Might, in his overbearing power, carried it to a higher tribunal.
Possibly the final decision, from which there could be no appeal, had
now come.

"Judith," Charles asked, after a pause, "did you hear whether--whether
the letter--I mean the news--had anything to do with the Lord
Chancellor?"

"Oh, bother the Lord Chancellor!" was Judith's response. "It had to do
with somebody that's an enemy to your poor papa. I know that much.
Who's this?"

The hall door had opened, and Judith and Charles turned towards it. A
gay, bright-featured young man of three and twenty entered, tall and
handsome, as it was in the nature of the Channings to be. He was the
eldest son of the family, James; or, as he was invariably styled,
Hamish. He rose six foot two in his stockings, was well made, and
upright. In grace and strength of frame the Yorkes and the Channings
stood A1 in Helstonleigh.

"Now, then! What are you two concocting? Is he coming over you again to
let him make more toffy, Judy, and burn out the bottom of another
saucepan?"

"Hamish, Judy says there's bad news come in by the London post. I am
afraid the Lord Chancellor has given judgment--given it against us."

The careless smile, the half-mocking, expression left the lips of
Hamish. He glanced from Judith to Charles, from Charles to Judith. "Is
it sure?" he breathed.