The young man, her lover in her youth, the old servant who in
those days was perpetually about her--the two who had so often met in
familiar if not friendly relations, now to face each other as judge and
accused! She could not tell how much Mr. Corbet had conjectured from the
partial revelation she had made to him of the impending shame that hung
over her and hers. A day or two ago she could have remembered the exact
words she had used in that memorable interview; but now, strive as she
would, she could only recall facts, not words. After all, the Mr.
Justice Corbet might not be Ralph. There was one chance in a hundred
against the identity of the two.
While she was weighing probabilities in her sick dizzy mind, she heard
soft steps outside her bolted door, and low voices whispering. It was
the bedtime of happy people with hearts at ease. Some of the footsteps
passed lightly on; but there was a gentle rap at Ellinor's door. She
pressed her two hot hands hard against her temples for an instant before
she went to open the door. There stood Mrs. Forbes in her handsome
evening dress, holding a lighted lamp in her hand.
"May I come in, my dear?" she asked. Ellinor's stiff dry lips refused to
utter the words of assent which indeed did not come readily from her
heart.
"I am so grieved at this sad news which the canon brings.
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