“Pshaw!  Mary darling, what is it but a dream!  I have had a thousand more startling; it is only that you are so nervous just now.”

“But that is not all—­nothing; what followed is so dreadful; for either there is something very horrible going on at Mardykes, or else I am losing my reason,” said Lady Haworth in increasing agitation.  “I wakened instantly in great alarm, but I suppose no more than I have felt a hundred times on awakening from a frightful dream.  I sat up in my bed; I was thinking of ringing for Winnefred, my heart was beating so, but feeling better soon I changed my mind.  All this time I heard a faint sound of a voice, as if coming through a thick wall.  It came from the wall at the left side of my bed, and I fancied was that of some woman lamenting in a room separated from me by that thick partition.  I could only perceive that it was a sound of crying mingled with ejaculations of misery, or fear, or entreaty.  I listened with a painful curiosity, wondering who it could be, and what could have happened in the neighbouring rooms of the house; and as I looked and listened, I could distinguish my own name, but at first nothing more.  That, of course, might have been an accident; and I knew there were many Marys in the world besides myself.  But it made me more curious; and a strange thing struck me, for I was now looking at that very wall through which the sounds were coming.  I saw that there was a window in it.  Thinking that the rest of the wall might nevertheless be covered by another room, I drew the curtain of it and looked out.  But there is no such thing.  It is the outer wall the entire way along.  And it is equally impossible of the other wall, for it is to the front of the house, and has two windows in it; and the wall that the head of my bed stands against has the gallery outside it all the way; for I remarked that as I came to you.”

“Tut, tut, Mary darling, nothing on earth is so deceptive as sound; this and fancy account for everything.”

“But hear me out; I have not told you all.  I began to hear the voice more clearly, and at last quite distinctly.  It was Janet’s, and she was conjuring you by name, as well as me, to come to her to Mardykes, without delay, in her extremity; yes, you, just as vehemently as me.  It was Janet’s voice.  It still seemed separated by the wall, but I heard every syllable now; and I never heard voice or words of such anguish.  She was imploring of us to come on, without a moment’s delay, to Mardykes; and crying that, if we were not with her, she should go mad.”

“Well, darling,” said Lady Walsingham, “you see I’m included in this invitation as well as you, and should hate to disappoint Janet just as much; and I do assure you, in the morning you will laugh over this fancy with me; or rather, she will laugh over it with us, when we get to Mardykes.  What you do want is rest, and a little sal-volatile.”