Leaning against the wall, on the far side, was Mr. Chandos, who must have heard what had been said. That she was unconscious of his vicinity, I was certain, and, for myself, I started when I saw him. He said something, but I made as if I did not hear, and went quickly on. The post-office was farther than I thought. I picked some ferns and blackberries; and I lingered on my road in miserable musing. By the time I turned to go home again, it had grown dusk. There was a lane near to Chandos, which led to a small entrance-gate at an obscure part of the grounds: the laurel-gate it was called, because many laurels grew near it. By taking this way I should cut off a good portion of the road, and down the lane I turned. Very much to my surprise, I came by-and-by to a cottage. A cottage I had never seen before; and was very sorry to see it now, for it showed me that I had turned down the wrong lane. It was the waste of time that vexed me; but all I could do was to retrace my steps and take the right lane. It was nearly dark night when I at length got to the laurel-gate; some of the stars were shining. The gate was unlatched, as if the last person who passed through had omitted to close it. A narrow path led to other narrow paths, which branched off through the trees; I hesitated which to take, not being certain which would lead me soonest to the house; and as I stood thinking, a dark form came following me down the lane. It was Mr. Edwin Barley's. The dark night, the superstition attaching to the place, the proximity of the man I so dreaded, brought enough of terror. He might be coming to seize me and claim me then! The fear lent me wings. Flying up a path at hazard, I never ceased the speed until I was in the broad walk, and close—it was rather curious that it should be so,—to Mr. Chandos. He was coming in from an errand to the lodge. With a sense of protection that was as a very balm to my spirit, I rested my hand on his arm. All considerations were merged in the moment's terror. I forgot his great offence; I forgot my own self-esteem: standing there, he appeared to me only as a great and powerful protector, one in whom I might find safety and shelter. "Oh, Mr. Chandos! In mercy take care of me!" Once more, as if nothing wrong had stepped between us, he held me against his side. He must have felt the throbs of my beating heart. "What has alarmed you?" he asked, in a tone a great deal too full of tenderness. My only answer was to draw back amid the side trees, that I might be hidden from Edwin Barley. Mr. Chandos came and stood there also. "What is it, Anne? The ghost? Or Edwin Barley again?" My senses were in a degree returning to me and I told him what had occurred; turning my head to listen still. "He will not follow you here. As to the lane, usage has made it public property, and he has a right to walk in it if he chooses."