ld have taken it if he had stayed another day in the
house.

His going was a mystery to me. I only knew that Mrs. Estabrook said that
she had asked him to go and that he had gone. The front door had hardly
closed behind him that morning before she unlocked her room and called
to me to come to her. I shall never lose the picture of her face as I
saw it then. She was sitting in that big wing-chair which is covered
with the figured cretonne and her face was as white as a newly ironed
napkin. It was so white that it did not seem real, but more like the
face of some vision that comes and sits for a minute and fades away
before a little draft of air. Her hands were on the chair arms just
like the hands of those Egyptian kings, carved out of alabaster, that
you see in museums. She might have been one of those queens of great
empires in the old times. She might have heard the roar of battle and
seen the retreat of her army from the windows of the palace and had
plunged a thin little dagger into her breast so that she would not be
captured alive. It cut me to the heart to see how beautiful she was--and
how terrible!

"Margaret," she said to me, spacing off her words. "Margaret."

"Little girl!" I cried out, forgetting the passage of all the years. And
I fell on my knees beside her.

"Sh! Sh!" she said. "I need your help. It is a desperate matter. You
must be calm."

"And what shall I do?" I asked.

"This--as I tell you," she answered, her eyes fixed on mine. "Send every
one else out of the house--only before they go, I want everything taken
out of this room of mine--all the furniture, all the rugs, all the
pictures. I want the blinds drawn everywhere, the doors bolted. For
three weeks I want no person to come across the threshold. I want you to
stay that long indoors--in this house. Mr. Estabrook will not come back
during that time, and to all others I want you to say that he is away
and that I am away, too,--or ill,--or anything that will seem best to
you. I never want you to come near my locked door unless I call for
you."

"But, Mrs. Estabrook!" I cried, my lips all of a tremble.

"Wait," she said. There was a look in her eyes that seemed to go into me
like a knife. "Come to my door every morning. Bring a glass of milk.
Knock. If I do not answer, have the door broken down! That is all; do
you hear?"

"Mercy on us!" I cried. "Tell me what this means. Are you mad?"

She put her soft hand on my cheek for a second.