John took a chair near the door which commanded the full sweep of stairway, and thus he watched Julia descend a few moments later; very sedately and with the hint of haughtiness in her air. He arose to take her hand, and he could not help contrasting this meeting with their first. Her hand in his tonight was almost lifeless, and there was a rebellious look in her dark eyes as she raised them briefly to his, he fancied accusingly.
"I told you not to believe him!" was the mute cry in John's heart, where little devils were beginning to cut and slash, but he smiled at her as he clasped her hand warmly, and asked of her health.
"I am well, thank you."
How cold she was! She remained standing, although there was another chair a short distance away. She did not look at him. She knew that she was hurting him, but she could not help it. She had wanted him so much the past week, and he had not come. And she had had nothing to do but think. Marston's awful words never left her mind, and the more she dwelt upon them the more clearly she became convinced that the love of her life was centered upon John Glenning. She would not believe that which she had heard, but he had told her he had sinned—back there in Jericho! But he had also said that he had fought through and had come out clean! She had sobbed half of one night through in her distress, and had waited day by day for him to come. At last, on the very eve of the day he did come, she had given orders that she would not see him. But the sound of his voice had melted her resolve. She stood before him now, her heart hardened in that strange way which all lovers have, and which must forever remain inexplicable, seemingly as unresponsive as a being of marble.
"Miss Dudley!—Miss Julia!" pleaded John, purposely throwing a note of tenderness in his voice, "what is wrong? Can you not tell me? I should be so glad to do—anything for you!"
A tremor shot over her. How strong and good his voice was!
"Father is unwell, that is all," she answered, in the same expressionless voice.
"For how long? Is it—anything to cause you worry?"
"No."
Colder than ever was the monosyllable, and Julia felt herself growing wickeder and wickeder, and she knew that directly she would be bad enough not to respond in any wise to whatever he might say.