"I don't know about comfort: they are wretchedly dull. I'd as soon be cooped up in a prison. Not a soul to speak to from morning to night, but Mrs. Chandos. Here you have Mr. Chandos; full state and ceremony; and the chance of seeing all the visitors."
"All the visitors consist of a doctor now and then, and Mr. Dexter once a week, or so," I said, laughing.
"A doctor and an agent are better than nobody. I suppose," she added, after a pause, "they are all assembled in party conclave in the west wing; Mr. Chandos, Mrs. Chandos, and my lady."
"I wish Lady Chandos was better," I remarked.
Mrs. Penn turned round eagerly, her eye lighting with excitement.
"I wish I knew what it is that's the matter with her! I wish I knew! Do you never gather a hint of it from Mr. Chandos?"
"Never. But why should you be so desirous to learn? What is it to you, Mrs. Penn?"
"I have my reasons," she replied, nodding her head. "I won't tell them to you this evening, but I have not made a vow that I never will. If she is insane, as I suspect, why then—but I'll say no more now. What a strange thing it is about that letter!"
"Very. You are suspecting some one in particular?"
"Well?" she answered, sharply, turning her face to me.