"And where was Sir Charles Fairfield?" queried little Mrs. Appleby, with unfortunate would-be slyness.
Madam Trevor's face changed suddenly, and Deborah colored.
"Sir Charles? Oh—with Debby, I believe," was Virginia's kindly, indifferent reply.
Thereupon St. Quentin, who had not been brought up in a cloister, looked approval at Miss Trevor, and adroitly changed the subject.
The meal coming to an end at length, the father immediately addressed Deborah on the subject of their visit:
"Miss Travis, my curiosity still burns. Will you take pity upon it and accompany me as soon as you can down to the ordinary?"
"I will come at once, if Madam Trevor permits," was the reply.
"Yes, get your hat and scarf, Deborah. In half an hour the coach will be here to drive us home. If the doctor will excuse your presence, you need not come back. We will stop for you on the way. You can wait in the sitting-room if Mistress Vawse is much occupied; for you would not, of course, go up-stairs."
Madam Trevor made the last remark in a tone that required no answer. Deborah merely courtesied and ran away for her hat; and, while the five ladies returned to the parlor, Dr. Carroll laid his hand on the priest's arm and said a few words to him in a low tone. St. Quentin raised his brows slightly, but gave no further sign of surprise. Then, as young Charles came loitering up, his father took possession of him, fearing that he might propose to accompany Deborah to the tavern. Five minutes later the priest and the young girl were on their way, Deborah with the warm phial, filled with her extract, pressing close over her steady heart.
St. Quentin spoke but once. "Dr. Carroll tells me that at his request you are to see this Frenchman," he observed, looking down at her; but he saw no sign of interest in her face as she answered, briefly: