But something for the first time made her begin to quail. She sat, and tried to recover herself. She put out a shaking hand to the basket of sewing. She could scarcely see it, because suddenly tears had filled her eyes. "Bring one of the men here," she said, after a few moments. "Tell him that I am a little uncertain about the safety of the bridge." She sat quite still while Jane was absent in search of the man. She held her basket on her knee, her hand resting on it. Her kindly, slow-working mind was wakening to strange thoughts. To her they seemed inhuman and uncanny. Was it because good, faithful, ignorant Jane had been rather nervous about Ameerah that she herself had of late got into a habit of feeling as if the Ayah was watching and following her. She had been startled more than once by finding her near when she had not been aware of her presence. She had, of course, heard Hester say that native servants often startled one by their silent, stealthy-seeming ways. But the woman's eyes had frightened her. And she had heard the story about the village girl. She sat, and thought, and thought. Her eyes were fixed upon the moss-covered ground, and her breath came quickly and irregularly several times. "I don't know what to do," she said. "I am sure--if it is true--I don't know what to do." The under-gardener's heavy step and Jane's lighter one roused her. She lifted her eyes to watch the pair as they came. He was a big, young man with a simple rustic face and big shoulders and hands. "The bridge is so slight and old," she said to him, "that it has just occurred to me that it might not be quite safe. Examine it carefully to make sure." The young man touched his forehead and began to look the supports over. Jane watched him with bated breath when he rose to his feet. "They're all right on this side, my lady," he said. "I shall have to get in the boat to make sure of them that rest on the island." He stamped upon the end nearest and it remained firm. "Look at the railing well," said Lady Walderhurst. "I often stand and lean on it and--and watch the sunset." She faltered at this point, because she had suddenly remembered that this was a habit of hers, and that she had often spoken of it to the Osborns. There was a point on the bridge at which, through a gap in the trees, a beautiful sunset was always particularly beautiful. It was the right-hand rail facing these special trees she rested on when she watched the evening sky. The big, young gardener looked at the left-hand rail and shook it with his strong hands. "That's safe enough," he said to Jane. "Try the other," said Jane. He tried the other. Something had happened to it. It broke in his big grasp. His sunburnt skin changed colour by at least three shades.