"He is back now: he was home again in about hour. I would give the whole world to know!"
"But why? What business is it of yours or mine? Mr. Chandos's movements are nothing to us."
"They are so much to us—to me—that I would forfeit this to be able to follow him about and see where he goes and what he does," she said, holding up her right hand.
I looked at her in wonder.
"I would. Is it not a singular sort of thing that a gentleman should rise from his bed at two o'clock in the morning, saddle his horse by stealth, and ride forth on a mysterious journey?"
"It is singular. But he may not have saddled his horse by stealth."
"How now?" she tartly answered. "He did saddle it; saddled it himself."
"Yes: but that may have been only from a wish not to disturb the grooms from their rest. To do a thing oneself with a view of sparing others, and to do it stealthily are two things."
"So your spirit must rise up to defend him still! Take care of yourself, Anne Hereford!"
"Nay, there was no defence. What does it signify whether Mr. Chandos saddles a horse for himself or gets a man to saddle it?"