Her own way

by Eglanton Thorne

How slowly the hours passed! She watched the face of the clock in the belfry, and the hands scarcely seemed to move. But they did creep steadily on. Four o'clock struck, and then five, then six. At each hour, Juliet's thoughts turned homewards, and she pictured what her mother and sisters would be doing, and imagined the words her mother might be uttering concerning herself. Ah, she would be thinking that she was with the Felgates at Folkestone. She would never dream of her in such a position as this. And Juliet began to realise, as she had not before done, the enormity of the deceit of which she had been guilty.

The six strokes had not long resounded from the belfry when there came a tap at Juliet's door. She started up, half scared by the sound, and opened the door. Adolphe stood there. With some difficulty, Juliet understood his errand; he came to announce that dinner was served, and to ask if mademoiselle would not descend for it.

Juliet had for some time been conscious of the increased savouriness of the fumes which rose from the kitchen. She was feeling faint and sick for want of food; so, with a sense of gratitude, she accepted the man's invitation and followed him quickly down the stairs.

He led the way to the salle à manger on the ground-floor. With dismay, Juliet saw as she entered that it was full of people. She felt that her entrance created a sensation, as she advanced up the long room to the seat the waiter drew out for her.

Madame, her appearance so changed since the early morning that Juliet scarcely recognised her, was busy ladling out soup at a side-table, but turned to bid her "good-evening" smilingly as she passed.

Juliet sat down hurriedly, and for a while did not lift her eyes from her soup, which proved excellent. When at last she was compelled to raise her eyes, she perceived that opposite to her sat a long line of men, each with his serviette tightly tucked into his collar and depending over his chest, and each with his eyes fixed on her. At any other time the sight of so many men feeding like bibbed infants must have excited Juliet's sense of the ludicrous; but now she felt no inclination to laugh, only a great longing to escape from those curious eyes.

On her own side of the table near the top were four young women, who talked and laughed loudly, and whose remarks were not always in the best taste. Their accent told Juliet that they were Americans, and she gathered from their talk that they were art students belonging to one of the studios in Paris. She soon became aware that she was an object of considerable interest to them. Whenever she glanced in their direction, she found their eyes upon her, and the way in which they would nudge each other and suddenly lower their tones convinced her that they were discussing her appearance and probable history.

After that Juliet hardly knew what she ate. Her face and ears burned. She fancied that everyone who looked at her must know that she was a girl who had run away from home. Ah, if only they knew how fervently she longed to be safe in the shelter of her home once more!

It seemed as if the long, tedious meal would never come to an end; but at last it was over, and Juliet made her escape and hurried back to her own room, resolved that she would not again come down to take a meal in public. There she sat till the daylight faded, when she went disconsolately to bed; and thus ended her first day in Paris.

The following day brought her the same problem how to pass its hours. Strange to say, much as Juliet regretted the step she had taken, she never thought of turning back. It did not occur to her that she ought to write to her mother and confess all, or go home in penitence and seek the forgiveness she so ill deserved. No; it seemed to her that she had taken a step from which there could be no going back. If her mother did not already know, she soon must know what she had done, and she would hate the child who had shown herself so ungrateful. And such a feeling of shame came over Juliet, when she realised the position in which she had placed herself, that she could only desire to flee far from everyone who had known her in the past.