"The chariot's at the door and the light still in the parlour!" she whispered; "sure, he can't be there still? Heaven send he be not drunk and asleep. 'Twas mere folly to leave the wine!"
Not a sound. They approached as it were on tiptoe up the stair, and softly opened the door.
My Lord Duke, attended by Armitage, stood before them, splendid in his dark red velvet laced with silver, the blue ribbon crossing his breast. He held Elizabeth by the hand, she pale as ashes but perfectly composed.
Mrs Gunning gave a fine dramatic start, Maria advancing behind her, devoured with curiosity.
"What--what can this mean? Little did I expect to find your Grace here at this hour. Elizabeth, I fear you have been vastly imprudent. Your good name--" She might have said more but the Duke came forward, very magnificent.
"Madam, permit me to introduce a stranger," says he, with emphasis on the word, "Her Grace the Duchess of Hamilton."
"Lord! Then 'tis to be!" cries Mrs Gunning, all radiant, and mistaking his meaning. "O my sweet child, my Elizabeth--how have you took me by surprise! When shall it be, your Grace?"
"Madam, it is done. Miss Gunning became my bride in the Mayfair Chapel--was it twenty minutes since, Armitage?"
"Fifteen, your Grace."
"'Twas all in order--a clergyman?--'twas legal?" pants Mrs Gunning, her hand to her heart.