But the Judge, the instant he remembered himself, resumed his ire toward Mr.Pyecroft.
Thus three days, in which it seemed to Mrs.De Peyster that Time stood still and taunted her,--each day exactly like the day before, a day of half starvation, of tiptoed, breathless routine,--days in which she spoke not a word save a whisper or two at midnight at the food-bearing visit of the sad-visaged Matilda,--three dull, diabolic days dragged by their interminable length of hours.

Such days!--such awful, awful days! On Matilda's fourth visit with her usual bundle of pilferings from the pantry, Mrs.De Peyster observed in the manner of that disconsolate pirate a great deal of suppressed agitation--of a sort hardly ascribable to the danger of their situation: an agitation quite different from mere nervous fear.

There were traces of recent crying in Matilda's face, and now and then she had difficulty in holding down a sob.

Mrs.De Peyster pressed her as to the trouble; Matilda chokingly replied that there was nothing.

Mrs.De Peyster persisted, and soon Matilda was weeping openly.
"Oh, my heart's broke, ma'am!" she sobbed.