"Alicia," said Robert Audley, imploringly, "don't be German!"
"But, Robert—"
"Don't be German, Alicia, if you love me. The picture is—the picture: and my lady is—my lady. That's my way of taking things, and I'm not metaphysical; don't unsettle me."
He repeated this several times with an air of terror that was perfectly sincere; and then, having borrowed an umbrella in case of being overtaken by the coming storm, left the Court, leading passive George Talboys away with him. The one hand of the stupid clock had skipped to nine by the time they reached the archway; but before they could pass under its shadow they had to step aside to allow a carriage to dash past them. It was a fly from the village, but Lady Audley's fair face peeped out at the window. Dark as it was, she could see the two figures of the young men black against the dusk.
"Who is that?" she asked, putting out her head. "Is it the gardener?"
"No, my dear aunt," said Robert, laughing; "it is your most dutiful nephew."
He and George stopped by the archway while the fly drew up at the door, and the surprised servants came out to welcome their master and mistress.
"I think the storm will hold off to-night," said the baronet looking up at the sky; "but we shall certainly have it tomorrow."