question, or rather the one chance word, “adventure,” lightly as it fell from her lips, recalled my thoughts to my meeting with the woman in white, and urged me to discover the connection which the stranger’s own reference to Mrs. Fairlie informed me must once have existed between the nameless fugitive from the Asylum, and the former mistress of Limmeridge House.
“Even if I were the most restless of mankind,” I said, “I should be in no danger of thirsting after adventures for some time to come.
you will let me leave you when and how I please—only say you won’t interfere with me. Will you promise?”
As she repeated the words for the third time, she came close to me and laid her hand, with a sudden gentle stealthiness, on my bosom— a thin hand; a cold hand (when I removed it with mine) even