“I understood you to say, Captain Lane, that you had promised to keep your visit here a secret,” he said, breaking into the conversation of the others. “To whom did you make such a promise?”
“To Miss Thornton.” The question was unexpected, and the answer slipped out thoughtlessly; then Lane bit his lip as he caught Eleanor’s warning glance too late.
Brett turned swiftly on Eleanor. “Why did you wish him to keep his visit here a secret, Miss Thornton?”
“Because I was afraid Mrs. Winthrop would hear that Captain Lane and her niece had met here; my uncle might inadvertently mention it to her. Mrs. Winthrop does not approve of Captain Lane’s attentions to Miss Carew,” explained Eleanor quietly.
“On what grounds?”—quickly.
“Ask Mrs. Winthrop; she can tell you better than I.”
“I will,” grimly. “Captain Lane,” wheeling around, “why have you returned to this house at so early an hour in the morning?”
“I came to inquire for Miss Carew. I asked to see Miss Thornton, and the butler showed me into this room. And this is the first opportunity I have had, Miss Eleanor, to ask you how Cynthia is this morning.” His face betrayed his anxiety.
“She is asleep just now,” answered Eleanor, “but I hope she will be much better when she wakes up. I will tell her that you have called.”