At this moment the door was thrown back, and Lord Osborne himself appeared. After paying his compliments, he paused a moment, and then observed,
"You must have a precious strong taste for pictures, Miss Watson, to like to remain in the gallery even when it is too dark to see. I suppose breathing the same air is pleasant to those who value the art."
"We have stayed longer than we intended, my lord," said Emma; "and I really feel much obliged to your sister for allowing me such a pleasure; but we expected her to join us."
"It's a mighty fine thing to have such a lot of fine pictures, with all the fine names tacked on to them. One or two I really like myself—there's one of some horses, by somebody, excellent—and a Dutch painting of dead game, which is so like you would really think them all alive. Did you notice it?"
"Not particularly—I do not care much for still life."
"Howard there knows all about them: he has the names and dates and all on the tip of his tongue. Don't you find it a deuced bore to listen to it?"
"On the contrary, I am much obliged to Mr. Howard for the information."
"Well I should be glad, for my part, of a piece of information: how the—I beg pardon—I mean how the wonder did I contrive to miss you as I was going down the straight path to the Parsonage."
"Because we did not come up the straight path, my lord."
"Well, on my honour, I just was surprised when I got there to hear you were gone—stole away in fact. 'Holloa! how can that be!' said I, 'I did not meet them—no indeed.' 'Did you not!' cried Mrs. Willis. 'Well deuce take it, that is extraordinary!'"