"He did: because you were within hearing. The obstinacy related to George's persistency in taking his night walks in the grounds. It has been a grievous confinement for my mother: she went out a night or two ago for a stroll at dusk, and was unfortunately seen by Mrs. Penn. Hill was so cross that Mrs. Penn should have gone near the pine-walk."
"How much does Madame de Mellissie know of this?" I asked.
"She was cognizant of the crime George was accused of having committed, and that he was in exile. She also knew that we always lived in dread of his coming to Chandos; and for that reason did not welcome strangers here."
"And yet she brought, and left, me!"
"But you have not proved a dangerous inmate, my dear one."
It was kind of him to say that, but I feared I had. That Mrs. Penn had contrived to give notice to Edwin Barley, or would contrive it, was only too probable. Once the house should be opened in the morning nothing could hinder her. Troubled and fearful, I had not spoken for some minutes, neither had he, when Madame de Mellissie's voice was heard in the hall, and he left the room.
She came into it, crossing him on the threshold. Just casting an angry and contemptuous glance on me, she withdrew, and shut the door with a heavy bang, coming back again in a short while.
"Closeted with my brother as usual!" she began, as if not one minute instead of ten had elapsed since seeing me with Mr. Chandos. "Why do you put yourself continuously in his way?"
"Did you speak to me, Madame de Mellissie?" I asked, really doubting if the attack could be meant for me.
"To whom else should I speak?" she returned, in a passionate and abrupt tone. "How dare you presume to seek to entangle Mr. Harry Chandos?"