"A gentleman—in this remote part of the grounds!" he repeated, looking keenly at me, as a severe expression passed momentarily across his face. "Was it any one you knew?"
"It was he who came into the broad walk, and whom you ordered out—the new tenant. He is gone now."
"He! I fancied so," returned Mr. Chandos, the angry flush deepening. And it seemed almost as though he were angry with me.
"I found out the walk by accident, sir, and I met him in it. He stopped and accosted me with several questions, which I thought very rude of him."
"What did he ask you?"
"He wished to know my name, who I was, and what I was doing at Chandos; but I did not satisfy him. He then inquired about the family, asking what members of it were at home."
"And you told him?"
"There was no need to tell him, sir, for he mentioned the names to me; yourself, Lady, and Mrs. Chandos."
"Ethel! he mentioned her, did he! What did he call her?—Mrs. Chandos?"
"He did not mention her by name, sir; he said 'daughter-in-law.'" I did not tell Mr. Chandos that the designation made an impression upon me, establishing the supposition that Mrs. Chandos was a daughter-in-law.