"What stake?" I thought, as I went up to my room. Certainly the words savoured of something that I could not comprehend.
Standing at the window at the head of the stairs was the young lady whom they called Mrs. Chandos. She wore a bonnet and shawl, and spoke as I approached.
"I do believe it is raining!"
"Yes," I replied; "some drops were falling when I came in."
But it appeared that Mrs. Chandos, when she spoke, had not thought she was addressing me, for she turned round in astonishment at the sound of my voice.
"Oh—I beg your pardon," she coldly said. And then I saw that she had a white kitten in her arms. I went into my room, but did not close the door, and in a minute I heard the approach of Mrs. Freeman.
"Did you ever know anything so tiresome?" exclaimed Mrs. Chandos to her. "It is raining fast. I am sure it is not once in a month, hardly, that I make up my mind to walk in the grounds, but so sure as I do, I am prevented. It rains; or it snows; or it's too hot; or there's thunder in the air! It comes on purpose, I know."
"Perhaps it will not be much," replied Mrs. Freeman; who, by the sound of her voice, appeared to be also now looking out at the window.
"It will: look at those clouds, gathering fast into one thick mass. Oo—oh!" she added, with a shiver, "I don't like to hear the dripping of the rain on the trees: it puts me in mind of—of——"
"Of what, my dear?" asked Mrs. Freeman.