"We will forget this, Lizzy Dene; at any rate for the present. I am tired of this subject; and I do not suppose it to have been any of the gipsies. Some poor mad woman, more probably, escaped from the county asylum. Don't trouble yourself about it further."
Lizzy looked hard at him, as if she would have said more, but finally withdrew in silence.
"Tired of everything, I think, to-night!" he added, with a weary sigh, as she closed the door. "Tired even of reading!"
"Can I do anything to amuse you, Mr. Chandos?" I asked, for he threw his book on the stand.
"Ay. Sit you down on that low chair, and tell me the stories of your past life, after the manner of fairy-tales."
The chair was on the opposite side to the sofa, and I sat down upon it. He made me come quite close to him, lest he should not hear. Which must have been said in jest, for his ears were quick. But I drew it nearer.
"Now for fairy-tale the first. How shall you begin?"
"I don't know how to begin, sir. My life has had no fairy-tales in it. I have not had a home, as other girls have."
"Not had a home!"
"I had one when I was a little girl. Mamma lived in a cottage in Devonshire, and I was with her."