"It's not the country I'm thinking of. All I know
is she's had four maids in the last six months, and the last one, who
was a friend of mine, told me nobody could stay in the house."

"Did she say why?" I asked.

"No--she wouldn't give me her reason. But she says to me, _Mrs. Ansey_,
she says, _if ever a young woman as you know of thinks of going there,
you tell her it's not worth while to unpack her boxes_."

"Is she young and handsome?" said I, thinking of Mr. Brympton.

"Not her! She's the kind that mothers engage when they've gay young
gentlemen at college."

Well, though I knew the woman was an idle gossip, the words stuck in my
head, and my heart sank lower than ever as I drove up to Brympton in
the dusk. There _was_ something about the house--I was sure of it now...

When I went in to tea I heard that Mr. Brympton had arrived, and I saw
at a glance that there had been a disturbance of some kind. Mrs.
Blinder's hand shook so that she could hardly pour the tea, and Mr.
Wace quoted the most dreadful texts full of brimstone. Nobody said a
word to me then, but when I went up to my room Mrs. Blinder followed me.

"Oh, my dear," says she, taking my hand, "I'm so glad and thankful
you've come back to us!"

That struck me, as you may imagine. "Why," said I, "did you think I was
leaving for good?"

"No, no, to be sure," said she, a little confused, "but I can't a-bear
to have madam left alone for a day even." She pressed my hand hard,
and, "Oh, Miss Hartley," says she, "be good to your mistress, as you're
a Christian woman." And with that she hurried away, and left me staring.

A moment later Agnes called me to Mrs. Brympton. Hearing Mr. Brympton's
voice in her room, I went round by the dressing-room, thinking I would
lay out her dinner-gown before going in. The dressing-room is a large
room with a window over the portico that looks toward the gardens. Mr.
Brympton's apartments are beyond. When I went in, the door into the
bedroom was ajar, and I heard Mr. Brympton saying angrily:--"One would
suppose he was the only person fit for you to talk to."

"I don't have many visitors in winter," Mrs. Brympton answered quietly.

"You have _me!_" he flung at her, sneering.

"You are here so seldom," said she.

"Well--whose fault is that? You make the place about as lively as a
family vault--"

With that I rattled the toilet-things, to give my mistress warning and
she rose and called me in.

The two dined alone, a