Carlyon nodded. “As you please. Snuff the candles if you are coming to bed—I told the servants they need not sit up longer.”
“I have a letter I must finish first. Good night, old fellow!”
“Good night.” Carlyon picked up the branch of candles that stood on one of the tables and went to the door.
John had seated himself at the desk again, but he looked round. “I don’t know why I should be surprised at Nicky’s wild ways, after all!” he remarked. “I still have the scars of those shots in my leg!”
Carlyon laughed and went out, closing the door behind him. John stayed looking after him for a moment, a half smile on his lips, then he sighed, shook his head, and turned back to his correspondence.
Mrs. Cheviot slept late into the morning, being, awakened at last by a maidservant who brought her a cup of chocolate arid the information that breakfast would be served in the parlor at the foot of the stairs. She placed a brass can of hot water on the washstand, and after ascertaining that madam required no assistance at her toilet, withdrew again.
Elinor sat up in bed, luxuriously sipping her chocolate and wondering how many of the fantastic events of the previous day had had existence only in her imagination. Her presence in this well-ordered household seemed to indicate that at least some of them had been real. She was unable to refrain from contrasting her present situation with what would have in all probability been her lot in Mrs. Macclesfield’s house, and she would have been more than human had she not enjoyed the very striking difference. She got up presently and looked out of the window. It commanded a view of some formal gardens, just now showing only some snowdrops in flower, and beyond these the outskirts of a park. Lord Carlyon was evidently a man of consequence and fortune, and nothing, she reflected, could be more unlike the squalor of his cousin’s house than the quiet elegance of his own establishment.
She dressed herself in one of her sober-hued round gowns, and putting a Paisley shawl over her shoulders, betook herself downstairs. While she hesitated in the hall, not quite knowing where she should go, the butler came through a door at the back of the house, bowed civilly to her, and ushered her into a snug parlor, where her host and his two brothers were awaiting her before a bright fire.
Carlyon came forward at once to take her hand. “Good morning. I trust you are rested, ma’am?”
“Yes, indeed, thank you. I do not think I can have stirred the whole night through.” She smiled, and bowed to the other two men. “I fear I have kept you waiting.”