I made no answer. Some feeling, that I did not stay to sift, forbade me to say it was from himself.
"I know; it was from Madame de Mellissie. It was very foolish of her to tell you. It was wrong of her to bring you here at all."
As Mrs. Chandos spoke, there was something in her words, in her tone, in her manner altogether, that caused a worse idea to flash across me—that she was not quite herself. Not insane; it was not that thought; but a little wanting in intellect; as if the powers of mind were impaired. It startled me beyond measure, and I began to think that I ought to try and get her indoors.
"Shall you not take cold out her, Mrs. Chandos?"
"I never take cold. You see, I am my own mistress now: when Mrs. Freeman's here, she will never let me come out after dusk. Lady Chandos sent my maid to sit with me this evening, but I lay down on the sofa, and told her I was perhaps going to sleep and she could not stay with me. And I came out; I thought I might see him."
Every word she spoke added to the impression.
"And so you saw him last night! I did not; I never do. The windows looking this way are closed. And perhaps if I were to see him like that, and be taken by surprise, it might make me ill: Mrs. Freeman says it would. It is so sad, you know!"
"Very sad," I murmured, assuming still that she alluded to the infirmity of Mr. Chandos.
"They never told me. They are not aware that I know it. I found it out to-day. I was going about the gallery early this morning, before Hill came home, and I found it out. When Mrs. Freeman's here, I can only get out when she pleases. You cannot think what a long time it is since—since——"
"Since what?" I asked, as she came to a stop.