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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"


"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.


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