"I know that you can tell a parcel of fibs, you wicked child," she returned, in a fond accent. "Anne,—I shall call you so to-night,—I have come to talk to you; and talk I shall. I want to save you."
"Save me from what?"
"From the—what shall I call it?—the machinations of Harry Chandos."
"Mr. Chandos is working no machinations against me."
"I know that he is. He has been making you a declaration of love."
The tell-tale crimson lighted up my face. Mrs. Penn continued, taking my hand.
"I felt uneasy, and made my scissors an excuse for coming to the oak-parlour. You should not have heard it from him. I warned you that any attachment between you and Mr. Chandos could not end happily; you cannot marry him!"
My nerves were completely unstrung, and I burst into tears; I could play a false part no longer. It was bitter enough to hear her confirm his own words. Mrs. Penn gently stroked my hair.
"Child, do you know why I thus interfere between you and Mr. Chandos? I will tell you. A few years ago I became attached to a young girl of eighteen—a connexion of mine. She was under my charge and under my eye; her name, Lottie Penn! A stranger came, fascinating as Mr. Chandos; and I, believing him to be upright and honourable, exercised little caution. He gained her love, just as Mr. Chandos is gaining yours——
"Mrs. Penn!"