With a sudden, hateful impulse, she muttered:
“An unlawful child, hey. A fit wife, truly, for Lawrence Thornton.”
The words caught Judge Howell’s ear, and springing like lightning across the floor, he exclaimed:
“Now, by the Lord, Geraldine Veille, if you hint such a thing again, I’ll shake you into shoe-strings,” and, by way of demonstration, he seized the guilty woman’s shoulder and shook her lustily. “Mildred had as good a right to be born as you, for Dick was married to Hetty. I always knew that,” and he tottered back to the sofa, just as Edith, frightened at finding herself in a strange place, began to cry.
Stepping into the hall for a moment, Richard soon returned, bringing her in his arms, and advancing toward the Judge, he said:
“I’ve brought you another grandchild, father,—one born of an English mother. Is there room in your heart for little Edith?”
The eyes, which looked wonderingly at the Judge, were very much like Mildred’s, and they touched a chord at once.
“Yes, Dick, there’s room for Edith,” returned the Judge; “not because of that English mother, for I don’t believe in marrying twice, but because she’s like Gipsy,” and he offered to take the little girl, who, not quite certain whether she liked her new grandpa or not, clung closer to her father, and began to cry for “Sister Milly.”
“Here, Edith, come to me,” said Oliver, and taking her back into the hall, he whispered: “Mildred is upstairs; go and find her.”
The upper hall was lighted, and following Oliver’s directions, Edith ascended the stairs, while her father, thus relieved of her, began to make some explanations, having first greeted Mr. Thornton, whom he remembered well.