"Of the night I first heard those awful tidings. It was raining then, a steady soaking rain, and I had been listening to its falling on the leaves till the monotony of the sound worried me, and I began wishing he was at home. Not on these trees, you know; we were at the other place. Drop, drop, drop; as the rain never sounds but where there are trees for it to fall on. The opening of the room-door interrupted me, and my lady came in. Ah! I shall never forget her; her face was white, her eyes looked wild, her hands were lifted; I saw there was something dreadful to be told. She sat down, and, drawing me to her, said——"
"Hush—sh—sh!" interposed Mrs. Freeman, with sharp caution. "You may be speaking for other ears than mine.
"I was not going to allude to facts," was the retort of Mrs. Chandos, her tone peevish at the interruption. "My lady asked me if I could bear trouble; fiery trouble, such as had rarely overtaken one in my rank of life before; and my answer was to fall into a fainting fit at her feet. Never, since then, have I liked to hear the rain pattering down on the leaves where the trees are thick."
I would have shut my door, but feared it might look ungracious to do so. They had eyes, and could see that it was open, if they pleased to look; therefore they might choose their subjects accordingly. Mrs. Chandos resumed.
"Who is that young lady? She came up the stairs, and I spoke without looking round, thinking it was you."
"I don't know who. A Miss Hereford. She came here with Madame de Mellissie as travelling companion."
"But she is a stranger to Lady Chandos?"
"Entirely so."
"Then why does Lady Chandos permit her to be here? Is it well, in this house of misfortune? Is it prudent?"
"Scarcely so. Of course Lady Chandos can only hope—how you are squeezing that kitten, my dear!"