The door softly opened, and a clerk came in. It was Kenneth. "Are you at home, sir?"
Mr. Fauntleroy glanced up from the parchment he was bending over—a yellow-looking deed, and his brow looked forth displeasure. "I told you I did not care to be interrupted this morning, Kenneth, unless it was for anything very particular. Who is it?"
"A lady, sir. 'Mrs. Carr' was the name she gave in."
"Carr—Carr?" debated Mr. Fauntleroy, unable to recal any lady of the name amidst his acquaintance. "No. I have no leisure for ladies to-day."
Kenneth hesitated. "It's not likely to be the Mrs. Carr in Carr v. Carr; the lady you have had some correspondence with, is it, sir?" he waited to ask. "She is a stranger, and is dressed as a widow."
"The Mrs. Carr in Carr v. Carr!" repeated Mr. Fauntleroy. "By Jupiter, I shouldn't wonder if she's come to Westerbury! But I thought she was in Holland. Show her in."
Mr. Kenneth retired, and came back with the visitor. It was Mrs. Carr. Mr. Fauntleroy pushed aside the deed before him, and rose to salute her, wondering at her extreme youth. She spoke English fluently, but with a foreign accent, and she entered at once upon the matter which had brought her to Westerbury.
"A circumstance has occurred to renew the old anxiety about this cause," she said to Mr. Fauntleroy. "Should we lose it, I shall lose all I have at present to look forward to, for our affairs in Holland are more complicated than ever. It may turn out, Mr. Fauntleroy, that my share of this inheritance will be all I and my little children will have to depend upon in the world."
"But the cause is safe," returned Mr. Fauntleroy. "The paper you found and forwarded to me last October—or stay, November, wasn't it——"
"Would you be so kind as let me see that paper?" she interrupted.