Fully satisfied of the cause of her summons to Lincoln's Inn, Mrs. Wilders presented herself punctually at twelve. Although she still schooled her face to sorrowful commiseration with the old peer whom fate had so sorely stricken, the elation she felt was manifest in her proud, arrogant carriage, and the triumphant glitter of her bold brown eyes.
Lord Essendine was with the senior partner, Mr. Burt, when she was shown in; and although he arose stiffly, but courteously, from his seat, did not take her outstretched hand, while his greeting was cold and formal in the extreme.
There was a long pause, and, as neither of the gentlemen spoke, Mrs. Wilders began.
"You sent for me, my lord—"
His lordship waved his hand toward Mr. Burt, as though she must address herself to the old lawyer.
"Mrs. Wilders," said Mr. Burt, gravely and with great deliberation—"Mrs. Wilders, if that indeed be your correct appellation—"
And the doubt thus implied, reviving her worst fears, sent a cold shock to her heart.
But she was outwardly brave.
"How dare you!" she cried with indignant defiance in her tone. "Have you only brought me here to insult me? I appeal to your lordship. Is this the treatment I am to expect? I, your cousin's widow—"
"One moment, madam," interposed the lawyer. "To be a widow it is first necessary to have been a wife."