afternoon she came to the schoolroom and told Donal she had had the
terrible dream again.

"This time," she said, "I came out, in my dream, on the great stair,
and went up to my room, and into bed, before I waked. But I dare not
ask mistress Brookes whether she saw me--"

"You do not imagine you were out of the room?" said Donal.

"I cannot tell. I hope not. If I were to find I had been, it would
drive me out of my senses! I was thinking all day about the lost room:
I fancy it had something to do with that."

"We must find the room, and have done with it!" said Donal.

"Are you so sure we can?" she asked, her face brightening.

"If there be one, and you will help me, I think we can," he answered.

"I will help you."

"Then first we will try the shaft of the music-chimney. That it has
never smoked, at least since those wires were put there, makes it
something to question--though the draught across it might doubtless
have prevented it from being used. It may be the chimney to the very
room. But we will first try to find out whether it belongs to any room
we know. I will get a weight and a cord: the wires will be a plague,
but I think we can pass them. Then we shall see how far the weight goes
down, and shall know on what floor it is arrested. That will be
something gained: the plane of inquiry will be determined. Only there
may be a turn in the chimney, preventing the weight from going to the
bottom."

"When shall we set about it?" said Arctura, almost eagerly.

"At once," replied Donal.

She went to get a shawl.

Donal went to the gardener's tool-house, and found a suitable cord.
There was a seven-pound weight, but that would not pass the wires! He
remembered an old eight-day clock on a back stair, which was never
going. He got out its heavier weight, and carried it, with the cord and
the ladder, to his own stair--at the foot of which was lady
Arctura--waiting for him.

There was that in being thus associated with the lovely lady; in
knowing that peace had began to visit her through him, that she trusted
him implicitly, looking to him for help and even protection; in knowing
that nothing but wrong to her could be looked for from uncle or cousin,
and that he held what might be a means of protecting her, should undue
influence be brought to bear upon her--there was that in all this, I
say, that stirred to its depth the devotion of Donal's nature. With the
help of God he would foil her enemies, and leave h