"Don't be stupid," retorted Mrs. Chester. "You must have been back some time."
"Have it your own way, Penelope, and perhaps you'll live the longer."
"Uncle Robert, you know you were back ever so long ago," interposed Fanny Chester, who had just come into the room. "You have been staying in the garden with Lady Ellis."
"I saw you. You were both of you going towards the shrubbery."
He caught hold of the little speaker by the waist, and swung her round. "That's the way you see ghosts, is it, Miss Fanny! Take care they don't run away with you! How could you see me in the shrubbery, pray, if I was not there."
"Be quiet, Uncle Robert; put me down. Mamma there's a good fire in the parlour now, and the tea-tray is carried in. And Miss Cooper, I was to tell you they are waiting tea for you in the kitchen."
Mrs. Chester, shaking the threads from her black gown, left the room, Fanny went with her, and Miss Cooper followed. Tea was a thankful boon to the weary, hard-worked dressmaker. Anna never quitted her work until the last minute, and sat on, drawing one of the candles a little nearer to her. Robert Lake began speaking to his wife of the progress of their house; or rather, the non-progress. Clara--the one dreadful certainty giving rise to other suspicions--wondered whether he had bribed the men to retard it. He had not done that, however; he was not one to commit wrong deliberately.
"Seriously speaking, Clara, I do think we shall not get back before Christmas."
She had determined upon saying something; what, she hardly knew. But when she tried to speak, the violent agitation that the effort brought, impeded all utterance. And perhaps the presence of Anna Chester acted as a restraint. She glanced up at him and opened her lips; but no words came; her throat was beating, her breath troubled.
"Clara! you have turned quite white. Are you ill?"
"It is a cold, nasty night," remarked Mr. Lake, giving no further thought to the matter, or supposing that there was cause to give it. "The tea is ready, I think; that will warm you."
He took one of the candles off the table and went to his room to wash his hands. Anna Chester laid down her work and approached Clara.
"Dear Mrs. Lake, something is troubling you," she said in her gentle manner, as her sweet eyes glanced deprecatingly at that care-betraying face. "Can I do anything for you--or get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea up here?"