There was a strange, yearning look in his eyes as he spoke. He might have been ashamed, too—there was indeed a change in Judge Bolitho.
"She's no worse," said Mary, coming down a few minutes later. "The nurse says she is sleeping peacefully. The doctor will be here in a little while now. He seems a very hard-hearted man, but he admires Paul greatly, and he's very clever."
During the meal both of them were silent. Each, of them had much food for thought, and there are times when words are vain.
"To think," said the judge, when they had finished their dinner, "that I should be here in this way, in my son's house, and that his mother—— Mary, bring me those papers, will you?"
A little later he was deeply immersed in the early history of the trial, noting each detail, fastening upon every weakness of the charge and the difficulties of defence. It seemed to him as though he were practising at the bar again, and he were preparing his case for the defence of the prisoner. But this time he had an interest never known to him before. It was for him to fight for the life of his own son.
Presently he heard the doctor's step on the stairs. He had been in the sick-room, and when he had finished his visit, Mary had led him to the room where her father was. Dr. White looked at the judge curiously. At each house he had called that afternoon there was but one subject of discussion. No one knew that Judge Bolitho was in Brunford; had they done so, excitement would have exceeded all bounds; but as it was, the confession which he had made had set the whole town talking.
"Will you tell me how my wife is?" asked the judge.
"Your wife?" queried the doctor.
"Yes, my wife. Will you tell me how she is?"
The doctor gave a significant glance at Mary, which the judge was not slow to interpret; but he made no sign. Now that he had made his confession and told the truth, he was the same proud man who, not long before, had been Member of Parliament for that town.