"Ma'am, I told you the young man said he was at home. I can't stay here a minute longer: if Hill finds me gossiping here, she'll be fit to pull my ears for me."
A slight rustling in the portico. I looked from the window and saw Mrs. Penn go flying away as speedily as a middle-aged, portly women can fly. Mr. Chandos came into the room at the same time.
"How is your brother, Mr. Chandos?"
"Better, I trust, than he has been for many years in this life. It is over, Anne. He died at twelve last night."
The words struck on me as a great shock. Over! Dead!
"He was sensible to the last moment. It was a happy death," continued Mr. Chandos, in a low, solemn tone. "Truly may it be said that he has 'come out of great tribulation.' God receive and bless him!"
I sat down. Mr. Chandos turned over the letters in an abstracted kind of manner, but did not really look at them. When I thought I might venture to speak, I mentioned Mrs. Penn's reproach to Lizzy Dene, and her running off after (there was no doubt) to Mr. Edwin Barley.
"Ay, I saw her go," he replied. "The answer she has been waiting for were the police, on their mission to arrest my brother George. They may come now. And presently will do so," he added, "for I have sent for them."
"For the police again! What for?"
He made no answer. Emily came in, looking as he did, rather subdued. She spoke civilly to me: with death in a house people keep down their temper. Mr. Chandos rang the bell for breakfast, and then we all stood at the window.