I was listening to the rustle of the leaves, and watching—if this is to be a true confession—for Mr. Chandos, when he rode by to the house. Inclination would have led me after him; common sense and propriety kept me where I was. Presently, I saw Lizzy Dene advancing quietly along one of the dark and private paths. She wore her cloak and bonnet, and had a basket on her arm, as if she had been on an errand to the village. In a moment some gentleman had met her and they were talking together. It was Edwin Barley. There were so many outlets from the broad walk that almost any of these private paths could be gained at will. Lizzy Dene came on almost directly; she seemed to be in a hurry, and turned off towards the kitchens. The next to appear in the same walk was Mrs. Penn, striking right across the steps of Mr. Edwin Barley. I was so sheltered by surrounding trees that they could not see me; but as they came nearer, walking side by side, Mrs. Penn's eye caught mine. She quickened her pace, and Mr. Edwin Barley turned back, raising his hat to her. "Here you are with your book," she began. "Is it not too dark to see to read?" "Almost. Have you been for a walk, Mrs. Penn?" I asked, hoping she'd not mention the name of Edwin Barley. "I have been to the village post. I don't care to entrust my letters now to the hall-table. Did you notice a gentleman with me down there, Miss Hereford?" "I think I did see some one walking with you. It is dark amid all those trees." "I want to know his name," she continued, looking at me. "He has accosted me once or twice lately. A very civil, gentlemanly man." "_Is_ he! He has spoken to me, and I—I did not think him so. At least, I did not much like him. He lives in that house by the lodge-gates." "Oh, then, it must be Mr. Edwin Barley, I suppose. Did you know his name?" "Yes." "He is a friend of the people here, I imagine. He stopped me just now and began asking after the health of Lady Chandos, as if he had an interest in it." "I should not answer any of his questions at all, if I were you, Mrs. Penn." "Why not?" "You don't know anything of him, or what his motives may be for inquiry. I once heard Mr. Chandos warn him off these grounds; after that, he has no right to enter them. I think his doing so looks suspicious." "I think you must be a suspicious young lady to fancy it," returned Mrs. Penn with a laugh. "You were certainly born to be a vieille fille, Anne Hereford. They are always ultra-cautious." "I daresay I was." "When a gentleman—and a neighbour, as you now say he is—makes inquiries in passing after the invalids of the family you may be staying with, _I_ do not see any harm in answering. One can't turn away like a bear, and say, I will not tell you." "As you please. I do not think Mr. Chandos would approve of your speaking to him." "Talking of Mr. Chandos, has he returned from that police errand yet?" "I saw him ride past half an hour ago."