The remainder of the party were equally well arrayed, and it was truly a goodly company that gathered to welcome the Baron of Heathdale.
At precisely a quarter to eight a carriage was heard to arrive, and Lady Linton hastened to the hall to be the first to welcome her brother and his wife; but she started back, almost affrighted, as she beheld instead, William Heath, looking pale and thin, but bright and smiling, enter, leaning upon Rupert Hamilton’s arm, and followed by his wife and son.
“Where is my brother?” she inquired, after greeting them all most cordially.
Rupert smiled roguishly as he replied:
“They have achieved a flank movement upon you, Lady Linton; when they saw the house ablaze, they suspected a reception, and as a bride would naturally be somewhat sensitive about appearing before company in travel-stained garments, Sir William and Lady Heath drove to the side-entrance, and doubtless are now in their own rooms. I am commissioned to make their excuses, and to beg that you will send word when dinner will be served.”
Lady Linton at once dispatched a servant to tell his master that dinner had been ordered at nine o’clock, but it could be delayed if he desired.
Sir William returned answer not to make any change, that he and Lady Heath would be ready to meet their friends by half-past eight.
The time would have passed heavily after that, had it not been for Rupert, who was a general favorite, and soon had the whole company in the best possible humor with themselves and everybody else, and Lady Linton blessed him in her heart for his genial mirth, his exhaustless fund of anecdote and repartee.
She was very restless, however, and anxiously watched the clock upon the mantle, while it seemed as if half-past eight would never arrive.
All at once she saw Rupert dart from the side of Lillian, with whom he had been talking, toward the lower door of the drawing-room, and disappear in the hall.