"The strangest being," I answered, too absorbed in the subject, too surprised and bewildered, to observe my usual custom of telling nothing to Mrs. Penn. "He was sitting in an easy-chair, supported by pillows; a tall, emaciated man, looking—oh, so ill! His face was the thinnest and whitest I ever saw; but it had a likeness to Mr. Chandos."
Had I been more collected, I might have seen how the revelation affected Mrs. Penn. Just then my eyes and senses were, so to say, blinded. She put her hand on my arm, listening for more.
"He startled me terribly; I declare, at first sight, I did think it was a ghost. Why should he be hidden there?—if he is hidden. Unless it is Sir Thomas Chandos come home from India—Mrs. Penn! what's the matter?"
The expression of her countenance at length arrested me. Her face had turned white, her lips were working with excitement.
"For the love of Heaven, wait!" she uttered. "A tall man, bearing a family likeness to Mr. Chandos—was that what you said?"
"A striking likeness: allowing for the fact that Mr. Chandos is in health, and that the other looks as though he were dying. The eyes are not alike: his are large and dark, Mr. Chandos's blue. Why? Perhaps it is Sir Thomas Chandos."
"It is not Sir Thomas; he is a short, plain man, resembling his mother. No, no; I know too well who it is; and it explains the mystery of that west wing. All that has been so unaccountable to me since I have dwelt at Chandos is plain now. Dolt that I was, never to have suspected it! Oh! but they were clever dissemblers, with their sicknesses of my Lady Chandos!"
She went out, and darted into the east wing. So astonished was I, that I stood looking after her, and saw her come quietly forth again after a minute or two, attired to go out. She was gliding down the stairs, when Mrs. Chandos likewise came from the east wing and called to her.
"Mrs. Penn, where are you going? I want you."
Mrs. Penn thus arrested, turned round, a vexed expression on her face.