Miss Ada,” said Mr. Kenge, this is Miss Miss Ada,” said Mr. Kenge, this is Miss Summerson.” ‟Summerson.” ‟

She came to meet me with a smile of welcome and her hand

extended, but seemed to change her mind in a moment and kissed me.

In short, she had such a natural, captivating, winning manner that in a

few minutes we were sitting in the window-seat, with the light of the fire

upon us, talking together as free and happy as could be.

What a load off my mind! It was so delightful to know that she could

confide in me and like me! It was so good of her, and so encouraging to

me!

The young gentleman was her distant cousin, she told me, and his

name Richard Carstone. He was a handsome youth with an ingenuous

face and a most engaging laugh; and after she had called him up to

where we sat, he stood by us, in the light of the fire, talking gaily, like a

light-hearted boy. He was very young, not more than nineteen then, if

quite so much, but nearly two years older than she was. They were both

orphans and (what was very unexpected and curious to me) had never

met before that day. Our all three coming together for the first time in

such an unusual place was a thing to talk about, and we talked about it;

and the fire, which had left off roaring, winked its red eyes at us—as

Richard said—like a drowsy old Chancery lion.

We conversed in a low tone because a full-dressed gentleman in a bag

wig frequently came in and out, and when he did so, we could hear a

drawling sound in the distance, which he said was one of the counsel in

our case addressing the Lord Chancellor. He told Mr. Kenge that the

Chancellor would be up in five minutes; and presently we heard a bustle

and a tread of feet, and Mr. Kenge said that the Court had risen and his

lordship was in the next room.

The gentleman in the bag wig opened the door almost directly and

requested Mr. Kenge to come in. Upon that, we all went into the next

room, Mr. Kenge first, with my darling—it is so natural to me now that I

can’t help writing it; and there, plainly dressed in black and sitting in anShe came to meet me with a smile of welcome and her hand

extended, but seemed to change her mind in a moment and kissed me.

In short, she had such a natural, captivating, winning manner that in a

few minutes we were sitting in the window-seat, with the light of the fire

upon us, talking together as free and happy as could be.

What a load off my mind! It was so delightful to know that she could

confide in me and like me! It was so good of her, and so encouraging to

me!

The young gentleman was her distant cousin, she told me, and his

name Richard Carstone. He was a handsome youth with an ingenuous

face and a most engaging laugh; and after she had called him up to

where we sat, he stood by us, in the light of the fire, talking gaily, like a

light-hearted boy. He was very young, not more than nineteen then, if

quite so much, but nearly two years older than she was. They were both

orphans and (what was very unexpected and curious to me) had never

met before that day. Our all three coming together for the first time in

such an unusual place was a thing to talk about, and we talked about it;

and the fire, which had left off roaring, winked its red eyes at us—as

Richard said—like a drowsy old Chancery lion.

We conversed in a low tone because a full-dressed gentleman in a bag

wig frequently came in and out, and when he did so, we could hear a

drawling sound in the distance, which he said was one of the counsel in

our case addressing the Lord Chancellor. He told Mr. Kenge that the

Chancellor would be up in five minutes; and presently we heard a bustle

and a tread of feet, and Mr. Kenge said that the Court had risen and his

lordship was in the next room.

The gentleman in the bag wig opened the door almost directly and

requested Mr. Kenge to come in. Upon that, we all went into the next

room, Mr. Kenge first, with my darling—it is so natural to me now that I

can’t help writing it; and there, plainly dressed in black and sitting in an