“Heaven and earth!—is my place among these?” she exclaimed, sick with loathing and terror. But in a moment she rallied and rebuked herself. “Down proud heart,” she said, “who hath made me to differ, and how much at last _do_ I differ from these my poor brothers and sisters? _I_ fell before the first temptation, though all my life was fenced about from want, or care, or sin—while they—their lives may have been one series of privations, trials, and irresistible temptations! Who shall judge but God Omniscient? God comfort them, and forgive me!” she prayed meekly folding her hands and bowing her head. Her venerable protector, as inexperienced in these scenes as herself, also contemplated that den of savage or brutal faces, and grew pale with dread for his delicate charge. He did not venture to turn his eyes toward Estelle, but instinctively drew her arm closer within his own, and looked around in distress for Lord Dazzleright. His lordship had left them, and might now be seen conversing with the Judge. Presently he bowed, left his position, and with a grave, sad, almost angry countenance, slowly made his way through the crowd, and approached his client. “Well, well, Lord Dazzleright, well?” eagerly inquired Mr. Oldfield, alarmed at the ill-omened expression of the counsel’s face. “Oh! it is nothing! it is nothing!” said his lordship, drawing his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his heated and perspiring brow. “It is not precisely _nothing_, Lord Dazzleright, judging from your countenance and manner,” said Estelle, calmly and firmly. “Well, my child, it is nothing to alarm _you_, although it is something to displease me.” “Tell me the truth, Lord Dazzleright.” “I will do so, Lady Montressor! I went up there to examine the docket. I find our case is the last but two on the list, and may not probably come up for a week or ten days; I did not see the necessity of your ladyship’s presence here in the interim. I had an opportunity of speaking to the Judge, and showed him this, and prayed that my client might be discharged from the obligation of attending court, and suffered to remain with her bail, here in the city, until the day upon which her trial should come up, when she should again punctually present herself. The Judge chose to refuse my reasonable request, and require my client’s daily attendance here. And I am angry; that is all.” “Except that you are also _anxious_, my lord! Is it not so? Hide nothing from me.” “No, no, certainly not _anxious_,” said the counsel, while his looks belied his words,—“in no degree _anxious_, for though this may appear unfavorable on the part of the court, yet Sir James Allan Parke, if a stern, is a just Judge, and I rest our cause upon its integral justice, not upon external favor.”