“I shall say no more,” returned the old woman; “you will find out that I am right in the end.”
“But I am afraid—”
“Of what?” exclaimed Aunt Victoria. “She is not going to poison you. ‘Nothing venture, nothing have.’ Follow my advice if you like,” she ended; “if not, settle the matter in your own way. What the deuce does it matter? You will see that I am right; and if you find it does not suit you to stay there, why, you can leave the house at any time.”
Juliana made up her mind that she would go and see. By-and-by she discovered that Aunt Victoria sometimes had right on her side.
Luiza appeared resigned to circumstances. Sebastião had gone again to Almada, but she was determined that as soon as he returned she would go to his house some morning, throw herself at his feet, and confess to him everything,—everything. She bore with Juliana, thinking it a question of a few days at the utmost, and never opened her lips to her. The proper course with Juliana was to pay her her wages and put her in the street. Until she could do this, there was nothing for it but to bear with her in silence. When Sebastião returned—
Meantime she avoided seeing her. She never called her. She never left her room in the morning without being certain that her bath was filled, and everything in readiness for her toilet. During the daytime she remained in her bedroom, reading, sewing, thinking of Jorge, and sometimes—with hatred—of Bazilio, desiring Sebastião’s return, and preparing her confession beforehand.
Juliana came face to face with her one day in the hall, carrying a jug of water to her room.
“But, Senhora, why did you not call me?” she exclaimed, apparently shocked.
“I had nothing else to do,” returned Luiza.
Juliana followed her to her bedroom, and closing the door behind her said,—