"Yes, sir." "Have you no home?" "I have neither home nor relatives. The place that seems more like a home to me than any other is Mademoiselle Barlieu's, at Nulle. I was there four years." "Did you never get any French novels there?" "Indeed no." "My sister told me she did." "I don't see how that could have been, sir, unless she read them when she was out. Miss Chandos visited a great deal." "Yes, to her cost." He drew in his lips when he spoke, like one in pain, and his blue eyes—they were so dark as to be purple in some lights—went out far away, as if looking into the past. "We were too closely superintended to admit of our reading any books, unless by permission; as to novels, the Miss Barlieus would have been in fits at the thought. And since I left them I have been too fully occupied to read for recreation. This is the first leisure time I have had for nearly as long as I can remember." "Indeed! It must seem strange to you." "So strange, sir, that I am not sure whether I like it or not." Mr. Chandos laughed. "Did you visit much, when you were at Nulle?" "No sir. I had not a friend in the town. Towards the last, Miss Annette would sometimes take me when she went out to spend the evening." "Will you allow me to direct your reading, Miss Hereford?" he returned, after a pause. "Oh, sir, if you would!" I answered eagerly. "For in truth that library seems to me like a wild sea, with its multitude of books." "Yes; and a young lady might get amidst shoals; for all the books are not equally worthy!" "Perhaps, sir, you will look out a few and give to me." "I will, with pleasure." "Thank you. Meanwhile, may I go on with this, as I have begun it?" He left the tree, took the book from my hand and looked at it. "'Othello;' yes, you may read that." As he returned the book to me and resumed his position against the tree, some one approached from the outer gate. I thought it was a visitor. He came strolling on in the very middle of the broad avenue, his arms underneath his coat-tails; and soon I perceived it was the gentleman I had seen at the newly-occupied house, giving his directions to the servant. But ah! as he neared us, remembrance, with its cold chill of terror, struck upon my heart. I knew him instantly. It was Mr. Edwin Barley. Mr. Edwin Barley, and not in the least altered. "Do you want anything, sir?" demanded Mr. Chandos. For the intruder was passing us without ceremony, and turning his head about from side to side as curiously and freely as he might have done on the public road. "I don't want anything," was the independent answer, and Mr. Edwin Barley stood and faced Mr. Chandos as he spoke it, looking at him keenly. "The open air is free to walk in, I believe." "Quite so—when you are without these boundaries. But these are private property." "I am aware that they are the grounds belonging to Chandos House; but I did not know a stranger might not be permitted to walk in them."