"Because her back was hurt when she was quite a baby. She was thrown out of a motor-car, and has always been ill."
"You'd better not let our baby go in the car, mummy," cried the little brother promptly; and Gaunt felt a movement of affection for the child whose feeling spoke so readily.
They moved across the grass towards the house, and suddenly Joey gave a pleased exclamation. "Here comes Percy!" said she brightly.
Ferris was advancing, accompanied by a young man who, though he wore a country suit, had the air of London about his hat and his boots. He was a distinguished-looking, tall fellow, and Gaunt, as he set Bill upon his feet upon the grass, knew that he had seen him before. As the stranger drew near their eyes met, and the same look of half-recognition appeared in both faces.
Ferris's cordial welcome to Gaunt was somewhat flamboyant. He wrung his hand a little too often and too vehemently. Then he introduced his friend, Mr. Rosenberg. That cleared up the mystery, as far as Gaunt was concerned. Instantly he saw the gallery flooded with summer sunshine, the glimmering floors, the mellow canvases, the figure of the beautiful girl, bending over the inscription at the foot of the marble cupid.
To Gerald Rosenberg memory had come without difficulty. The occasion when he first set eyes on Gaunt was a critical moment in his life—how critical he hardly knew at the time. The same picture was stamped upon his own brain: the picture of Virginia beginning to descend the staircase, and of his own turning of the head with a consciousness of being watched—of meeting face to face a pair of eyes, ironic, intent, challenging.
"This is our neighbour, Gaunt of Omberleigh," Ferris was jovially proclaiming. "Luckiest man in the county; just married the most lovely girl I ever saw in my life."
Gaunt! That was the name of Virginia's husband! She had said that her future home would be Derbyshire! Was this—this man—her husband? He grew quite pale.
"Was it you," he stammered, "you who married Miss Mynors?"
Gaunt assented. The eyes of the two men once more met. "I saw you," slowly said Rosenberg, "at Hertford House, when I went there to meet my sister and her friend. You were in the Gallery."