On the following morning Judith went abroad to make certain purchases for her mistress, and in passing along Piccadilly she encountered Stephen Grey—now Dr. Grey, as you have heard. The two stopped, mutually surprised and delighted: it is so pleasant to meet an old face from one's native place, no matter what the social degree.
“Why, Judith,” he exclaimed, “is it you or your ghost? What wind blew you to town?”
He put out his hand to shake hands with her: he was the same Stephen Grey as ever, free and cordial. Judith's face glowed with pleasure: if there was one person in all South Wennock who believed in Mr. Stephen Grey's innocence, and that he was an ill-used man, it was Judith Ford.
“Lady Jane was telegraphed for yesterday, sir,” she explained. “The earl was dying. We got to London in the afternoon, and he died a few minutes past eleven at night.”
“I heard of his death this morning. Gout, I suppose?”
“Gout in the stomach, I believe, sir,” replied Judith. “But he suffered as good as nothing yesterday, sir, and died peacefully as a child.”
“He would not suffer much towards the last,” remarked the doctor. “And the young earl is a strapping shaver of four days old! Death and birth, Judith; the one comes to replace the other.”
“It's in the course of nature that it should, sir. But as to the baby being strapping, I don't know about that, for I have not seen him. It's born healthy and straight, the servants say, and that's the chief thing. Lady Laura is up also,” added Judith: “but she did not get there in time to see her father alive.”
“How was that—if Lady Jane could do it?”
“Lady Laura was out, visiting at Pembury. My lady sent a note to her, thinking she was at home, and we called for her in the fly as we were going to the station. Mr. Carlton came out to Lady Jane; I don't fancy she much liked meeting him; she has never once met him face to face, sir, until yesterday, since the marriage.”
“How is Carlton getting on?” asked the doctor. “Well, I hear.”
“Very well, I believe,” answered Judith, “But Mr. Grey and his partner, Mr. Lycett, have as much as ever they can do. There's plenty of practice for all, sir.”
“I always said there was,” replied the doctor. “Do Carlton and Frederick fall out still?” And he laughed as he asked the question.
“Not that I hear of, sir. I fancy they keep apart, for there's no love lost between them. He gets so good-looking, does Master Frederick; the last time I saw him he said he should soon be leaving for London.”
“Very soon now. But we thought it better he should remain for a time at South Wennock, where he gets more of the drudgery of the profession than he would with me.”
“And, sir, if I may make bold to ask it, how are you prospering?”
“Famously, Judith. Short as the time is that I have been here, I am making a great deal more than I did at South Wennock. So if your friend, Carlton, thought to ruin me by driving me away, he has not succeeded in his wish.”
The doctor spoke in a light, pleasant tone. He cherished enmity to none, not even Mr. Carlton; to do so was not in his nature. But Judith resented the words.
“Mr. Carlton is no friend of mine, sir; I don't like him well enough. When shall you be paying a visit to South Wennock, Mr. Stephen?”
“My goodness, Judith! The idea of your calling me ‘Mr. Stephen!’” returned the jesting doctor. “I'm a great man now, and shall enter an action against you for defamation of title. Don't you know I am the famed Dr. Grey?”
Judith smiled. His merriment was contagious.
“But when shall you be coming, sir?”
“Perhaps never,” he replied, a shade of seriousness arising to his face. “South Wennock did not treat me so well that I should wish to see it speedily. Should the mystery ever be cleared up about that poisoned draught—and, mark you, Judith, when it is cleared up, it will be found that I was innocent—then I may visit it again.”
Judith fell into momentary thought, wondering whether the mystery ever would be cleared up. She hoped it would be sometime; and yet—she dreaded that that time should come.
“You will call upon us, won't you, Judith, now you are in town? Mrs. Stephen Grey will be glad to see an old face.”
“Thank you sir,” replied Judith, much gratified at the invitation. “I shall be glad to pay my duty to Mrs. Grey. Does London agree with her, sir?”
“I am afraid it does not, Judith, very well. But neither did South Wennock. She is always delicate you know, let her be where she will. Ah, Judith, if we could but find some Utopia of a spot in this lower world, warranted to give health to all invalids, what a thing it would be! As great a boon as the