"You are right in part, no doubt. I shall become hardened to it all, and shall fall into some endurable mode of life in time. But I can look forward to nothing. What future have I? Was there ever any one so utterly friendless as I am? Your kind cousin has done that for me;—and yet he came here to me the other day, smiling and talking as though he were sure that I should be delighted by his condescension. I do not think that he will ever come again."
"I did not know you had seen him."
"Yes; I saw him;—but I did not find much relief from his visit. We won't mind that, however. We can talk about something better than Hugh Clavering during the few minutes that we have together;—can we not? And so Miss Burton is very learned and very clever?"
"I did not quite say that."
"But I know she is. What a comfort that will be to you! I am not clever, and I never should have become learned. Oh, dear! I had but one merit, Harry;—I was fond of you."
"And how did you show it?" He did not speak these words, because he would not triumph over her, nor was he willing to express that regret on his own part which these words would have implied;—but it was impossible for him to avoid a thought of them. He remained silent, therefore, taking up some toy from the table into his hands, as though that would occupy his attention.
"But what a fool I am to talk of it;—am I not? And I am worse than a fool. I was thinking of you when I stood up in church to be married;—thinking of that offer of your little savings. I used to think of you at every harsh word that I endured;—of your modes of life when I sat through those terrible nights by that poor creature's bed;—of you when I knew that the last day was coming. I thought of you always, Harry, when I counted up my gains. I never count them up now. Ah, how I thought of you when I came to this house in the carriage which you had provided for me, when I had left you at the station almost without speaking a word to you! I should have been more gracious had I not had you in my thoughts throughout my whole journey home from Florence. And after that I had some comfort in believing that the price of my shame might make you rich without shame. Oh, Harry, I have been disappointed! You will never understand what I felt when first that evil woman told me of Miss Burton."
"Oh, Julia, what am I to say?"
"You can say nothing; but I wonder that you had not told me."
"How could I tell you? Would it not have seemed that I was vain enough to have thought of putting you on your guard?"