The oil lamp left burning on the hall table showed him to be a gentlemanly looking young man dressed in riding breeches and a blue coat and with a drab benjamin over all. He had his hat on his head, but after the first few seconds’ astonished immobility he pulled this off and bowed, stammering, “I beg a thousand pardons! I did not know! I had no notion—Forgive, I beg!”
He spoke with the faintest trace of a foreign accent. The removal of his hat showed him to be dark-eyed and dark-haired. He looked, at the moment, to be extremely discomfited, but his air and manner were both good and the cast of his countenance spoke a reassuring degree of refinement. Elinor, feeling all the awkwardness of her own situation, blushed and replied, “I fear you must have come, sir, to see one who is no longer here. I do not know how it is that the servant should leave you standing in the hall. Indeed, I did not hear the doorbell ring, and had supposed Barrow to have gone to bed.” As she spoke, her eyes alighted on the tall-case clock and she perceived with a start that the time wanted but ten minutes to midnight. She turned her amazed gaze upon the unknown visitor.
He appeared to be fully conscious of the need for an explanation but in doubt as to how best to make it. After some hesitation he said, “I did not ring, madame. It is so late! Mr. Cheviot and I are friends of such long standing that I have been in the habit of walking into the house without announcement. In effect, knowing that the good Barrow must be in bed, I came in by a side door. But I did not know—I had not the least notion—”
“Came in by a side door!” she repeated in a blank tone.
His embarrassment increased. “I have been upon such terms with Mr. Cheviot, madame—and seeing a light burning in one of the parlors I made so bold—But had I known—You must understand that I am staying with friends in the neighborhood, and I had hoped—indeed, I had expected to have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Cheviot at—at a little soiree this evening. He did not come, and so, fearing he might be perhaps indisposed, and not desiring to leave the neighborhood without seeing him—in short, madame, I rode over. But you said, I think, that he is not here?”
“Mr. Cheviot met with—with a fatal accident last night, sir and I regret to be obliged to inform you that he is dead,” said Elinor.
He looked thunderstruck, and almost incredulous. “Dead!” he ejaculated.
She bowed her head. There was silence for a moment. He broke it, saying in a voice which he strove to render calm, “If you please, how is this? I am very much shocked. I can scarcely believe it can be possible I”
“It is very true, however. Mr. Cheviot fell into a dispute at an inn last night and was accidentally killed.”
A flash of anger kindled his dark eyes. He exclaimed, “Oh, sapristi! He was drunk, in effect! The fool!”