Mary went to find her mother; she was in her chamber, dressing.
"My dear child, how late you are!"
"There's plenty of time, mamma. We stayed at the parsonage. Anna Gurney was there. Henry says he is not very well."
"He says that always when William disappoints him. He will be all right now you have come. Go to your room, my dear, and I will send Sarah to you."
Mary was ready, and the maid gone, before William left Henry to come and dress on his own account. Mary wore white silk, with emerald ornaments.
"Shall I do, William?" asked she, when William came in.
"Do!" he answered, running his eyes over her. "No!"
"Why, what's the matter with me?" she cried, turning hurriedly to the great glass.
"This." He took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. "My darling wife! You will never 'do' without that."
It was not a formidable party at all, in defiance of Mary's anticipations. The judges, divested of their flowing wigs and flaming robes, looked just like other men. Jane liked Sir William Leader, as Frank had told her she would; and Mr. Justice Keene was an easy, talkative man, fond of a good joke and a good dinner. Mr. Justice Keene seemed excessively to admire Mary Halliburton; and—there could be no doubt about it, and I hope the legal bench won't look grave at the reflection—seemed very much inclined to get up a flirtation with her over the coffee. Being a judge, I think the bishop ought to have read him a reprimand.