"I meant it kindly, indeed. Won't you believe so much? I can't understand how it is that you seem to think all of us are against you." Julia hesitated, and having no response, she went on earnestly, "I would do anything to persuade you that we really want to make you happy. It has been such a disappointment to me. Before I came I used to fancy that you and I would be like sisters, doing things together. Francesca was always so much older than me, more like a governess than a sister. I thought you would be a friend; and I thought I should learn so much from you, because I was told how good you were."
Was this said maliciously? Like lightning the query flashed through Hermione's mind, and like lightning a negative was supplied by Julia's troubled unconscious face. Then came the thought, hitherto crushed into the background, how grievously she had dishonoured her "good" profession, how unfaithful a "soldier and servant" she had shown herself. Hermione well knew what should have been her next step. Self-humiliation alone, with frank acknowledgment of having done wrong, might tend to undo ill results, side by side with secret confession and prayer for pardon. But alas, pride rose stiffly in the way. Hermione only stood still, listening.
"There are things I want to know—I don't mind saying so much to you. I have wanted it for a long time, and there seems no way of learning. Things which I have never been taught, and which, I suppose, you have always known—since you were a child, I mean. People are brought up so differently. I did hope when I was coming here that you might help me. But it always seems as if you only wanted to keep aloof, and did not care to speak to me. Don't you think things might be a little different?"
Was this actually Julia—the worldly irreligious Julia!—venturing to imply that Hermione had been in the wrong—venturing to suggest what Hermione ought to do? True, the suggestion was made humbly, and Julia's eyes were full of tears as she spoke. But Hermione did not love to have her duty pointed out even by her clergyman—much less was she likely to tolerate it from Julia. Conscience was speaking loudly, imperatively, within, yet Hermione drew up her head, answering in cold tones—
"I do not see what difference I could make."
"Is there anything I could do differently so as to please you? I would try, indeed I would, if I only knew how!"
Again there was a sound of tacit blame, not intended by the speaker, and Hermione chafed beneath it.
"If you would only believe me! I do so want to have things smooth and pleasant, not to have Harvey worried."
Hermione turned half away. "Harvey must take the consequences of introducing such a person as Mrs. Trevor into the house!"
"My sister!" Julia said only these two words.