"Of course, sir, I do not fail to see that there are interests here that involve caution and care, though I cannot think how, or what they are. If you would entrust me with them—and I could help in any way—I should be glad. I would be so true." "Ay, I am sure you would be. Latterly a vision has crossed me of a time—a possible future when it might be disclosed. But it is neither probable nor near. Indeed, it seems like a dream even to glance at it." He had been looking at the far-off skies as he spoke, as though _he_ were in a dream. The urn was brought in, and I went to the table to make the tea. Newspapers and letters arrived; he was buried in them during breakfast, and carried them afterwards to his own sitting-room. I saw his horse brought to the door in the course of the morning. In crossing the hall to go to it, he looked in at oak-parlour. I was mending gloves. "Hard at work! Do you wear mended gloves?" "Everybody is not Mr. Chandos of Chandos. Poor governesses have to wear many things that the gay world does not. And Mrs. Paler has not paid me." "Shall I bring you some gloves home to-day?" "Oh, no indeed; no, thank you, Mr. Chandos;" I answered, speaking and colouring much more vehemently than the occasion called for. "Are you going for a ride?" "I am going to the police-station at Warsall, to endeavour to get a sight of that note." "Who could have written it? It seems so useless a hoax to have played." "Useless?—As it turned out, yes. But it strikes me the intention was neither harmless nor useless," he added, in a thoughtful tone. "Shall you not institute an inquiry into it, Mr. Chandos?" "No. I shall pick up what there may be to pick up in a quiet way; but I shall make no stir in it. I have my reasons. Good-bye, Anne. Mind you mend those gloves neatly." "Good-bye, sir. Take care of Black Knave—that he does not throw you again." He went away laughing at his own remark on the gloves, or mine on Black Knave, went up to the west wing, and was down again in a minute. The horse was a favourite, and he patted him and spoke to him before mounting. The groom rode a bright bay horse; a fine animal also. Surely there was no harm in my looking from the window to watch them away! But Mrs. Penn, who came into the oak-parlour at the moment, appeared to think there was. Her lips were drawn in and her brow had a frown on it as I turned to her. With that want of ceremony that distinguished her customary behaviour to me, she flung herself back in an easy-chair, her arms hanging down listlessly, her feet stretching out. Her gown was a bright muslin of beautiful hue and texture; her glowing hair had purple ribbons in it and black lace lappets. "What a place this Chandos seems to be!" she exclaimed. "Did you ever see such a house, Miss Hereford? That visit of the police—riding up with their naked sabres!" "The sabres were in their sheaths."