"Well?"
"I ought to have told you then—but I had not the courage—that I had already betrayed it. In the surprise of the moment, as I left the west wing after seeing him, I mentioned it to Mrs. Penn. It was done thoughtlessly; not intentionally; and I am very sorry for it."
"I am sorry also," he said, after a pause. "Mrs. Penn?" he slowly continued, as if deliberating whether she were a safe person or not. "Well, it might possibly have been imparted to a worse."
"Oh, but you have not heard all," I feverishly returned. "I do not think it could have been imparted to a worse than Mrs. Penn; but I did not know it then. I believe she has been writing to Mr. Edwin Barley."
My fingers were trembling, my face I know was flushed. Mr. Chandos laid his cool hand upon me.
"Take breath, Anne; and calmness. I shall understand it better."
I strove to do as he said, and tell what I had to tell in as few words as possible. That I had said it must be Sir Thomas Chandos: that Mrs. Penn, wildly excited, said it was not Sir Thomas; and so on to the note she gave Lizzy Dene. Mr. Chandos grew a little excited himself as he read the note.
"Nothing could have been more unfortunate than this. Nothing; nothing."
"The most curious thing is, that when Lizzy Dene came back she affirmed to Mrs. Penn that she had delivered the note," I resumed. "I cannot make that out."
Mr. Chandos sat thinking, his pale face full of trouble and perplexity.