Mrs. Farnham lifted her handkerchief to her eyes; there was something very pathetic in the action, and the deep black border which was intended to impress the Judge with a sense of her combined martyrdom and widowhood.
"Well madam," said that gentleman, heartily weary of her airs, "I hope Fred has your consent to adopt this child. Remember the expense will be nothing compared to the great wealth which he inherits. My word for it, the young fellow will find much worse methods of spending his money if you thwart his generous impulses."
"I have nothing to say. It is my destiny to make sacrifices; of course, if my son chooses to incumber himself with a miserable thing like that, he need not ask his mother. Why should he, she is nobody now."
"Then you consent," said the Judge, impatiently, for he saw the anxious looks of the little girls and pitied their suspense.
Mrs. Farnham removed the handkerchief with its sable border from her eyes, and shook her head disconsolately.
"Yes, I consent. What else can I do—a poor heart-broken widow is of no account anywhere."
The Judge turned away rather abruptly.
"Well, now that it is settled let us go; the poor children are suffering a martyrdom of suspense. The Commissioner is on the other side; we can settle the whole thing at once."
"I fancy he'll wonder a little at your taste. But I wash my hands of it—this is your affair. I submit, that is a woman's destiny, especially a widow's."
Judge Sharp advanced toward the children.