There was such profound misery in her accents that Florence and Susan both moved toward her—indeed, the latter had been always gentle and patient with her wayward relative, striving by increasing her own labors to prevent Julia enduring any straits from the loss of her pupils—but they were coldly repulsed.
“There is only one thing in the world you can either of you do for me now, and that is to prove my innocence to those who have maligned me, if ever it lies in your power.”
The promise was readily given, Florence adding:
“But let us hope that Lieutenant Mason will yet repent his conduct, and return to you.”
“I have left off hoping,” said Julia, with a wan smile, as she threw her shawl over her arm and retreated to the inner room.
She came back directly with a tiny locket in her hand.
“I think I heard that you are going to leave this neighborhood, Miss Heriton. Will you wear this sometimes in remembrance of Julia Mason?”
Before Florence could accept or reject the gift she had passed to her cousin, and, laying her hands on her shoulders, looked sorrowfully in her face.
“If I were only like you, Susan—only good, patient, and contented as you have been!”
The next moment she had gone, and they heard her turn the key in the lock. Susan Denham had lost all her usual composure now, and was trembling excessively.