How it all Came Round by L.T. Meade

Mr. Home and Mr. Harman went away together, and Charlotte was left alone in the study. By the profound stillness which now reigned in the house she guessed that every one had gone to bed. The servant who had admitted them at so late an hour had looked sleepy as he had done so. Doubtless Mr. Harman had desired him not to wait longer. Charlotte felt there was no use in ringing a bell. She scarcely knew her way about this great house. Nevertheless she must find Charlotte; she could not wait until the morning to throw her arms round her neck. She took one of the candles from the mantelpiece and began her tour through the silent house. She felt strangely timid as she commenced this midnight pilgrimage. The softly-carpeted stairs echoed back no footfall; she passed door after door. At last she recognized Charlotte's own private sitting-room, she had been there two or three times, but had never seen the room where her friend slept. A corridor, however, ran directly from this sitting-room, and Charlotte saw a closed door at the further end. "That must be the room," she said to herself, and she went straight towards it. The door was closed, but Charlotte heard a faint sound within. Instantly on hearing it she knocked lightly, but distinctly. There was a quick sound of hurried and surprised feet, and Charlotte Harman opened the door. Her eyes were heavy and red, as though she had been weeping. Her face was pale. She had not begun to undress.

"Charlotte; Charlotte Home! " she exclaimed. "Oh, what is wrong? My father!"