The young earl led the way from their pew to the vestry, Sir Harold at his side, and Mr. Atkins and Ryan behind them.
The bride, all blushes and smiles, was writing her name in the marriage register, when the young earl and his companions entered the small room. Rufus Black had just signed it, and was putting on his gloves. He gave a great start as he recognized Lord Towyn and Atkins, and stared beyond them with an unmistakable terror, as if he expected to behold the cynical sneering face and angry eyes of his father looming up behind the intruders.
“You here, my lord?” he faltered.
“Yes, Rufus,” said the young earl, holding out his hand. “We happened to be at Inverness and have been witnesses to your marriage. Permit us to congratulate you.”
Rufus drew a long breath of relief and shook the earl’s hand heartily.
“I thought—I thought—” he began, confused and hesitating—“I was afraid— But never mind. It’s odd your being up here, my lord. How do you do, Atkins? Lally,” and Rufus turned to his young wife, who was looking curiously at the new-comers, “here are some friends of mine, up from Kent. Lord Towyn, Lally, and Mr. Atkins of Canterbury.”
Lally blushed and acknowledged the introduction gracefully.
“Can we see you in the church a moment, Mr. Black?” asked Lord Towyn.
Rufus consented, with that look of fear again in his eyes. He apologized for a moment’s absence to his bride and her friends, who were now signing their names to the register, and accompanied his pursuers back into the church. His face brightened when he found that his father was not in waiting for him in the church.
“You have a pretty young bride, Rufus,” said the young earl pleasantly. “We have followed you up from Kent, with the idea that you were on your way to Miss Wynde. It was in this way we happened to be at your wedding. Is Mrs. Rufus Black a recent acquaintance?”