“It’s the earl,” he said briefly.
Lady Marion started to her feet with a cry, and stood for a few moments staring at him vacantly. Then, whispering quickly:
“Behind the curtain—the other room—papa must not see you!” she met Mrs. Walker, just as the latter, hearing a loud and peremptory ring, ran in from the next room.
“It’s my father,” said Lady Marion.
Mrs. Walker did not notice the girl’s tone of alarm. The honor of having an earl in her house, no matter what his errand might be, out-weighed every other thought in her mind. She had only time to draw one deep breath of gratification before the drawing-room door was opened and Lord St. Austell was announced.
He walked in with a firm step and dignified manner—“every inch a nobleman” was the description Mrs. Walker afterwards gave of him. With a curt bend to the lady, who came forward very ready to overflow with an effusive welcome, he asked shortly:
“My daughter is here, I believe, madam?”
“Yes, papa,” said a tremulous voice behind him.
He turned and saw Lady Marion standing near the door, with a very white face. Then, with only a glance at her, he again addressed the lady of the house.
“Can I have a few words with my daughter alone, madam?”