"How you startled me!" she exclaimed. "With that great brown shawl on your head, you look as much like a man as a woman. But I saw by the height it was not he. Did you know that he came—that he was here last night?" she added, dropping her voice to the faintest whisper.
It was the first time Mrs. Chandos had voluntarily addressed me. Of course I guessed that she alluded to Mr. Harry Chandos: but I hesitated to answer, after the caution he had given me. Was there anything wild about her voice and manner as she spoke?—had her spirits run away with her to-night?—or did the fact of her flitting about in the white evening-dress in this wild way, like any schoolgirl, cause me to fancy it?
"Did you know it, I ask?" she impatiently rejoined. "Surely you may answer me."
"Yes!" There seemed no help for it. "I saw him madam, but I shall not mention it. The secret is safe with me."
"You saw him! Oh, heaven, what will be done?" she cried, in evident distress. "It was so once before: the servants saw him. You must not tell any one; you must not."
"Indeed I will not. I am quite trustworthy."
"What are you doing out here?" she sharply said. "Looking for him?"
"Indeed no. I was dull by myself, and came across unthinkingly. I am as true as you, Mrs. Chandos. I would not, for the world, say a word to harm him."
The assurance seemed to satisfy—to calm her; she grew quiet as a little child.
"To talk of it might cause grievous evil, you know; it might lead to—but I had better not say more to a stranger. How did you come to know of it?"