Stephen inquired for Mrs. Brinsmade and Anne.
“They are well, sir, and took pleasure in adding to a little box which your mother sent. Judge Whipple put in a box of fine cigars, although he deplores the use of tobacco.”
“And the Judge, Mr. Brinsmade—how is he?”
The good gentleman's face fell.
“He is ailing, sir, it grieves me to say. He is in bed, sir. But he is ably looked after. Your mother desired to have him moved to her house, but he is difficult to stir from his ways, and he would not leave his little room. He is ably nursed. We have got old Nancy, Hester's mother, to stay with him at night, and Mrs. Brice divides the day with Miss Jinny Carvel, who comes in from Bellegarde every afternoon.”
“Miss Carvel?” exclaimed Stephen, wondering if he heard aright. And at the mention of her name he tingled.
“None other, sir,” answered Mr. Brinsmade. “She has been much honored for it. You may remember that the Judge was a close friend of her father's before the war. And—well, they quarrelled, sir. The Colonel went South, you know.”
“When—when was the Judge taken ill, Mr. Brinsmade?” Stephen asked. The thought of Virginia and his mother caring for him together was strangely sweet.
“Two days before I left, sir, Dr. Polk had warned him not to do so much. But the Doctor tells me that he can see no dangerous symptoms.”
Stephen inquired now of Mr. Brinsmade how long he was to be with them.