Hepzibah spread out her gaunt figure across the door, and seemed really
to increase in bulk; looking the more terrible, also, because there was
so much terror and agitation in her heart. But Judge Pyncheon's
evident purpose of forcing a passage was interrupted by a voice from
the inner room; a weak, tremulous, wailing voice, indicating helpless
alarm, with no more energy for self-defence than belongs to a
frightened infant.
"Hepzibah, Hepzibah!" cried the voice; "go down on your knees to him!
Kiss his feet! Entreat him not to come in! Oh, let him have mercy on
me! Mercy! mercy!"
For the instant, it appeared doubtful whether it were not the Judge's
resolute purpose to set Hepzibah aside, and step across the threshold
into the parlor, whence issued that broken and miserable murmur of
entreaty. It was not pity that restrained him, for, at the first sound
of the enfeebled voice, a red fire kindled in his eyes, and he made a
quick pace forward, with something inexpressibly fierce and grim
darkening forth, as it were, out of the whole man. To know Judge
Pyncheon was to see him at that moment. After such a revelation, let
him smile with what sultriness he would, he could much sooner turn
grapes purple, or pumpkins yellow, than melt the iron-branded
impression out of the beholder's memory. And it rendered his aspect
not the less, but more frightful, that it seemed not to express wrath
or hatred, but a certain hot fellness of purpose, which annihilated
everything but itself.
Yet, after all, are we not slandering an excellent and amiable man?
Look at the Judge now! He is apparently conscious of having erred, in
too energetically pressing his deeds of loving-kindness on persons
unable to appreciate them. He will await their better mood, and hold
himself as ready to assist them then as at this moment. As he draws
back from the door, an all-comprehensive benignity blazes from his
visage, indicating that he gathers Hepzibah, little Phoebe, and the
invisible Clifford, all three, together with the whole world besides,
into his immense heart, and gives them a warm bath in its flood of
affection.
"You do me great wrong, dear Cousin Hepzibah!" said he, first kindly
offering her his hand, and then drawing on his glove preparatory to
departure. "Very great wrong! But I forgive it, and will study to make
you think better of me. Of course, our poor Clifford being in so
unhappy a state of mind, I cannot think of urging an interview at
present. But I shall watch over his welfare as if he were my own
beloved brother; nor do I at all despair, my dear cousin, of
constraining both him and you to acknowledge your injustice. When that
shall happen, I desire no other revenge than your acceptance of the
best offices in my power to do you."