I heard something else: a stir in the gallery. It seemed as if some one burst out at the doors of the west wing, and came swiftly to the chamber of Mr. Chandos. In the stillness of night, sounds are plainly distinct that would be inaudible in the day. The footsteps were like Hill's, as if she had only stockings on. There was a brief whispering in Mr. Chandos's chamber, and the same footsteps ran back to the west wing. What could be the matter? Was Lady Chandos worse? Almost as I asked myself the question, I heard Mr. Chandos come out of his room, go downstairs, and out at the hall-door. Curiosity led me to look from the window. The stars were shining; I suppose it was a frost; and the tops of the dark pine-trees rose clear and defined against the sky. All was quiet. A very few minutes and other sounds broke the silence: those of a horse's footsteps. Mr. Chandos—as I supposed it to be—came riding forth at a canter from the direction of the stables: the pace increasing to a gallop as he turned into the broad walk. There seemed less sleep for me than ever. In about an hour's time I heard Mr. Chandos ride in again. I heard him ride round to the stables, and come back thence on foot. He let himself in at the hall-door, came softly upstairs, and went into the west wing. It was in that wing that something must be amiss. I was three-parts dressed in the morning when Mrs. Penn knocked at my door and entered. I did wish she would not thus interrupt me! Once she had come when I was reading my chapter; once during my prayers. "Did you hear any disturbance in the night?" she began. "Mr. Chandos went out at two o'clock. Do you know what for?" "Mrs. Penn! How should I be likely to know?" "I happened to be up, looking from the end window——" "At that time of night?" I interrupted. "Yes, at that time of night," she repeated. "I was watching for—for—the ghost if you will" (but I thought somehow she said the ghost to mystify me), "and so I may as well confess it. I often do watch from my window at night. Quite on a sudden a figure appeared making its way swiftly towards the stables; my heart stood still for a moment; I thought the ghost had come at last. I did, Anne Hereford: and you need not gaze at me with your searching eyes, as if you questioned my veracity. But soon I recognised Mr. Chandos, and presently saw him come back on horseback. Where did he go? For what purpose?" "You put the questions as though you thought I could answer them," I said to her; and so she did, speaking in a demanding sort of way. "I cannot tell where Mr. Chandos has gone." "He is back now: he was home again in about hour. I would give the whole world to know!" "But why? What business is it of yours or mine? Mr. Chandos's movements are nothing to us." "They are so much to us—to me—that I would forfeit this to be able to follow him about and see where he goes and what he does," she said, holding up her right hand. I looked at her in wonder.