id faintly.

"Oh, yes, never fear: I'll send up word, though I don't believe he'll
come to you before breakfast."

He told a page, who ran upstairs, and, knocking at the judge's door, said
that a Miss Jenkins wanted to speak to him.

"Who?" asked the judge from the inside.

"Miss Jenkins. She said you would know the name, sir."

"Not I. Tell her to wait."

So Ellinor waited. Presently down the stairs, with slow deliberate
dignity, came the handsome Lady Corbet, in her rustling silks and ample
petticoats, carrying her fine boy, and followed by her majestic nurse.
She was ill-pleased that any one should come and take up her husband's
time when he was at home, and supposed to be enjoying domestic leisure;
and her imperious, inconsiderate nature did not prompt her to any
civility towards the gentle creature sitting down, weary and heart-sick,
in her house. On the contrary, she looked her over as she slowly
descended, till Ellinor shrank abashed from the steady gaze of the large
black eyes. Then she, her baby and nurse, disappeared into the large
dining-room, into which all the preparations for breakfast had been
carried.

The next person to come down would be the judge. Ellinor instinctively
put down her veil. She heard his quick decided step; she had known it
well of old.

He gave one of his sharp, shrewd glances at the person sitting in the
hall and waiting to speak to him, and his practised eye recognised the
lady at once, in spite of her travel-worn dress.

"Will you just come into this room?" said he, opening the door of his
study, to the front of the house: the dining-room was to the back; they
communicated by folding-doors.

The astute lawyer placed himself with his back to the window; it was the
natural position of the master of the apartment; but it also gave him the
advantage of seeing his companion's face in full light. Ellinor lifted
her veil; it had only been a dislike to a recognition in the hall which
had made her put it down.

Judge Corbet's countenance changed more than hers; she had been prepared
for the interview; he was not. But he usually had the full command of
the expression on his face.

"Ellinor! Miss Wilkins! is it you?" And he went forwards, holding out
his hand with cordial greeting, under which the embarrassment, if he felt
any, was carefully concealed. She could not speak all at once in the way
she wished.

"That stupid Henry told me 'Jenkins!' I beg your pardon.