Robert Audley took the candle from his friend's hand, and crept back
through the secret passage, followed by George--very quiet, but scarcely
more quiet than usual.

They found Alicia in the nursery waiting for them.

"Well?" she said, interrogatively.

"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!"

"But, Robert--"

"Don't be German, Alicia, if you love me. The picture is--the picture:
and my lady is--my 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