The softened statement that her father had been stricken down by a natural malady did not for a moment deceive her.

She closed her eyes; the pillows which supported her were scarcely whiter than her face.

But she was soon able to speak with perfect self-control.
'Was he brought home wrapped in something ?' she asked.

'With his face covered ?' 'He was, Emily.' 'How and where did I see him?
For I know I did see him.' 'Your mother has told me that you rose from your bed, and went to the room below.

She did not realise that you were unconscious; she believed that you knew of this.' This was her dread vision.