"Oh, I want you to keep the books, Hannah. I shall write your name in them. You must keep them as a parting keepsake from me."
"Nonsense, Juliet; I shall do nothing of the kind. Really, to hear you, one would think you were never coming back. The idea of your giving me those books that you like so much."
"I bought the books myself; it is hard if I cannot do what I like with them," said Juliet, affecting to pout. And when she brought her sister the books on the following day, Hannah saw that her name was indeed written in them. She was half touched, half provoked by what she considered a new manifestation of Juliet's eccentricity. She certainly was a very odd girl; but not wholly bad, perhaps, after all.
On the night previous to her departure, Mrs. Tracy advised Juliet to go early to bed, and the girl, unusually docile, obeyed. But, though she went upstairs, she did not lie down till she heard her mother's step upon the stairs. How could she sleep when everything that met her gaze in the old familiar room said to her that it was the last time—the last time probably that she would share that room with her mother, the last time that things would be as they had been?
Juliet was lying motionless, only the top of her head visible above the bedclothes, when her mother entered the room, and Mrs. Tracy moved about noiselessly on tiptoe, lest she should disturb her. But presently Juliet lifted her head and said, "You need not creep about like that, mother; I'm awake."
"Oh, I am sorry, darling," said Mrs. Tracy, coming quickly to her side; "I hoped you were in a nice sleep."
"You need not be sorry about it, mother. You are always being sorry about me, and I wish you would not," exclaimed Juliet, the emotion pent up within her finding vent in irritable speech. "I wish you would learn not to care a bit about me."
"I shall not soon learn that, I think, dear."
"If you knew me as I really am, you would hate me. You cannot think how I hate myself," said Juliet, suddenly beginning to sob. "Oh, mother, if I grieved you very much, if you thought me very wrong, could you still love me?"
"Of course, darling. I should be a poor mother if I could not. But why talk in this morbid way? Nothing so dreadful is going to happen."