"Sir Charles is not in the house," replied the doctor, with a quick glance at Virginia, whose face was perfectly passive.
"Not in the house! Why—what has happened?"
"Oh, very little, I fancy. Last night, as we came up Church Street, I saw him with Rockwell at the door of the 'Three Blue Balls.' He was probably about to celebrate his happiness. Young men, you know."
Vincent's face grew dark. "Pretty ways for Rockwell," he muttered; and St. Quentin, whose eye was upon him, nodded slightly.
Lucy took sudden heart, but was wise enough not to look up till her mother, much displeased, rose from the table, and so ended the meal.
"Mistress Lettice, we will not trespass longer on your hospitality, for which we are vastly indebted. I have ordered the coach for eleven. You, Vincent, at least, will ride with us?"
Her son bowed courteously, and presently disappeared into the doctor's study, where he took the liberty of making use of his host's desk for a few moments. Upon finishing his note he carried it out to the deserted dining-room, where Jeremiah was clearing the table.
"Jerry, can you do an errand for me this morning—no, at once?"
"Fo' shuah, Mist' Trev', if Doc' Ca'l 'll let me go."
"I'll explain that I sent you off. Here's a note to be taken round to the cottage that Mr. John Whitney lives in. He's a Puritan parson. His house is just on the other side of the Gloucester Street bridge. Give him this note, Jerry, and here's a shilling for some extra tobacco, if you get it to him by eleven o'clock. Understand?"