'Don't mind her, Mary; I tell you to go. You must try. I can't sleep till we hear.'
'What direction is her room in, Miss?' asked Mary.
'Somewhere in that direction, Mary,' I answered, pointing. 'I cannot describe the turns; but I think you will find it if you go along the great passage to your left, on getting to the top of the stairs, till you come to the cross-galleries, and then turn to your left; and when you have passed four or perhaps five doors, you must be very near it, and I am sure she will hear if you call.'
'But will she tell me—she is such a rum un, Miss?' suggested Mary.
'Tell her exactly what I have said to you, and when she learns that you already know as much as I do, she may—unless, indeed, she wishes to torture me. If she won't, perhaps at least you can persuade her to come to me for a moment. Try, dear Mary; we can but fail.'