either side the hall. Charley entered; and was going, full dash, across
the hall to a small room where the boys studied, singing at the top of
his voice, when the old servant of the family, Judith, an antiquated
body, in a snow-white mob-cap and check apron, met him, and seized his
arm.

"Hush, child! There's ill news in the house."

Charley dropped his voice to an awe-struck whisper. "What is it,
Judith? Is papa worse?"

"Child! there's illness of mind as well as of body. I didn't say
sickness; I said ill news. I don't rightly understand it; the mistress
said a word to me, and I guessed the rest. And it was me that took in
the letter! _Me_! I wish I had put it in my kitchen fire first!"

"Is it--Judith, is it news of the--the cause? Is it over?"

"It's over, as I gathered. 'Twas a London letter, and it came by the
afternoon post. All the poor master's hopes and dependencies for years
have been wrested from him. And if they'd give me my way, I'd prosecute
them postmen for bringing such ill luck to a body's door."

Charles stood something like a statue, the bright, sensitive colour
deserting his cheek. One of those causes, Might _versus_ Right, of
which there are so many in the world, had been pending in the Channing
family for years and years. It included a considerable amount of money,
which ought, long ago, to have devolved peaceably to Mr. Channing; but
Might was against him, and Might threw it into Chancery. The decision
of the Vice-Chancellor had been given for Mr. Channing, upon which