"I can never forget it. A time like that must make a difference to one all through life. At least I hope so. I don't feel as if I could ever take things lightly and carelessly again. Won't you help me, dear Hermione? I know you can—as so few could."
Julia spoke with a grave truth and naturalness which showed that she thoroughly meant what she said. But Hermione shrank under the words, and drew her hand away from Julia's touch. "O no!" escaped her lips.
"Won't you?—when there is so much that I want to learn, and you can give me just the help that I need?"
"No, no!" The words seemed wrung from Hermione, and she turned her head away. "I can't. Not I. Mr. Fitzalan—"
"Yes, indeed, he does help me more than I can tell. I am always learning from his sermons. But still—you and I live together, and it does seem as if we ought to be friends. Your training has been so different from mine. Couldn't you teach me the things you have learnt all your life?—the things I have only just begun to know?"
"Oh no! I don't deserve—"
The words were scarcely audible. Julia could not be quite sure what Hermione said, only there was no mistake about the accompanying sob.
"Then shall we help one another?" she asked affectionately.
Hermione made no answer to this, and her face was still turned away, but she did not repel the arm which came softly round her waist.
"That was not all I had to say. There was something else," Julia began after a little break. She was afraid of interruptions. "I have been wanting to tell you all yesterday and to-day. About going to East Bourne—"