Mrs. Judson’s face became a shade less haughty, and she said with less anger in her voice,—
“Still there must be a mistake. I never saw you before.”
“True enough, lady; but I think you will be glad to see me now. I’ve got something for you from that poor young creature that you’ve been trying to hear about.”
Jane drew close to Mrs. Judson and said this in a voice so depressed, that Ellen could not gather its meaning. But Mrs. Judson understood her at once. The color left her face, she cast a sharp glance at Ellen and bade her go down-stairs and see that all the blinds were closed, then moving toward one of the chamber-doors, she opened it and made a gesture that Jane should follow. The girl obeyed and closed the door after her, while Mrs. Judson seated herself stiffly, as if she had been in a church.
“You can sit down,” she said, with unusual condescension. Jane did not heed the invitation, but drew close to Mrs. Judson and took the velvet-bound volume from under her shawl.
“Does this belong to you, madam?”
Mrs. Judson restrained an impulse to snatch the book, and reached forth her hand steadily. She examined the clasp, the title-page, and the words in her own writing before she looked up or spoke. At last she laid the book in her lap, and lifted her eyes to the girl.
“Where did you get this?”
“That is my affair, lady. How much is it worth to the young lady’s friends, is the question just now.”
“That is, you wish to sell it,” said Mrs. Judson.