"Harry," she began, in a sharp, authoritative tone, "who has been at this book-case, and left the curtains undrawn?"
"It must have been Mrs. Chandos," he replied, advancing to his mother's side. "The doors are locked, I see; there's no great harm done."
"No harm!" repeated Lady Chandos; "look here."
She pointed to a name written on the white paper cover of one of the books. Mr. Chandos knitted his brow as he bent closer.
"Very thoughtless of her; very negligent," murmured Lady Chandos. "I have said before the keys ought not to be entrusted to Ethel."
As I quitted the room quietly, not liking to stay in it, I saw Mr. Chandos take a bunch of keys from his pocket; and, subsequently, heard the silk curtains drawn close, and the doors relocked. Never should I feel free to go to the book-case again. I had one volume of Shakespeare out, and must make the most of it.
We were having lovely days, and this was one of them. I strolled out, the book in my hand. But, before settling to read, I went to the gates to see how they were getting on with the opposite house. They had been busy furnishing it for two or three days, and I—for want of something better to do—had taken an interest in it, and watched the things going in. It appeared all in order this morning; there was no bustle, no litter; curtains were up, blinds were half-drawn, and smoke was ascending from more than one chimney. The tenant or tenants must have arrived and taken possession.
As I stood leaning over the small side-gate, there came out of that house a man; a gentleman, to appearance; short, and with a dark face. But of the latter I caught but a passing glimpse, for he turned his back immediately to look up at the front of the house. Calling to a manservant, he appeared to be pointing out something that he wished done, or finding fault with something that had been left undone. I could not hear the words but I could the tones; they were authoritative, as was his manner. He was evidently the master.
I thought I had seen him before, for there was something in his figure, and even in the passing sight of his face, which struck upon me as being familiar. I waited for him to turn again, that I might obtain a better view; but he did not, and soon went in. I walked back to a shady bench, and began reading. It was underneath the trees that shaded the side of the broad open walk. Presently the sound of two people, apparently encountering each other, reached me from behind the shrubs.
"Are you here alone, Ethel?" was asked by Mr. Chandos.