He paused, for a hurried footstep was heard behind them, and Mrs. Hale's voice anxiously calling "Margaret."
At sight of the earl she stopped short, turned pale, and dropped a profound curtsey.
"Oh, my lord! I—we—beg your pardon! My granddaughter lost her way——" then she seemed unable to go any further.
The earl turned to her with the calm, impassive manner he had worn when Margaret had seen him first.
"Do not apologize, Mrs. Hale," he said. "Your granddaughter is perfectly welcome. She is an artist, I hear?"
"Yes, my lord," faltered the old lady, as if she were confessing some great sin of Margaret's.
"Yes, and a capable one I am sure. She will probably like to copy some of the pictures. Please see that she is not disturbed."
Then, leaving the old lady overwhelmed and bewildered, he inclined his head to Margaret and moved away. But as he raised the heavy curtain at the end of the gallery, he turned and looked aside at her with a grave smile.
"The De la Roche shall be re-hung, and the false Wouvermans removed." Then murmuring "would that it were as easy to depose every other false pretender!" he let the curtain fall and disappeared.
Margaret stood looking after him, her brows drawn together dreamily, and seemed to awake with a start when, with a gasp, the old lady turned to her, exclaiming: