Mittie hesitated still, and Julia could endure the suspense no longer. She made a rush forward, and caught the child's dress. Mittie struggled furiously, broke loose, and fled to the window. Before Julia could overtake her, she was out in the balcony, hanging over the slight parapet.
"Aunt Julia, if you touch me, I'll drop the letter! I declare I will."
But Julia's grasp was on the hand which held the letter. Mittie fought fiercely, her lissom figure bending more and more outwards. Suddenly she overbalanced herself. There was a scream, a clutch, a sound of something tearing,—and Mittie was all but precipitated on the pavement below. She had actually gone so far as to hang suspended, with no support but Julia's arms. Even the letter could not be thought of in that moment. Julia held on with all her force, in response to the child's convulsive clinging; but to lift her back over the parapet unassisted was not possible, Julia's muscular powers being less than one might have expected from her height and build. Fortunately Francesca at hand. Mittie's shrill cry drew an answering shriek from her as she ran forward, and after one moment of terrible suspense the child was safely landed.
For three seconds no one spoke, only each looked at the deathly white faces of the other two. It had been a frightfully near escape. Julia seemed stunned, hardly able to stand, and Mrs. Trevor was panting.
Mittie broke the silence. "It's gone!" she said. "It's down in the street. And I'm glad! Aunt Julia nearly killed me."
The excitable child flung herself on her mother in a tumult of sobs, and Francesca too was in tears. Julia still said nothing. She did not feel as if she could speak. The peril had been so very imminent, and the results might have been so very terrible. Her throat felt rigid, and black specks were dancing still before her eyes. But the letter— Harvey's letter—that must not be lost! Julia went downstairs slowly, her limbs shaking under her, and was met at the foot of the stairs by a waiter.
"Mademoiselle had dropped something," he said, presenting her with a muddy envelope. "It had been seen to fall from the window." Julia thanked him, and returned to the sitting-room.
"So you have got it," Francesca said coldly, as she entered. The child was clinging to her, and sobbing still. "I think you might have been content to wait half-a-minute, instead of behaving like a wild cat. Poor darling Mittie! It was awful."
Julia sat down, the letter pressed between her hands. "Mittie was wrong," she said.
"I dare say! A little innocent fun! And you were right, of course, as you always are."