The tea revived her, and after a little she turned her head and looked up at him.

“Well, Dimsdale?”

Dimsdale coughed.  “It was about Sir Giles that I wanted to speak to your ladyship.”

“Well?” she said again.

“Sir Giles, my lady, is not himself—­not at all himself,” Dimsdale told her cautiously.  “I was wondering just before you came in if I didn’t ought to send for the doctor.”

“Why, Dimsdale?” Anne looked straight up into the old man’s troubled face, but her eyes had a strangely aloof expression, as though the matter scarcely touched her.

Dimsdale shook his head.  “It’s not the same as usual, my lady.  I’ve never seen him like this before.  There’s something—­I don’t rightly know what—­about him that fair scares me.  If your ladyship will only let me send for the doctor—­”

He paused.  Anne’s eyes had gone back to the fire.  She seemed to be considering.

“I don’t think the doctor would be at home,” she said at last.  “Wait till the morning, Dimsdale—­unless he is really ill.”

“My lady, it’s not that,” said Dimsdale.  “There’s nothing ails his body.  But—­but—­” he faltered a little, and finally, “It’s his mind,” he said, “if I may make so bold as to say it.  I don’t believe as he’s safe.  I’m afraid he’ll be doing a mischief to—­someone.”

His pause was not lost upon Anne.  Again she raised her eyes and steadily regarded him.

“To whom, Dimsdale?” she asked.

“My lady—­” the old man murmured unwillingly.

“To me?” she questioned in a quiet, unmoved voice.  “Why are you afraid of that?”

Dimsdale hesitated.

“Tell me,” she said.  But again her eyes had sunk to the fire.  She seemed as one not vitally interested, as one whose thoughts were elsewhere.

Reluctantly Dimsdale made answer:  “He’s been cutting your ladyship’s portrait into strips and burning ’em in the study fire.  It was dreadful to see him, so intent like and quiet.  I saw him put his hand right into the flame once, and he didn’t seem to know.  And he came in in one of his black moods with his hunting-crop broken right in two.  Carrying the pieces he was, and glaring like as if all the world was against him.  I was afraid there would be trouble when he came home to lunch and found your ladyship not there.”

He stopped, arrested by a sudden movement from Anne.  She had leaned forward and covered her face with her hands.  The tension of her attitude was such that Dimsdale became strongly aware that his presence was an intrusion.  Yet, the matter being urgent, he stood his ground.

He waited silently, and presently Anne lifted her head.  “I think you must leave the matter till the morning, Dimsdale,” she said.  “It could do no good to have the doctor at this hour.  Besides, I doubt if he could come.  And Sir Giles will be himself again after a night’s rest.”

“I’m very much afraid not, my lady,” said Dimsdale lugubriously.  “He’s drinking brandy—­neat brandy—­all the while.  I’ve never seen him drink like that before.  It fair scares me, and that’s the truth.”