This proved to be a very good question indeed.  “About six years,” she said.  “He gave it up just before we were married.  He did not like teaching school, and as the death of his father put him into the possession of some money, he was able to change his mode of life.  It was by accident that we settled here as innkeepers.  We happened to pass the place, and Mr. Chester was struck by its beauty.  It was not an inn then, but he thought it would make a charming one, and he also thought that this sort of life would suit him exactly.  He was a student, a great reader, and a lover of rural sports—­such as fishing and all that.”

[Illustration:  “She began to talk about Walford”]

“Was.”  Here was a dim light.  “Was” must mean that Mr. Chester had been.  If he were living, he would still be a reader and a student.

“Did he find the new life all that he expected?” I said, hesitating a little at the word did, as it was not impossible that I might be mistaken.

“Oh yes, and more.  I think the two years he spent here were the happiest of his life.”

I was not yet quite sure about the state of affairs; he might be in an insane asylum, or he might be a hopeless invalid up-stairs.

“If he had lived,” she continued, “I suppose this would have been a wonderfully beautiful place, for he was always making improvements.  But it is four years now since his death, and in that time there has been very little change in the inn.”

I do not remember what answer I made to this remark, but I gazed out upon the situation as if it were an unrolled map.

“When you wrote your name in the book,” she said, “it seemed to me as if you had brought a note of introduction, and I am sure I am very glad to be acquainted with you, for, you know, you are my husband’s successor.  He did not like teaching, but he was fond of his scholars, and he always had a great fancy for school-teachers.  Whenever one of them stopped here—­which happened two or three times—­he insisted that he should be put into our best room, if it happened to be vacant, and that is the reason I have put you into it to-day.”

This was charming.  She was such an extremely agreeable young person that it was delightful for me to think of myself in any way as her husband’s successor.

There was a step at the door.  I turned and saw the elderly servant.

“Mrs. Chester,” she said, “I’m goin’ up,” and every word was flavored with citric acid.

“Good-night,” said Mrs. Chester, taking up her basket and her work.  “You know, you need not retire until you wish to do so.  There is a room opposite, where gentlemen smoke.”

I did not enter the big, lonely room.  I went to my own chamber, which, I had just been informed, was the best in the house.  I sat down in an easy-chair by the open window.  I looked up to the twinkling stars.