"Dismiss the servant, my dear," said the judge, as he took his seat as near to his daughter as the conveniences of the table would allow.
"You may retire, James. I will ring if you are wanted."
The man bowed and went out. The father and daughter looked up; their eyes met and filled with tears.
"Oh, my child, how much we have to say to each other!" sighed the judge.
"Yes, but, dear papa, drink your coffee first. You really look as though you needed it very much," replied Claudia affectionately.
The judge complied with her advice; though, if the truth must be told, he ate and drank indiscreetly fast in order to get through soon and be at liberty to talk to his daughter. When he arose from the table Claudia rang the bell for the service to be removed, and then led the way again to my lady's little drawing room.
It was deserted. Lady Hurstmonceux had evidently left it that the father and daughter might converse with each other unembarrassed by the presence of a third person.
"My dear," said the judge, as he seated himself on the sofa beside his daughter, wound his arm around her shoulders, and looked wistfully into her face, "do you know that I am surprised to see you looking so well? You must possess a great deal of fortitude, Claudia, to have passed through so much trouble as you have and show so few signs of suffering as you do."
"Ah, papa! if you had arrived a few days ago and seen me then, you would have had good cause to say I looked well. But, for the last week, the intense anxiety I have felt on your account has worn me considerably."
"My poor girl! Yes, I know how that must have been. The news of the shipwreck arrived long before we reached England, and everyone must have given us up for lost."