I spoke a few words as well as I could; just the heads of what I had heard, and from whom. "Mrs. Penn! Why she of all people must know better. She knows who Mrs. Chandos's husband is. Surely she cannot be mistaking me for my brother!" "I thought, sir, you had no brother, except Sir Thomas." "Yes, I have another brother," he answered, in a whisper. "You saw him to-day, Anne." "That poor sick gentleman, who looks so near the grave?" "Even so. It is he who is the husband of Mrs. Chandos. The fact of his being at Chandos is unknown, not to be spoken of," he said, sinking his voice still lower, and glancing round the walls of the room, as though he feared they might contain eavesdroppers. "Take care that it does not escape your lips." Alas! it had escaped them. I bent my head and my troubled face, wondering whether I ought to confess it to him. But he spoke again. "And so—this is the silly dream you have been losing yourself in! Anne! could you not have trusted me better?" "You must please forgive me," I said, looking piteously at him through my tears. Forgive me! He suddenly put out his arms, and gathered me to his breast. "Will you recall your vow, child; never—under any circumstances that the world can bring forth—to accept my love?" he whispered. "Oh, Anne, my darling! it would be cruel of you to part us." Never more would I doubt him, never more. True, kind, good, his face was bent, waiting for the answer. My whole heart, my trust went out to him, then and for ever. I lifted my eyes with all their love, and stole my hand into his. Down came his kisses upon my lips by way of sealing the compact. "And so you are willing to trust me without the explanation?" How willing, none save myself could tell. "Quite willing," I whispered. "I am certain you have not been guilty of any crime." "Never; so help me heaven," he fervently answered. "But disgrace reflects upon me, for all that, and you must give your final decision when you have heard it." Oh, but he knew; the smile on his face betrayed it; that I should never go back from him again. I sat down in my chair: he put his elbow on the mantelpiece as before. "Anne, you will not run away from Chandos now?" "Not to-morrow, sir." "Am I to be 'sir' always, you shy child? But about this fable of yours connecting me with Mrs. Chandos? It could scarcely have been Mrs. Penn who imparted it to you?" "Indeed it was. She said a great deal more than that." "It is not possible she can be mistaking me for my brother," he repeated, in deliberation with himself. "That cannot be, for she believes him to be a fugitive. This is very strange, Anne." Perhaps Mrs. Penn is false? I thought in my inmost heart. Perhaps she has a motive in wishing me to quit Chandos? She had certainly done her best to forward it—and to prejudice me against him. "Do you _know_ Mrs. Penn to be true to your interests, Mr. Chandos? I mean to those of the family?"