"Did I offend you last night, Miss Hereford?" "No, sir." "Walk with me a few steps, then," he rejoined. "I assumed the liberty of treating you as a sister—as though you were Emily. I thought you would have the good sense to understood so, and feel no offence. What caused you to be looking from your door?" "The commotion in the gallery awoke me, sir, and I felt frightened. It was only natural I should look to see what caused it." "What did you see?" "I saw Lady and Mrs. Chandos; and I saw you, sir. You were supporting Mrs. Chandos." "Did you see any one else." "No; not any one else." For the space of a full minute Mr. Chandos never took his eyes from me. It looked as if he questioned my veracity. "I forgot Hickens, sir; I saw him. At least, in point of fact, I did not see him; he did not come high enough; I only heard him." "Suppose I were to tell you it was not Mrs. Chandos you saw?" "But it was Mrs. Chandos, sir; I am sure of it. I recognised her in spite of her hanging hair, and I also recognised her voice." "You are equally sure, I presume, that it was myself?" "Of course I am, sir. Why, did you not speak to me at my door afterwards?" Could I have been mistaken in thinking that a great relief came over his face? "Ah, yes," he continued after a pause, while his gaze went out into the far distance, "Mrs. Chandos is one of our troubles. She is not in good health, and has disturbed us before in the same manner. The fact is, she is what is called nervous; meaning that she is not so collected at times as she ought to be. I am very sorry you were disturbed." "Pray don't think anything of that, sir. She feels strange, perhaps, now Mrs. Freeman is gone." "Yes, that is it. But it has very much upset my mother." "I fancied yesterday evening that Mrs. Chandos was not quite right; though, perhaps, I ought not to repeat it. Her manner was a little wild." "Yesterday evening! When did you see her yesterday evening?" "I saw her out in the grounds, sir, in the pine walk." "Alone?" "Quite alone, sir, in her white silk evening-dress. It was at dusk; just before I ran in to the oak-parlour, if you remember. Mrs. Chandos and I came in together." "What took _you_ there?" he asked, abruptly. I told him what—that I had stepped out, being alone, and crossed the grass. "Well," he said, gravely, "allow me to caution you not to go out of doors after dusk, Miss Hereford; there are reasons against it. I will take care that Mrs. Chandos does not. We might have you both run away with," he added, in a lighter tone. "There is no fear of that, sir." "You do not know what there is fear of," he sharply answered. "Last night you looked as scared as could be. You will be fancying you see ghosts in the pine walk next, or me, perhaps, walking in my sleep." "We thought we did, sir. At least, something was there that looked like a man." "What kind of man?" he hastily asked. "One short and thick. I suppose it was only the trunk of a tree."