altered outwardly; with her old handsome resolute frown that I so well knew, carved upon her face. Many and many a time, in the day and in the night, with my head upon the pillow by her that my whispers might be plainer to her, I kissed her, thanked her, prayed for her, asked her for her blessing and forgiveness, entreated her to give me the least sign that she knew or heard me. No, no, no. Her face was immoveable. To the very last, and even afterwards, her frown remained unsoftened.
On the day after my poor good godmother was buried, the gentleman in black with the white neckcloth reappeared. I was sent for by Mrs. Rachael, and found him in the same place, as if he had never gone away.
“My name is Kenge,” he said; “you may remember it, my child; Kenge and Carboy, Lincoln's Inn.”
I replied, that I remembered to have seen him once before.
“Pray be seated—here, near me. Don't distress yourself; it's of no use. Mrs. Rachael, I needn't inform you who were acquainted with the late Miss Barbery's affairs, that her means die with her; and that this young lady, now her aunt is dead———”
“My aunt, sir!”
“It really is of no use carrying on a deception when no object is to be gained by it,” said Mr. Kenge, smoothly. “Aunt in fact, though not in law. Don't distress yourself! Don't weep! Don't tremble! Mrs. Rachael, our young friend has no doubt heard of—the—a—Jarndyce and Jarndyce .”
“Never,” said Mrs. Rachael.
“Is it possible,” pursued Mr. Kenge, putting up his eye-glasses, “that our young friend—I beg you won't distress yourself! — never heard of Jarndyce and Jarndyce!”
I shook my head, wondering even what it was.
“Not of Jarndyce and Jarndyce?” said Mr. Kenge, looking over his glasses at me, and softly turning the case about and about, as if he were petting something. “Not of one of the greatest Chancery suits known? Not of Jarndyce and Jarndyce—the—a—in itself a monument of Chancery practice? In which (I would say) every difficulty, every contingency, every masterly fiction, every form of procedure known in that court, is represented over and over again? It is a cause that could not exist, out of this free and great country. I should say that the aggregate of costs in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, Mrs. Rachael;” I was afraid he addressed himself to her, because I appeared inattentive; “amounts at the present hour to from six-ty to seven-ty thousand pounds!” said Mr. Kenge, leaning back in his chair.
I felt very ignorant, but what could I do? I was so entirely unacquainted with the subject, that I understood nothing about it even then.
“And she really never heard of the cause!” said Mr. Kenge. “Surprising !”
“Miss Barbary, sir,” returned Mrs. Rachael, “who is now among the Seraphim”
(“I hope so, I am sure,” said Mr. Kenge, politely.)
“—Wished Esther only to know what would be serviceable to her. And she knows, from any teaching she has had here, nothing more.”
“Well!” said Mr. Kenge. “Upon the whole, very proper. Now to the point,” addressing me. “Miss Barbary, your sole relation (in fact,
