Anne Hereford: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"I want to know his name," she continued, looking at me. "He has accosted me once or twice lately. A very civil, gentlemanly man."

"Is he! He has spoken to me, and I—I did not think him so. At least, I did not much like him. He lives in that house by the lodge-gates."

"Oh, then, it must be Mr. Edwin Barley, I suppose. Did you know his name?"

"Yes."

"He is a friend of the people here, I imagine. He stopped me just now and began asking after the health of Lady Chandos, as if he had an interest in it."

"I should not answer any of his questions at all, if I were you, Mrs. Penn."

"Why not?"

"You don't know anything of him, or what his motives may be for inquiry. I once heard Mr. Chandos warn him off these grounds; after that, he has no right to enter them. I think his doing so looks suspicious."

"I think you must be a suspicious young lady to fancy it," returned Mrs. Penn with a laugh. "You were certainly born to be a vieille fille, Anne Hereford. They are always ultra-cautious."

"I daresay I was."