She was growingly conscious of something lacking in herself, something which she could not at all define, even while she was aware of the want. There was a sense of dissatisfaction, of insecurity, of worthlessness, in all she had to do; express it how one will, it came to this, that Julia hungered after what she had not, and she saw no means of getting it unless through Hermione.
No use to go to her husband. Julia had learnt so much by this time— had learnt it with a new pain. Dear as he was to her, passionately as she loved him, they were in touch only as to the things of every-day life. Beyond all was haze. Julia stood alone and lonely in her higher cravings, for if he ever experienced the same he would not avow it. To consult Harvey on any question of religious import she had found to be almost as useless, though not so impossible, as to consult Francesca.
But here was Hermione Rivers, good, really good; a thoroughly religious person; one who read her Bible regularly, and believed in the power of prayer; one who taught in the Sunday-school, and found pleasure in Church-going, and went in for good works. Julia might have a certain dread of over-much religious talk, yet that dread had gone down lately before the stronger desire to learn. After weeks of delay, she had come to Westford Hall, full of the thought, anxiously expectant of what she might gain from Hermione.
Then disappointment fell. For the first greeting was chill, the after-companionship was nought, the religions atmosphere was nowhere. This excellently good and devoted girl, from whom Julia had expected so much, was hardly more to her than a pensive and lovely shadow, coming and going indeed among them, but keeping aloof, living a life apart, seldom speaking needlessly, persistent in a gentle icy sorrow.
Julia's loneliness grew upon her as time went by. Harvey was very busy, riding about the place, looking into necessary matters which did not interest her at all, except in their connection with him. Mrs. Trevor largely undertook household arrangements, only requiring a nominal assent from Julia. Callers came, but Julia did not take to these new people; they were Hermione's friends, and too plainly pitied Hermione, whereas Julia counted herself the person most to be pitied. Position and wealth went for little in her estimation. She did crave often for a true friend, one who would sympathise and understand below the surface, not merely meet her politely and kindly above it; and though she resisted the craving as almost a wrong to her husband, it sprang up anew.
For there was no getting below the surface with him. He distinctly repelled any attempt on her part to do so, distinctly shrank from it. Julia became more and more aware of a certain something in him which she could not fathom. There was a locked door, and she might not glance through the door.
So weeks passed, and two lonely hearts walked side by side under the same roof—one a girl's, and one a wife's—never touching, for Hermione never guessed that the other needed her love.
Mittie ran wild these summer days, delighting in the country; yet not so wild as some thought, for a new influence had crept into her life, and already the plastic child-nature was responsive to the moulding touch of that influence. A governess was talked of, but Francesca said tranquilly, "No hurry; she might as well enjoy herself first;" and neither Francesca nor any one else at the Hall knew how the child haunted the Rectory. Even Hermione hardly realised it. Perhaps because she had not been herself to see the Fitzalans so often lately as usual.
She was a little shy of another tête-à-tête with Mr. Fitzalan. It was impossible to forget that he had been allowed an unwonted glimpse into her true self, and Hermione could hardly forgive herself for certain things she had said.
Harry Fitzalan was not much at Westford through his long vacation, not half so much as he wished to be. He had made other arrangements in the spring, and they could not now be broken through.