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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

I wonder what he will do!"
Cautiously listening to be sure the earl was not there, he ran to
the oak door, locked it, and brought away the key. Then they went to
the room Arctura had last occupied.
The door was ajar; there was a light in the room. They went softly,
and peeped in. The earl was there, turning over the contents of her
writing-desk.
"He will find nothing," she whispered with a smile.
Donal led her away.
"We will go to your old room," he said. "The whole recess is built
up with stone and lime: he cannot come near you that way!"
She made no objection. Donal secured the doors, lighted a fire, and
went to look for food. They had agreed upon a certain knock, without
which she was to open to none.
While she was yet changing the garments in which she had lain on the
terrible bed, she heard the earl go by, and the door of his room
close. Apparently he had concluded to let her pass the night without
another visit: he had himself had a bad fright, and had probably not
got over it. A little longer and she heard Donal's gentle signal at
the door of the sitting-room. He had brought some biscuits and a
little wine in the bottom of a decanter from the housekeeper's room:
there was literally nothing in the larder, he said.
They sat down and ate the biscuits. Donal told his adventures. They
agreed that she must write to the factor to come home at once, and
bring his sister.


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