"I have heard that Colonel Carvel wishes to rent his house at Glencoe,"
Mr. Brinsmade continued, "The figure is not high." He mentioned it. And
it was, indeed nominal. "It struck me that a change of air would do you
good, Mrs. Brice, and Stephen. Knowing that you shared in our uneasiness
concerning Judge Whipple, I thought--"

He stopped, and looked at her. It was a hard task even for that best and
roost tactful of gentlemen, Mr. Brinsmade. He too had misjudged this calm
woman.

"I understand you, Mr. Brinsmade," she said. She saw, as did Stephen, the
kindness behind the offer--Colonel Carvel's kindness and his own. The
gentleman's benevolent face brightened:

"And, my dear Madam, do not let the thought of this little house trouble
you. It was never my expectation to have it occupied in the summer. If we
could induce the Judge to go to Glencoe with you for the summer; I am
sure it would be a relief for us all."

He did not press the matter; but begged Stephen to call on him in a day
or two, at the bank.

"What do you think, Stephen," asked his mother, when Mr. Brinsmade was
gone, Stephen did not reply at once. What, indeed, could he say? The
vision of that proud figure of Miss Virginia was before him, and he
revolted. What was kindness from Colonel Carvel and Mr. Brinsmade was
charity from her. He could not bear the thought of living in a house
haunted by her. And yet why should he let his pride and his feelings
stand in the way of the health--perhaps of the life--of Judge Whipple?