"I will, with pleasure."
"Thank you. Meanwhile, may I go on with this, as I have begun it?"
He left the tree, took the book from my hand and looked at it. "'Othello;' yes, you may read that."
As he returned the book to me and resumed his position against the tree, some one approached from the outer gate. I thought it was a visitor. He came strolling on in the very middle of the broad avenue, his arms underneath his coat-tails; and soon I perceived it was the gentleman I had seen at the newly-occupied house, giving his directions to the servant. But ah! as he neared us, remembrance, with its cold chill of terror, struck upon my heart. I knew him instantly. It was Mr. Edwin Barley. Mr. Edwin Barley, and not in the least altered.
"Do you want anything, sir?" demanded Mr. Chandos. For the intruder was passing us without ceremony, and turning his head about from side to side as curiously and freely as he might have done on the public road.
"I don't want anything," was the independent answer, and Mr. Edwin Barley stood and faced Mr. Chandos as he spoke it, looking at him keenly. "The open air is free to walk in, I believe."
"Quite so—when you are without these boundaries. But these are private property."
"I am aware that they are the grounds belonging to Chandos House; but I did not know a stranger might not be permitted to walk in them."
"Lady Chandos prefers privacy. Strangers are not in the habit of entering here; nor can their doing so be sanctioned."
"I presume that I am speaking to Mr. Harry Chandos?" Mr. Chandos bowed his head, very coldly. Mr. Edwin Barley bowed in his turn; it might have been called an introduction.