CHAPTER XXIII.
SYLVAN'S ORDERS.
While the amiable Mr. Fabian was engaged in soothing the woman whom he was resolved to make his instrument in gaining the whole of his father's great business bequeathed to him by will, carriage wheels were heard grating on the gravel of the drive leading up to the front door of the house, and a few minutes afterward the master's knock was answered by the hall waiter, and old Aaron Rockharrt strode into the drawing room.
"I did not know that you had gone out again. I left you on the library sofa asleep," said Rose, deferentially, as she sprang up to meet him.
"I was called out on business that don't concern you. Ah, Fabian! How is it that I find you here to-night?" inquired the Iron King, as he threw himself into a chair.
"I brought Cora home from the Banks," replied the eldest son.
"Ah! how is Mrs. Fabian?"
"Still delicate. I can scarcely hope that she will be stronger for some weeks yet."
"When are you going to bring her to call on my wife?" demanded the Iron King, bending his gray brows somewhat angrily and looking suspiciously on his son; for he was not pleased that his daughter-in-law's visit of ceremony had been so long delayed.
"As soon as she is able to leave the house. Our physician has forbidden her to take any long walk or ride for some time yet."