Uncovering her eyes, Mrs. Mynors fixed them reproachfully upon her daughter; and the girl, conscious of some unspoken reproach, felt guilty, though no misdeeds came to her mind.
"Virgie," said a hollow voice, as at last the silence was broken, "did Miriam Rosenberg, when you were in town, take you to any picture galleries?"
Virgie stood, the picture of astonishment.
"Why, yes, we went to the Academy," said she, wonderingly, "and—oh, yes—we went to Hertford House as well."
As she spoke the words, the memory of that day, that last day with Gerald, caused the rosy tint to steal up on her pale cheeks. The lynx eyes fixed upon her saw and misinterpreted.
"Did you meet a gentleman there?"
Still more mystified, Virginia shook her head.
"Virginia, think! A dark man, who walked lame."
The girl started—yes, her mother was not mistaken, she started quite visibly. "The lame man," she said. "Yes, of course, I remember."
Something like fury gleamed in the elder woman's blue eyes as she stood up, confronting her taller daughter. "He was Mr. Gaunt!" she flashed.