"No!"
"Ah!" said Mrs. Ogilvie.
"I don't know why she is not. I wish she were. My husband and I wish so much to make her happy. And everybody thinks Hermione so wonderfully sweet and good; yet somehow we don't get on well. I could love her if she would let me, but I always have a feeling of being almost despised by Hermione. Perhaps I ought to say 'disdained.' 'Despised' is too strong an expression."
Julia had not had the least intention of saying all this. The words broke from her, drawn out by that quiet comprehending face. She caught herself up suddenly—
"I am sorry to say so much. Harvey would not be pleased. He hates gossip, and, indeed, it isn't my way. Please don't let it go further; and forget it yourself. Such things are best not talked about, and I dare say we shall fit in better by-and-by. Perhaps it is partly my fault that we don't now."
"No, I think not. I hardly expected to hear anything different," Mrs. Ogilvie answered. For half-a-minute she studied carefully the young face before her. Twice Julia's black eyes were lifted to meet the gaze, and sank before it. At the half-minute's close, to Julia's exceeding surprise, Mrs. Ogilvie bent forward and kissed her cheek. Julia flushed up brightly, with an odd shy sense of pleasure.
"Hermione is a girl of peculiar temperament, and she has had a peculiar training," continued Mrs. Ogilvie. "I know her character well. You need not regret having spoken frankly, for I never repeat things. Perhaps I am as good a confidante as you could have chosen, for having loved her mother so dearly seems to give me a kind of right over the child herself. She is not a child now, but one clings to the term."
"I don't think I have heard Hermione speak of you."
"Very likely not. I am not a great favourite of Hermione's."
Julia's wondering eyes made Mrs. Ogilvie laugh.