"At once! It was good of you to come so far just to say good-by; but you are always good to me, Yorke," and she laid her head on his shoulder. "This—this will make a difference to you, dearest?"
He did not affect not to understand her.
"Yes," he said, simply. "Two days ago there seemed little chance of my being the Duke of Rothbury. Now—but I hope and trust dear old Dolph will live to be a hundred."
"And I, and I!" she responded fervently. "I would rather have you as you are, Yorke; far, far rather."
"I'm afraid that this sad affair will delay our marriage, Eleanor," he said, and he said it as regretfully as he could.
"Yes," she whispered, her face still hidden on his shoulder—"Yes, it must, I suppose; but"—he could almost feel her blush—"but not for long?" she asked, nearly inaudibly.
"I don't know," he stammered. "I—we shall see. I must find Dolph. He was in Switzerland, but I think it is very likely that he has moved down south with the cooler weather. He will be cut up. He liked poor Eustace better than any of us did. I must go now, dear," he said, presently.
"So soon?"
"Yes, I am afraid so. Is there anything you want me to do—anything I can tell Dolph?"
She shook her head.