“He’s leashed, you see, Angelique. And I’ll lock the poultry up, if you like,” observed Adrian. Anything to delay a little an interview from which he shrank with something very like that cowardice of which the girl had once accused him.
The housekeeper’s ready temper flamed, and she laid an ungentle touch upon the stranger’s shoulder.
“Go, boy. When Master Hugh commands, ’tis not for such as we to disobey.”
“All right. I’m going; and I’ll remember.”
At the inner doorway he turned and looked back. Margot was still sitting, thoughtful and motionless, the firelight from the great hearth making a Rembrandt-like silhouette of her slight figure against the outer darkness and touching her wonderful hair with a flood of silver. Reynard and the eagle, the wild foresters her love had tamed, stood guard on either side. It was a picture that appealed to Adrian’s artistic sense and he lingered a little, regarding its effects, even considering what pigments would best convey them.
HER PETS STOOD GUARD ON EITHER SIDE
“Adrian!”
“Yes, Angelique—yes.”
When the door shut behind him, Angelique touched her darling’s shining head, and the toil-stiffened fingers had for it almost a mother’s tenderness.