Then she burst into hysterical laughter and hurried from the room, swiftly, through the folding-doors.
The Countess Peggy looked again at the portrait over the bureau, and slowly rose and crossed over to it. She studied it for some time in silence, holding the candle that stood underneath up above her head that she might see the better. She heard the door open and turned to see the original of the portrait within a few feet of her.
He paused, arrested by seeing her.
“I did not know that you were here,” he said quickly.
The Countess Peggy set the candle down, a little discomposed by his sudden appearance.
“I came to see your lady, Sir John.”
It seemed that his pallor deepened.
“She was here—you saw her?”
“Yes, Sir John.”
His blue eyes swept over her; she winced under it, a rare thing for her; she could not look at his proud, gloomy face; her own flushed a little; she shifted onto common ground.