But she did not come. A servant ushered him in, and, after a moment’s delay, conducted him to the judge’s library.
The room was vacant when he entered, and he had an opportunity to look about him, to recall the familiar objects, the rich old bindings, and the glow of the ancient bronzes. The fireplace was not empty to-night; a large porcelain jar stood inside the fender, filled with a profusion of blossoms, their pink and white sprayed delicately against the dark chimney-place, and their fragrance, subtle and sweet, pervading the room. The old reading-lamp was burning on the table, and the judge’s big shell-rimmed spectacles lay on the open pages of the “Eumenides.”
Overton stood still, keenly moved by a rush of recollections. He might have left the room yesterday, it was so unchanged; yet, between his last sight of it and now, the whole world had changed to him. The interval had been filled to the brim with suffering and emotion; the gap was not even bridged. On one side of it stood Diane; on the other he found himself condemned to wait in the uncertain ground, no longer possessing a right to cross over and resume his old place at the fireside.
Presently he heard a heavy step outside, and the judge opened the door. He seemed to Overton much changed. His face was grim; his gray hair showed more white. His eyes, however, retained their intense warmth—the inner flame which at a word might flash up into a conflagration. He held out his hand with a grim smile.
“It’s good to see you again, Simon Overton,” he said in his deep voice; “and it’s good of you to come here. We must seem to you to be part and parcel with—with the coward who left you to die!”
“You’re one of the best friends I ever had, Judge Herford, and one of the very best my mother left to me. I’ve been looking about this room and feeling—well, like a boy who’s been long from home. I’m glad indeed to be here again.”
The judge motioned to an old armchair opposite his own.
“Sit down—I’m glad you’ve come. There’s nothing else clear in my mind except the shock I’ve had. I believed in Faunce! It’s about used me up to think I’ve married my girl to—to a craven like that!”
He sat down as he spoke, and fell into an attitude of dejection so new to him that he seemed another and an older man. Overton, taking the seat opposite, hesitated. It was difficult to frame what he had to say. Meanwhile, the judge broke out again with great bitterness:
“The shame of it! I’d rather take a whipping than have Diane exposed to all this talk!”