He was convinced that it was Madge who was weeping, that she was in the long drawing-room, where the portrait of the judge hung near the door.
He went nearer the door.

His excited desire to offer her some sympathy, to comfort, or if possible to help, became intolerable.

So conscious was he of a common interest between them that not for a moment did the sense of prying enter his mind.
He heard then a few words whispered as if to the portrait: 'Father, oh, father, we were so happy with him! It is almost the only time that we have been quite happy since you went away.' The sense of the broken whispers came tardily to Courthope's understanding through the smothering door.

The handle of the door was on a level with the hands that were bound to his sides; he turned himself in order to bring his fingers near it.
Before he touched it he heard Madge sob and whisper again: 'I was so happy, father; I thought it was such fun he had come.

I like gentlemen, and we never, never see any except the ones that come out of books.' To Courthope it suddenly seemed that the whole universe must have been occupied with purpose to bring him here in order to put an end to her gloom and flood her life with sunshine; the universe could not be foiled in its attempt.