"Of course," said Vincent, laughing; "she was the most trusting little thing you ever saw, primevally innocent in fact; it was quite refreshing. How's the wine, Grey?"

"Capital," answered his friend, refilling his gla.s.s and holding it up to the light with the gusto of a connoisseur. "Capital; but, Vincent, you are a wicked dog."

"Think so?" drawled Vincent quite proudly, surveying his handsome face in an opposite mirror.

"Yes," said Grey, "I am bad enough; but shoot me if I could be the first to lead a woman astray."

"You sneaking poltroon," laughed Vincent; "if you did not, somebody else would."

"That does not follow," answered Grey; "don't you believe that there are virtuous women?"

"Ha! ha! you ought to have your picture taken now," laughed Vincent.

"Propound that question, most innocent Joseph, at our next club-meeting, will you? The explosion of a basket of Champagne corks would be nothing to the fizz it would make. A virtuous woman! no woman, my dear boy, was ever virtuous but for lack of temptation and opportunity."

"I will never subscribe to that," said Grey, with a flushed cheek; "no--not as I honor my mother and my sister."

Vincent's only answer was a slight elevation of the eyebrow, as he pushed the bottle again toward Grey.

"No, thank you; no more for me," answered Grey, in disgust, as he left the room.

"Green yet," said Vincent, lighting a cigar. "I can remember when I was just such a simpleton. 'Virtuous women!' If women are virtuous, why do they give the cold shoulder to steady moral fellows, to smile on a reckless dog like me? I have always found women much more anxious to ascertain the state of a man's purse than the state of his morals. If I am an infidel on the subject of female virtue, women have only themselves to thank for it. I believed in it once."

CHAPTER XXI.

"She's down stairs, she's back again, the young woman and her baby. I knew you wouldn't like to hear it, ma'am."

"Go down stairs, and tell her I am not at home, Patty."

"I did tell her so, knowing your mind, ma'am; but she said I was mistaken, for that she saw you at the window."

"Say that I am sick, then, and can not be disturbed; and, Patty, tell the cook to see that her custards are ready for dessert; Mr. Finels dines here to-day."

Patty retired with her instructions, but presently returned in great haste.

"Bless us all, ma'am, the baby is taken in a fit in the entry, and is rolling up its eyes horrid! Shall I tell her to go away with it?"

"Yes!" said Mrs. Howe--"yes--no--how provoking! I don't believe it--I'll go down myself, Patty."

Throwing a large cashmere shawl over her robe-de-chambre, Mrs. Howe went reluctantly down stairs.

The baby did look "horrid," as Patty had said, and Rose stood over it wringing her hands.

"I don't see what you have come back for," grumbled Mrs. Howe, turning her back upon the convulsed baby.

"What shall I do? oh, tell me what to do for him!" said the young mother--"he will die! Charley will die!"

"All the better for him, if he should," said Mrs. Howe.

"Oh," said Rose, kneeling at her feet, "you have lost a little one, can not you pity me."

Even this touching appeal would have been powerless to move Mrs. Howe, had not the twitch of the bell-wire announced a visitor at the front door. Hastily running to Patty, she said, "Take that child up stairs and lay it on your bed. I am sure I don't know what to do with him; my nerves are all unstrung; take him away; I suppose he will come out of his fit before long."

Patty stooped to take Charley in her arms, but Rose antic.i.p.ated her, and carried the poor tortured child up into the attic. He came out of that fit only to go into another, and Rose, agonized beyond endurance, fell senseless across the bed.

"They are dying, both of 'em!" screamed Patty, bursting into Mrs. Howe's room again; "you will _have_ to attend to it now, ma'am, sure. I know _I_ can't stay by them."

"Go for the doctor, then," said Mrs. Howe, thinking this might be preferable to a coroner's inquest; "not _our_ doctor, but the one in the next street."

"Your doctor is the nearest, ma'am," suggested Patty.

"Do as I tell you!" said the frowning Mrs. Howe, going leisurely up stairs.

"Just see what a spot of work, ma'am," said the cook, who had run up to see what was the matter; "that child must be undressed, ma'am, and put into a warm bath."

"Let it alone," said Mrs. Howe; "the doctor will be here presently. How do you know it is the right thing to do with the child?"

"I am sure of it, ma'am, begging your pardon; my sister's child had just the like of those fits, and that was what we always did for him, but just as you please, ma'am--hadn't you better hold some smelling-salts to its mother's face? she's in a faint, like."

Patty arrived at length with the doctor, who puffed considerably at climbing so many stairs, and disconcerted Mrs. Howe still more by his keen survey of the barren attic, Mrs. Howe's expensive apparel, and the two patients before him.

Charley he p.r.o.nounced in a critical state, owing to the length of time he had lain in the fit; he then wrote a prescription, applied some remedies, and recommended perfect quiet, and attentive nursing.

"He can not be moved, then?" asked Rose, who had recovered sufficiently to know what was pa.s.sing.

"By no means," said the doctor, "is it your child?" he asked, looking with surprise at the girlish form before him.

Rose bowed her head.

"In fact," said the doctor, "I shouldn't think you were fit to go yourself, if that were your intention."

Mrs. Howe's face flushed, and she walked up and down the floor uneasily.

"How long before he will be able to be moved?" asked Rose.

"It is impossible to tell. I think he may have a run of fever. I can tell better to-morrow. Perhaps it would be better, on account of this window," suggested the doctor, as he pointed to the broken panes of gla.s.s, "to remove the child into another room. Don't you think so, madam?" he asked, turning to Mrs. Howe.

"Oh, of course, certainly," replied Mrs. Howe, "he ought to have every comfort the house affords."

Had the doctor known Mrs. Howe better, he would not have been deceived at the seeming Samaritanism of this sarcastic reply. Rose could only groan in anguish.

"It would be well to have those recipes attended to as soon as possible, madam," said the doctor, handing them to Mrs. Howe, "shall you take charge of my patient, madam?"

"Certainly," said Mrs. Howe, with another withering aside glance at Rose.

"Well, then, madam, if you will have the goodness to watch the child closely, until after he has taken his second powder--you see there are two of them, one to be taken as soon as it arrives, and the other three hours after. Should any thing unforeseen occur, you know my address,"