Acting from this better state of mind, Fanny unlocked her door, and
was passing along one of the passages in the direction of her
mother's room, when she met Aunt Grace.

"Oh! child! child! what is the matter with you?" exclaimed the aunt,
catching hold of her, and looking intently into her pale face.
"Come, now, tell me all about it--that's a dear, good girl."

"Tell you about what, Aunt Grace?" said Fanny, with as much firmness
as she could assume, trying, as she spoke, to disengage herself from
the firm grasp with which she was held.

"About all this matter that troubles you. Why, dear me! you look
just as if you'd come out of a spell of sickness. What is it, dear?
Now do tell your aunty, who loves you just as well as if you were
her own child. Do, love."

And Aunt Grace tried to draw the head of Fanny close to her bosom.
But her niece struggled to be free, answering, as she did so--

"Don't question me now, Aunt Grace, please. Only let me go to
mother. I want to see her."

"She is not in her room," said Miss Markland.

"Are you certain?"

"Oh, yes. I have just come from there."