This was the judge’s verdict, and Everard felt his chain cutting deeper and deeper as he thought how impossible it was for him to acknowledge the marriage now. He did not sleep at all that night, and the morning found him pale, and haggard, and spiritless, as he walked down the road in the direction of Mrs. Everts’. Josey was waiting for him and ready for the train. She had not told any of her numerous admirers that she expected to leave that morning, as she wished to see Everard alone. She was neither pale, nor fagged, nor tired-looking, though she, too, had passed a sleepless night, but her complexion was just as soft, and creamy, and smooth, and her eyes just as bright and melting as she welcomed her husband, and laying her hand on his, said to him: “You are going with your father, I suppose. How long before I can come too?” There was a sudden lifting of his hand to his head as if he had been struck, and Everard staggered a little back from her, as he replied: “Come to Forrest House? I don’t know. I am afraid that will never be while father lives.” “Yes, I saw he took a great dislike to me, and probably he has been airing his opinion of me to you,” she said, tartly; then, as Everard did not speak, she continued: “Tell me what he said of me.” “Why should he say anything of you to me? He knows nothing,” Everard asked, and Josephine replied: “I don’t know why. I only know he has; so, out with it. I insist upon knowing the worst. What did he say?” There was a hard ring in her voice, which Agnes knew well, but which Everard had never heard before, and a look in her eyes before which he quailed; and after a moment, during which she twice repeated: “Tell me what he said,” he answered her: “I would rather not, for I have no wish to wound you unnecessarily, and what father said was not complimentary.” “I know that. I knew he hated me, but I insist upon knowing just what he said and all he said,” Josie cried passionately, for she, who seldom lost her temper except with Agnes, was beginning to lose it now. “If you will insist I must tell you, I suppose,” Everard said, “but remember that father’s prejudices are sometimes unfounded.” He meant to soften it to her as much as possible, but he told her the truth, and Josie was _conscious_ of a keener pang of mortification than she had ever felt before. She had meant to win the judge, just as she won all men when she tried, but she had failed utterly. He disliked and despised her, and if he knew she was his son’s wife he might go to any length to be rid of her, even to the attempting a divorce. Once, when sorely pressed, Agnes had suggested that idea as something which might occur to Everard, and said: “You know that under the circumstances he could get one easily.”