Julia turned her head away.
“Neither do I crave riches solely for myself,” she said, in low tones. “But I’m not as free from ambition as you are, and so I’ll not deny it. Sit down, Miss Heriton, will you? I want to talk to you—I want you to tell me what sort of a person Lady Mason is.”
“A very sad, serious lady outwardly, but her dependents and the cottagers near her residence adore her.”
“Is your expression, ‘sad and serious,’ a polite way of hinting that she is a stern and unforgiving mother?” asked Julia, after a short silence.
“Certainly not. I have heard mamma say that her only fault as a parent was overindulgence to a very reckless and undutiful son.”
Julia shivered and put her hands to her head, affirming that the pain was becoming intense again. Yet the next moment she resumed her questioning remarks.
“How bitterly you speak of this handsome lieutenant! Do you know that half the ladies who know him are contesting for the honor of his hand?”
“I know nothing more of him than I have already told you,” Florence rather frigidly replied. “I am not aware that I spoke of Lieutenant Mason more harshly than I should of any one else who has been so bad a son to an excellent mother. I think I will reserve my practicing till to-morrow, Miss Denham.”
Somehow, the conversation was distasteful to her, and she was glad to make her escape. She detected beneath Julia’s apparent carelessness a deep interest in all that concerned this young man—an interest she was not disposed to foster by listening while she dilated upon his fascinations.
Julia made no further efforts to detain her; but, saying a cold adieu, drew her shawl over her face, and Florence returned home.