"Have the goodness to tell Mr. Chandos that I am not going out yet." Mrs. Chandos, who had not noticed me before, turned in surprise, and looked at me; but Madame de Mellissie did not, I suppose, deem me worth an introduction. I went downstairs to deliver her message. Mr. Chandos was waiting in the oak-parlour, talking to his mother. "Madame de Mellissie has desired me to say that she will not go out yet, sir." "I did not expect she would," he answered, with a slight laugh, "for she is changeable as the wind. Tell her so from me, will you, Miss Hereford?" He bent his dark blue eyes upon me with a half-saucy glance, as if intimating that he meant what he said. "Very well, sir." I returned to my own room, took off my things, and sat down to think. Who was Mrs. Chandos? CHAPTER XII. OUT OF DOORS AT CHANDOS. That day was a dull one. I did not feel at home, and could not make myself feel so. Madame de Mellissie went out in the carriage with Lady Chandos, and I was alone. I strolled out a little in the afternoon, just to see what the place outside was like. The gates of egress were on the left, the gravel drive leading straight to them; but there were so many paths and walks, and trees and rocks, and banks and flower-beds on either side, that you might almost lose yourself, and quite lose sight of the broad drive. The most curious-looking feature about Chandos was the little upper turret: but for the narrow Gothic window in it, it might have been taken for a pigeon-house. I came back, and crossed to the Pine Walk; that again was intersected by paths, conducting it was hard to say whither. The trees were towering aloft, the lower shrubs were high and thick. In three minutes after quitting the house, not a vestige even of its chimneys was to be seen; and I retraced my steps, not caring to lose myself. But for the beautiful order in which everything was kept, the place might have been called a wilderness. I noticed one thing: that the front windows in each of the wings had their inside shutters closed; strong oak shutters: both the lower and the upper rooms were shut in from the light of day. I never saw them opened while I stayed at Chandos. The lower windows, looking to the sides of the house, were also kept dark; but the rooms above and those looking to the back were open. A narrow gravel path, shut in by laurels, led round the wings to the back of the house. The servants used that by the east wing, the one inhabited by Mrs. Chandos. No one used the other, except Lady Chandos. For a servant or any one else to be seen there would have been high treason, involving probably dismissal. It was an understood law of the house, and never rebelled against. The shrubs on Lady Chandos's side had grown thick as a very grove, affording just space for one person to pass to the small door that gave entrance to the wing. I knew nothing of the prohibition in strolling there that day. On learning it afterwards, I felt thankful not to have been seen.