"
"You don't know her; you don't know what passed between us. She
was all right then, but--Go to her, Black. She must have recovered
by this time. Ask her to come here for a minute. I won't detain
her. I will wait for her warning knock right here."
Alanson Black was a harsh man, but he had a soft streak in him--a
streak which had been much developed of late. Where he loved, he
could be extraordinarily kind, and he loved, had loved for years,
in his own way which was not a very demonstrative one, this man
whom he was now striving to serve. But a counter affection was
making difficulties for him just at this minute. Against all
probability, many would have said possibility, Deborah Scoville
had roused in this hard nature, a feeling which he was not yet
ready to name even to himself, but which nevertheless stood very
decidedly in his way when the judge made this demand which meant
further distress to her.
But the judge had declared his necessity to be greater than hers,
and after Mr. Black had subjected him to one of his most searching
looks he decided that this was so, and quietly departed upon his
errand. The judge left alone, sat, a brooding figure in his great
chair, with no light in heart or mind to combat the shadows of
approaching night settling heavier and heavier upon the room and
upon himself with every slow passing and intolerable minute.
At last, when the final ray had departed and darkness reigned
supreme, there came a low knock on the door.
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