Now, who was insane?—I? or Lady Chandos? or Hill? It seemed to me that it must be one of us, for assuredly all this savoured of insanity. What was it that ailed Lady Chandos? That she was perfectly well in health, I felt persuaded; and she was up and dressed and active; no symptom whatever of the invalid was about her. Could it be that her mind was affected? or was she so overcome with grief at the previous night's exploits of Mr. Chandos as to be obliged to remain in retirement? The latter supposition appeared the more feasible—and I weighed the case in all its bearings. But not quite feasible, either. For Hill appeared to be full mistress of the subject of the mystery, whatever it might be, and Mr. Chandos had said she had no suspicion of his malady. And, besides, would it be enough to keep Lady Chandos in for a week? I dwelt upon it all until my head ached; and, to get rid of my perplexities, I went strolling into the open air. It was a fine sunshiny day, and the blue tint of the bloom upon the pine trees looked lovely in the gleaming light. I turned down a shady path on the left of the broad gravel drive, midway between the house and the entrance-gates. It took me to a part of the grounds where I had never yet penetrated, remote and very solitary. The path was narrow, scarcely admitting of two persons passing each other, and the privet hedge on either side, with the overhanging trees, imparted to it an air of excessive gloom. The path wound in its course; in turning one of its angles, I came right in the face of some one advancing; some one who was so close as to touch me: and my heart leaped into my mouth. It was Mr. Edwin Barley. "Good morning, young lady." "Good morning, sir," I stammered, sick almost unto death, lest he should recognise me; though why that excessive dread of his recognition should be upon me, I could not possibly have explained. He was again trespassing on Chandos; but it was not for me, in my timidity, to tell him so; neither had I any business to set myself forward in upholding the rights of Chandos. "All well at the house?" he continued. "Yes, thank you. All, except Lady Chandos. She keeps her room this morning." "You are a visitor at Chandos, I presume?" "For a little time, sir." "So I judged, when I saw you with Harry Chandos. That you were not Miss Chandos, who married the Frenchman, I knew, for you bear no resemblance to her: and she is the only daughter of the family. I fancied they did not welcome strangers at Chandos." I made no answer; though he looked at me with his jet-black eyes as if waiting for it; the same stern, penetrating eyes as of old. How I wished to get away! but it was impossible to pass by him without rudeness, and he stood blocking up the confined path. "Are you a confidential friend of the family?" he resumed.