But when she opened the door at his ringing, impatient knock, she took
a step back in astonishment, and it was only with difficulty that she
preserved a veneer of resignation and indifference.
She saw before her Mary's face. It was broader, and infinitely
masculine---framed in strong and curling black hair, the green eyes
fierce beneath scowling brows. But it was the same green, the hair the
same shimmering black. Identical too was the fair, unmarked
complexion, the smooth and finely chiseled nose and chin. Something in
the shape was dissimilar, yet still.....
She could not at first read the riddle, until with an arrogance that
could never have come from her niece, he threw back the door and
advanced upon her, driving her back into the passage.
"So, my good widow Scott. You recognize the son of your esteemed
overlord, and perhaps were expecting him as well?"
"No, truly sir. I don't know what you mean." It was not necessary to
feign surprise. She could not imagine what the son of the Lord
Purceville could want of her.
"I don't have time for games!" he shouted, pushing past her and
searching the adjacent rooms before returning to stand before her.
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