Carlyon shook his head and went out of the room. Downstairs he found Elinor-seated by the fire in the parlor, and his brother John Carlyon standing in the middle of the room and staring at her in perplexity. He turned as he heard the door open, and said quickly, “Ned! For God’s sake, what is this farrago of nonsense? I am met by that fool Hitchin, who tells me I shall find Cheviot’s betrothed in the parlor, and now this lady informs me that she is married to him!”
“Yes, that is quite true,” Carlyon replied, “My brother John, Mrs. Cheviot. I am glad you are here, John. You are the very man I need.”
“Ned!” said Mr. Carlyon explosively. “What the devil have you been about?”
“Just what you knew I meant to be about. Did Nicky tell you what had chanced?”
“Yes, Nicky did tell me!” John said grimly. “Very pretty tidings, upon my word! But he did not tell me the whole!”
“No, for he did not know it. I have been fortunate in finding a lady willing to marry Eustace, and I stand very much in her debt.” He smiled slightly at Elinor as he spoke, and added, “Miss Rochdale—or, rather, Mrs. Cheviot—you are very tired, and must be anxious to retire. It has been a fatiguing day for you.”
“Yes,” agreed Elinor, regarding him with a fascinated eye. “It—it has been just a little fatiguing!”
“Well, I am going to put you in my brother’s charge. He will take care of you, and drive you to my home. John, how came you here?”
“I rode.”
“Very well. Leave your horse for me, and take Mrs. Cheviot in my curricle. Tell Mrs. Rugby to see her comfortably bestowed, and be sure that she has some refreshment before she retires.”