“Pardon me,” was all he said as he adjusted the garment about her slight form. “I fear that you will be cold; for even at this season the night air is chilly.”
Violet felt a thrill of gratitude for the man’s kindness.
“You are very good, Mr. Dunbar,” she returned, gratefully. “I can never thank you enough for all your kindness to me. What, in Heaven’s name, would have become of me but for you? But—where are you taking me?” she added, after a slight pause.
“To my own house,” he returned. “Ah! you did not know that I am a staid married man, with the best of wives and the sweetest of baby girls? Yes, I am a sober, settled Benedict, Miss Arleigh, and my wife will be more than pleased to receive you. Besides—you are going to meet Doctor Danton there.”
“I shall be very glad,” murmured Violet, faintly, her head drooping among the cushions of the carriage.
To tell the truth, the poor girl was beginning to feel the effects of her long fast; for she had not eaten anything since dinner at Yorke Towers, the evening before.
Dunbar understood the case at once.
“Try and keep up, Miss Arleigh,” he said, encouragingly. “We will soon be at my house, and there you will get refreshment. See! this is the street, and there is the house at last.”
For the carriage had stopped before a neat white cottage in whose windows a bright light burned cheerfully.
Dunbar alighted from the carriage and took Violet in his arms.