"And why couldn't we go to Horace Brooks then?" demanded Anne Oglesby.

"What is the objection--why can't you go to him?"

"I'd rather not tell you," said Aurora Lane, and in spite of herself felt the color rise yet more to her face.

Anne Oglesby sat looking at her for some time in silence. "There are complications sometimes, are there not?" said she. So silence fell between them.

The drums had pa.s.sed by now. The sun had almost sunk to the edge of the last row of dust-crowned maples. The farmers here and there below were unhitching the sunburned horses at the courthouse rail.

"I see," said Anne at length. "You love him--or did--Don's father. Or do you still pity him!"

"Who are you?" said Aurora Lane, looking at her steadfastly. "You, so young! You talk of pity. Where have you learned so much--so soon? When you grow older, perhaps you may find it hard _not_ to forgive.

Everything's so little after all, and it's all so soon over."

Unsmilingly Anne Oglesby held her peace. "Why don't you want to ask Mr.

Brooks to act as our attorney?" she asked. "And who is he--I don't know him, you see."

Aurora did not answer the first part of her question. "I'll tell you where Mr. Brooks' office is," said she--"you see that little stair just across the courthouse yard? Sometimes he spends Sunday afternoon in his office. It's--well--it's hard for me to go over there and ask him."

"Has he--has he--ever been much to you?" asked Anne Oglesby, directly.

"In a way, yes," said Aurora Lane, quite truthfully, but flushing red.

"Outside of my own son, he is the only man that's ever raised voice or hand in my defense here in this town. Beyond that--don't ask me."

Anne Oglesby did not ask her beyond that. But when she spoke, there was decision in her tones.

"It is no doubt your duty to go to Mr. Brooks at once. Will he too refuse us?"

Aurora Lane's face remained flushed in spite of herself.

"I don't think he will refuse," said she. "But only Don's danger would ever induce me to ask him for any help. I'll ask him--for Don and you."

Twilight fell, and they still sat silent. There came at last the footfalls on the office stairs, and the two arose in the dim light to face the door.

Judge Henderson entered slowly, hesitatingly. He half started as, looking within the unlightened room, he saw standing silhouetted against the window front the tall, trimly-clad figure of his ward, and at her side, equally tall, the dim, vague outline of Aurora, clad in black. The two stood hand in hand, and for the time made no speech.

"I must go," said Aurora Lane, at length.

Anne would have pa.s.sed out with her, but her guardian raised a hand. "I must ask you where you are going?" said he.

"Not with me," said Aurora, quickly. "No, no, you must not." And so, quickly hurrying down the stair, she herself turned into the open street.

"Anne," said Judge Henderson, "I am deeply distressed. This all is terrible--it's an awful thing. Did you hear that funeral march? G.o.d! an awful thing, right when I am in this terrible dilemma. I've just been on the long distance 'phone trying to get Slattery--I can't find either him or Reeves; and I've got to act before court actually opens."

"What do you mean by a dilemma?" she asked coldly. "Does any dilemma last long with you, Uncle, when there is any question of your own self-interest?"

His face flushed under the cool insolence of her tone. "It's a fine courtesy you have learned in your schooling!"

"Have you heard all her history now?" he asked after an icy pause.

"Not all of it, no. Enough to admire her, yes. Enough to understand how this town feels toward her, yes. Why don't you all burn her as a witch in the public square?"

"You have a bitter tongue, Anne," said he. "You are not like your sainted mother."

"A while ago you said I was! But my sainted mother, whom I never knew, never found herself in a situation such as this," rejoined Anne Oglesby.

"At least, while my father lived, she had a man to fend for her. I have none. We are women only in this case."

"So it was your plan to marry a nameless man? You've sworn he always shall be nameless." The man's face showed a curious mixture of eagerness and anxiety. He wished to argue, to expound, but dared not face this young girl with the icy smile.

"Yes, I've sworn silence. It is a great and grave responsibility," said she. "I'm sadder for that, that's true. But there are many things in the world besides just being happy, don't you think? You see, I've no dilemma at all!"

Judge Henderson pa.s.sed a hand over his forehead. He had fought hard cases at the bar, but never had he fought a case like this.

"Anne," said he presently, "I'm very weary. I've had a hard day. I want you to go on up to the house now--the servants will make you comfortable until I come. Just now I was afraid you were going on over with Aurora Lane to her house."

"Not yet, Uncle," said she. "Perhaps at some later time, if you cast me out."

He only groaned at this thrust.

She pa.s.sed, a cool picture of youth, self-possessed and calm. He heard her foot tapping fainter as it descended the stair, listened to hear if she might come back again. But Anne went on down the street steadily, looking straight ahead of her. Already, it seemed to her, she had grown old. To those who saw her she seemed a beautiful young woman.

"That's Don Lane's girl," said one ancient to another, back of his hand.

"Lives over at Columbus. He kissed her right there on the depot platform, this very morning. Huh!"

"I don't blame him," rejoined the other, with a coa.r.s.e laugh. "But he ain't apt to get many more chances now. I wonder how he fooled her about himself--and her the judge's ward, or something."

"Nerve?" said his friend. "He's got nerve enough to a-done anything. But I guess they got him dead to rights this time."

"Yeh. The _town's_ got him dead to rights. No matter what the law----"

he stopped, his head up, as though sniffing at something in the air.

"Gawd!" said he. "Wasn't that music a awful thing! I can feel it in my bones right now. It makes me feel----"

"It makes a feller feel like doing something more'n being just sad! It makes a feller feel like--well----"

"Like _startin'_ something!"

The other nodded, grimly, his mouth caved in at the corners, tight shut now.

CHAPTER XV

THE ANGELS AND MISS JULIA

Anne scarcely had left the office when Judge Henderson, stepping into the inner room, pulled open a certain door of a cabinet beneath the washhand-stand. He drew forth a half-filled bottle of whisky, shook it once meditatively, and poured himself an adequate drink, refreshing himself with water at the tap. He stood for a moment, the half-emptied gla.s.s in his hand, looking at his features in the little gla.s.s which hung above the cabinet.

Not an unpleasant face it seemed to him; for so slowly had the lines come in his features, so slowly the gray in his hair, that almost he was persuaded they were not there at all. Delayed by the mirror to the extent of having consumed but half of his refreshing draft, yet purposing further imbibition, Judge Henderson paused at the sound of some person ascending the outer stair.