"With that disabled foot you may make sure of uninterrupted rest. There is no fear that you will leave your bed to-night to walk in the moonlight."
"You go to bed, and to sleep, and never mind looking for me in the moonlight; to-night, or any other night."
His mood had changed; his brow had grown angry, his voice stern. The thought of having alluded to his infirmity brought back all my humiliation.
"I beg your pardon, sir," I meekly said. And he released my hand without another word.
I thought of it all the time I was undressing; I thought of it after I was in bed. Not of that only, but of other things. If Mr. Edwin Barley was the enemy of the family, as hinted at by Mr. Chandos, and could do them at will irreparable injury; and if he, Edwin Barley, had thus brought himself into proximity, because he had learnt in some unaccountable manner that I was staying there, how they would have cause to detest me! Of course it might not be. Mr. Edwin Barley might have come for his own purposes to Chandos, irrespective of me. I could only hope it was so; but the doubt caused me most jealously to guard his name, as a connexion of mine, from Mr. Chandos.
I dropped into peaceful sleep. My last thought, as it stole over me, was to wonder whether Lizzy Dene and the other maids were watching from the turret-window for the ghost in the pine-walk.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE NEW COMPANION.
A solitary breakfast for me. Mr. Chandos remained in his room, nursing his foot; Lady Chandos was in hers. As I was eating it, Hill came in.
"Will you transact a commission for my lady, this morning, Miss Hereford?"
"With great pleasure," I answered, starting up with alacrity, glad that they were going to give me something to do at last. "What is it?"