He took his wife into the dining-room, apologising for being late. She, giving full range to the fancies she had called up, heard him in silence with a hardening haughty face. "Philip, you know who that woman is," she suddenly exclaimed during a temporary absence of Japhet from the dining-room. "What is it that she wants with you?" "I!" he returned, in a surprise very well feigned if not real. "What woman? Do you mean the one who was standing out there yesterday?" "You know I do. She has been there again--all the blessed afternoon, as Penelope expresses it. Asking questions of the girl about you--and me--and Walter; and saying the child has your beautiful brown eyes. _I ask you who is she?_" Mr. Hamlyn laid down his knife and fork to gaze at his wife. He looked quite at sea. "Eliza, I assure you I know nothing about it. Or about her." "Indeed! Don't you think it may be some acquaintance, old or new? Possibly someone you knew in the days gone by--come over seas to see whether you are yet in the land of the living? She has wonderful hair, which looks like spun gold." All in a moment, as the half-mocking words left her lips, some idea seemed to flash across Philip Hamlyn, bringing with it distress and fear. His face turned to a burning red and then grew white as the hue of the grave. THE SILENT CHIMES V.--SILENT FOR EVER I Breakfast was on the table in Mr. Hamlyn's house in Bryanston Square, and Mrs. Hamlyn waited, all impatience, for her lord and master. Not in any particular impatience for the meal itself, but that she might "have it out with him"--the phrase was hers, not mine, as you will see presently--in regard to the perplexity existing in her mind connected with the strange appearance of the damsel watching the house, in her beauty and her pale golden hair. Why had Philip Hamlyn turned sick and faint--to judge by his changing countenance--when she had charged him at dinner, the previous evening, with knowing something of this mysterious woman? Mysterious in her actions, at all events; probably in herself. Mrs. Hamlyn wanted to know that. No further opportunity had then been given for pursuing the subject. Japhet had returned to the room, and before the dinner was at an end, some acquaintance of Mr. Hamlyn had fetched him out for the evening. And he came home with so fearful a headache that he had lain groaning and turning all through the night. Mrs. Hamlyn was not a model of patience, but in all her life she had never felt so impatient as now. He came into the room looking pale and shivery; a sure sign that he was suffering; that it was not an invented excuse. Yes, the pain was better, he said, in answer to his wife's question; and might be much better after a strong cup of tea; he could not imagine what had brought it on. _She_ could have told him, though, had she been gifted with the magical power of reading minds, and have seen the nervous apprehension that was making havoc with his.