Declining to bandy further words with him until she should have seen the surgeon, Miss Blake was hastening on, when the fringe of her mantle caught against his medicine basket. It reminded her that some one must be ill. Battling for a moment with her curiosity, but not for long, she condescended to inquire who was ill at the Maze.
"It be the missis," replied Cris.
"The mistress! Do you mean Mrs. Grey?"
Mr. Lumley nodded.
"What is the matter with her?"
"Got a baby," said the boy shortly.
For the instant Miss Blake felt struck into herself, and was dumb. She did not believe it.
"He were born yesterday," added the boy. "This be some physic for him: and this be the missis's."
Throwing back the lid of one end of his basket, Miss Blake saw two bottles, done up in white paper. The larger one was addressed "Mrs. Grey," the small one "Mrs. Grey's infant."
She turned away without another word, feeling ready to sink with the weight of the world's iniquity. It pressed upon her most unpleasantly throughout the evening service at St. Jerome's, and for once Miss Blake was inattentive to the exhortations of the Rev. Guy. Looking at the matter as Miss Blake looked at it, it must be confessed that she had just cause for condemnation.