Heaven help me! Yes, it was so; I did love him. My face grew burning hot; I beat my foot upon the carpet. "I did the best that could be done: at least I strove to do it. It was my intention to lay before you the unhappy case without disguise, its whole facts and deterrent circumstances, and then to say—'Now marry me or reject me?'" "How can you so speak to me, sir? Marry me! with—with—that barrier?" "But that barrier may be removed." Oh! I saw now, or fancied I saw, the far-off thought he was driving at. Staying seemed to make matters worse; and I got up from my seat to leave him. "Your turning out to be who you are of course made the difficulty greater. I said so last night——" "No, it does not," I interrupted, with an impassioned sob, partly of love, partly of anger. "Whether I am regarded as a poor strange governess, or the daughter of Colonel Hereford, there could never, never be any excuse for you." "Is that your final, calm opinion?" he asked, standing before me to ask the question. "It is, Mr. Chandos. It will never change. You ought to despise me if it could." "Forgive, forgive me, Miss Hereford! Nothing remains for me now but to ask it." I could not forgive him; but I was spared saying it, for Hill opened the parlour-door in haste. "Mr. Harry, will you please go up to the west wing? At once, sir." "Any change, Hill?" "No, sir; it's not that. A little trouble." "Oh! Mrs. Chandos is there, I suppose?" "Yes, sir." _Need_ he have asked that question, have mentioned her name in my presence? It struck me that it was a gratuitous insult. Mr. Chandos followed Hill from the room, and as soon as I thought he was safe within the west wing, I flew up to my own chamber. Flew up with a breaking heart: a heart that felt its need of solitude, of being where it could indulge its own grief unseen, unmolested. I was not, however, to gain my chamber; for, at the entrance to the east wing stood Mrs. Penn, and she arrested me. "Come into my sitting-room," she said. "Mrs. Chandos will not be back for an hour. She is paying a visit to the west wing." "Mr. Chandos also," I replied, as indifferently as I could well speak. "Mr. Chandos also," she assented, having paused to look in my face before speaking. "They meet there more frequently than the house suspects." "But why may they not meet? Why is it that they live estranged—or appear to do so?" "Sit you down," she said, drawing me along the passage and into a small sitting-room. "Here is a warm seat by the fire. There is estrangement between Mr. and Mrs. Chandos, but how far it precisely extends I cannot tell you." "I did not ask you how far the estrangement extended; I asked you its cause." "Be content with knowing what you do know, Miss Hereford, without inquiring into causes. The advice is offered you in kindness. I can tell you one thing, that never was more impassioned love given to woman than he at one time felt for Mrs. Chandos."