At length the steward entered the cabin, and she inquired what detained the gentlemen.
The man, forewarned not to alarm her, answered that neither Captain Yetsom nor Mr. Rosenthal had risen yet.
So Britomarte, amazed at their self-indulgence and unsuspicious of their true state, breakfasted alone, and then took in a cup of tea and a round of toast to Judith, whose fever was now gone, but who still kept her bed from the weakness of reaction.
Finding still that her companions did not appear, she became uneasy and went to seek the surgeon and inquire of him the true reason of their absence.
Dr. Brown informed her that they were both wounded, though not dangerously; and that he had ordered both of them to keep quiet for a day or two.
“My Brother Justin wounded! And I not know it until now! Oh, Dr. Brown, I must go to him at once!” she exclaimed, in excessive agitation.
“No, Miss Conyers, you must not—you of all persons.”
“But I will go! Who shall hinder me? And why should I not? Why shouldn’t I, who have attended so many wounded seamen who had no claims upon me but those of common humanity, go and wait on my own——” her voice broke down in tears.
—“Sweetheart?” said the doctor, archly, finishing her sentence in his own way.
“No, sir! my own soul’s brother!” flashed Britomarte.