His own heart and brain were wild with grief and alarm as he hastened to the presence of his master, whom he did not doubt would now, in this extremity, permit him to go to the city.
Mr. Waring, in an irritable frame of mind, was walking up and down the front piazza, as Valentine stepped upon the floor.
"Well, what now?" he exclaimed, testily, at the sight of the young man's agitated countenance.
"My wife, sir; she has got the fever."
"Sorry to hear it, but—how did you hear it, sir? I hope no one from that place has had the temerity to set foot upon these premises, in face of the prohibition?"
"No, sir; I happened to meet with Governor, Major Hewitt's man, and he had seen an acquaintance of ours from the city, who came from Fannie's house this morning and brought the news."
"I wonder Major Hewitt does not take better care of his own interests than to permit stragglers from the city to infest his place. He will bring the pestilence among us before we know where we are," said Mr. Waring, angrily.
"But, Fannie, sir—my poor wife——"
"Well, what of her? I am sorry, of course—really sorry, Valentine. It is a pity you ever got married; if you had not, neither you nor Fannie would have had so much trouble. It was a very foolish piece of business!"
"Perhaps it was, sir; but people who love each other have a sort of propensity to get married. It can't be helped, I suppose; it's a way they've got."