Mr Haredale paused for a moment, and looked at her as if surprised by the energy of her manner.
Observing, however, that she took no heed of him, but glanced up, shuddering, at the old walls with which such horrors were connected in her mind, he led her by a private stair into his library, where Emma was seated in a window, reading.
The young lady, seeing who approached, hastily rose and laid aside her book, and with many kind words, and not without tears, gave her a warm and earnest welcome.

But the widow shrunk from her embrace as though she feared her, and sunk down trembling on a chair.
'It is the return to this place after so long an absence,' said Emma gently.

'Pray ring, dear uncle--or stay--Barnaby will run himself and ask for wine--' 'Not for the world,' she cried.

'It would have another taste--I could not touch it.

I want but a minute's rest.