"Going away! Do you speak of Mrs. Freeman?" "Yes, Miss. She is going by her own choice. She has a sister who lives about thirteen miles from this, and she wishes to go at once to her house. My lady urged her to wait, at any rate until to-morrow, but Mrs. Freeman said she would rather go, especially as she can be of no further use at present to Mrs. Chandos. They have a suspicion that she fears another attack, and thinks she had better get to her sister's without delay. So it's all settled, and Hill is to accompany her." Harriet departed, leaving my door on the latch. I sat, reading and listening by turns, and presently there sounded two more encountering voices outside. Those of Lady Chandos and Hill, her attendant. "My lady," said the latter, in one of those loud whispers which penetrate the ear worse than open speaking, "is it right that I should go to-night? I could not allude to it before Mrs. Chandos." "Why should it not be right, Hill?" "It is the full of the moon, my lady." Lady Chandos paused before replying, possibly in reflection. "There is no help for it, Hill," she said, at last. "Mrs. Freeman is too ill to be trusted to the care of any one but you." The carriage was brought to the lower door in the wing, unbarred and unbolted for the occasion, and Mrs. Freeman was taken down the enclosed stairs to it, by Mr. Chandos and the doctor, so that I and my curiosity saw nothing of the exit, which I looked upon as an unmerited wrong. She was placed in the carriage, and Hill and the doctor went with her. It was getting near dinner-time. I scarcely knew whether to go down or not, or whether there would be any dinner at all, in the state of confusion the house seemed to be in, when my doubt was solved by Lady Chandos herself. Looking out at my door, she passed me, coming along the gallery from her own room. "I think the dinner is ready, Miss Hereford?" Following her downstairs, I saw Mr. Dexter, the agent, in the open portico, having that moment, as it appeared, come to the house. Lady Chandos crossed the hall to speak to him. He put a sealed parcel, or thick letter into her hands. "I beg your pardon, my lady. As I was passing here, I brought up these papers for Mr. Chandos. The new tenant opposite says there's something amiss with the roof of the coach-house, and I'm going to call and look at it." Lady Chandos glanced casually at the letter she held; and then a thought seemed to strike her. "What is the name of the new tenant, Mr. Dexter?" "Barley, my lady. Mr. Edwin Barley." There was a startled pause. Lady Chandos suddenly put her hand to her heart, as if some pang had taken it. "Barley!" she repeated. "Edwin Barley! Do you know whether he comes from Hallam?" "Hallam?—Hallam?" debated Mr. Dexter with himself, in consideration. "Yes, that _is_ the place he comes from. I remember now. 'Edwin Barley, Esquire, of the Oaks, Hallam.' That's the address in the deed of agreement. Good-day, my lady."