"Of course I am not sure," returned Lizzy: and I pictured Mrs. Penn to myself at that moment: her cheeks flushing red, her eyes flashing fire. "You deceitful woman! You told me last night Mr. Edwin Barley was at home!" "Ma'am, I told you the young man said he was at home. I can't stay here a minute longer: if Hill finds me gossiping here, she'll be fit to pull my ears for me." A slight rustling in the portico. I looked from the window and saw Mrs. Penn go flying away as speedily as a middle-aged, portly women can fly. Mr. Chandos came into the room at the same time. "How is your brother, Mr. Chandos?" "Better, I trust, than he has been for many years in this life. It is over, Anne. He died at twelve last night." The words struck on me as a great shock. Over! Dead! "He was sensible to the last moment. It was a happy death," continued Mr. Chandos, in a low, solemn tone. "Truly may it be said that he has 'come out of great tribulation.' God receive and bless him!" I sat down. Mr. Chandos turned over the letters in an abstracted kind of manner, but did not really look at them. When I thought I might venture to speak, I mentioned Mrs. Penn's reproach to Lizzy Dene, and her running off after (there was no doubt) to Mr. Edwin Barley. "Ay, I saw her go," he replied. "The answer she has been waiting for were the police, on their mission to arrest my brother George. They may come now. And presently will do so," he added, "for I have sent for them." "For the police again! What for?" He made no answer. Emily came in, looking as he did, rather subdued. She spoke civilly to me: with death in a house people keep down their temper. Mr. Chandos rang the bell for breakfast, and then we all stood at the window. "Where's Dr. Laken?" asked Emily. "Gone out," replied Mr. Chandos. "He breakfasted early." "How unfortunate it is that I should have arrived just now!" she exclaimed, after a pause, during which we were all silent. "The carriages must not go out, I suppose, for the next few days." "Ill doing is sure to bring its own punishment, Emily," Mr. Chandos said to her, jestingly, with a sad smile. "You should not have run away." "We shall have Alfred over after me, I expect. His gastric fever will politely vanish when it is necessary that his wife should be looked up. But I am _glad_ that I was here, Harry, after all," she added, her voice changing to one of deep feeling, "for it enabled me to see the last of _him_." "I am glad that he was here," observed Mr. Chandos, "for it afforded the opportunity of his receiving comforts and attendance in his illness that he could not have had abroad. Now that the awful dread of his being discovered has passed away, I see how certainly all things were for the best." "He stayed here a long while this time." "He was too ill to leave. We could not urge it. The final end seemed rapidly and surely approaching." "Do you call his illness consumption?"