But strange as the picture was, it could not have made any great impression on George Talboys, for he sat before it for about a quarter of an hour without uttering a wordonly staring blankly at the painted canvas, with the candlestick grasped in his strong right hand, and his left arm hanging loosely by his side. He sat so long in this attitude, that Robert turned round at last.
"Why, George, I thought you had gone to sleep!"
"You've caught a cold from standing in that damp tapestried room. Mark my words, George Talboys, you've caught a cold; you're as hoarse as a raven. But come along."
Robert Audley took the candle from his friend's hand, and crept back through the secret passage, followed by Georgevery quiet, but scarcely more quiet than usual.
They found Alicia in the nursery waiting for them.
"We managed it capitally. But I don't like the portrait; there's something odd about it."
"There is," said Alicia; "I've a strange fancy on that point. I think that sometimes a painter is in a manner inspired, and is able to see, through the normal expression of the face, another expression that is equally a part of it, though not to be perceived by common eyes. We have never seen my lady look as she does in that picture; but I think that she could look so."
"Alicia," said Robert Audley, imploringly, "don't be German!"
"Don't be German, Alicia, if you love me. The picture isthe picture: and my lady ismy lady. That's my way of taking things, and I'm not metaphysical; don't unsettle me."
He repeated this several times with an air of terror that was perfectly sincere; and then, having borrowed an umbrella in case of being overtaken by the coming storm, left the Court, leading passive George Talboys away with him. The one hand of the stupid clock had skipped to nine by the time they reached the archway; but before they could pass under its shadow they had to step aside to allow a carriage to dash past them. It was a fly from the village, but Lady Audley's fair face peeped out at the window. Dark as it was, she could see the two figures of the young men black against the dusk.
"Who is that?" she asked, putting out her head. "Is it the gardener?"
"No, my dear aunt," said Robert, laughing; "it is your most dutiful nephew."