"It's coming, granny," called out the shrill voice of the girl sitting before the fire, quickening her motions.
"Here's the squire come to see you, dame, and he wishes you a happy Christmas," said Dr. Tatham, loudly.
"What! the squire? Alive yet? Ah, well-a-day! well-a-day!" said she, in a feeble, mournful tone, slowly rubbing together her long, skinny, wrinkled hands, on the backs of which the veins stood out like knotted whipcord. She repeated the last words several times, in a truly doleful tone, gently shaking her head.
"Granny's been very sad, sir, to-day, and cried two or three times," said the little girl, stirring about the hot broth.
"Poor squire! doth he not look sad?" inquired the old woman.
"Why should I, dame? What have I to fear?" said Mr. Aubrey, somewhat quickly.
"Merry in the Hall! all, merry! merry! But no one has heard it except old blind Bess. Where's the squire?" she added, suddenly turning full towards the spot where they were standing—and her face seemed whitened with emotion. Her staring eyes were settled on Mr. Aubrey's face, as if she saw him distinctly, and were reading his very soul.
"Here I am, dame," said he, with a great deal of curiosity, to say the least of it.
"Give me your hand, Squire," said she, stretching out her left arm, and working about her talon-like fingers, as if in eagerness to grasp Mr. Aubrey's hand, which he gave her.
"Never fear! never, never! Happy in the Hall! I see all! How long"——