Mrs. Chester is Troubled

"I went to boarding-school after I left Walford," said she, "and so
for a time lost sight of the village, although I have often visited it
since."

"How long is it since Mr. Chester gave up the school there?" I asked.

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."

"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.