"Ought you not?" he said, with a faint smile crossing his clear-cut features.
"No—my lord," she faltered, venturing on that form; "I—I came here by accident. I lost my way. I am very sorry."
"Do not apologize," he said, bending his piercing eyes on her face, and smiling again as he noticed her abashed expression; "it is not a deadly sin. Are you——" he hesitated. It was evident that he did not want to add to her distress and confusion, and was choosing his words—"Are you staying here?"
"Yes," said Margaret; "I am staying with Mrs. Hale, my grandmother, my lord."
"Ah, yes!" he murmured. "Yes. Mrs. Hale. Yes, yes. You are her granddaughter. What is your name?"
"Margaret—Margaret Hale," she said.
"And how long have you been here?" he asked.
"I came last night, my lord," said Margaret.
"Last night? Yes. And you were on a voyage of discovery——"
"Oh, no, no!" she broke in, quickly. "I was looking for Mrs. Hale, and—opened the wrong door; when I came into the corridor outside I saw the pictures, and"—her color rose—"I was tempted to come in," and, with an inclination of the head, she was moving away.