As Juliet sat drearily gazing on the sunlit roofs, madame arrived to pay her a visit.
"Mademoiselle should amuse herself now she is in Paris," she suggested; "she will find herself dull if she sits here all alone. She should go out and see the shops—the shops are beautiful. And the Louvre is not far-off, where there are pictures and statues. Mademoiselle should see the Louvre. And if mademoiselle has no French money, I can arrange that for her."
"No, I have no French money," said Juliet, opening her purse.
She gave madame some sovereigns, which she readily agreed to change, and did, reserving for herself, however, a liberal discount. Then, urged to it by madame, Juliet with a heavy heart set out to make acquaintance with the city of Paris.
How lonely she felt as she trod the broad, sunny streets, filled with gay, talkative people who seemed to have little to do save enjoy themselves, and who bestowed on her an amount of attention that was positively alarming, no words can tell. Here were the vaunted shops of Paris, with their windows filled with novelties that at one time would have enchanted her; but she glanced at them with listless eyes. What could she care now about the freshest millinery, the latest robes, the most rare and costly lingerie, or the latest eccentricities in trinkets? She felt no desire to make a purchase.
Could dainty gloves or costly trifles yield any pleasure to a girl who had been false to every dictate of duty, broken the closest bond of love, and deliberately forsaken all that made life worth living? Juliet shrank from every eye that rested on her as she went along. She felt as if all who looked on her must read the story of her wilfulness and ingratitude.
Once, as she stood by a shop window, only half conscious of the objects on which her eyes rested, she caught the words, "La belle Anglaise," and was aware that a gentleman who stood near was directing to her the attention of the lady who was his companion. Startled by finding herself thus observed, Juliet moved quickly away, and turned the corner into another street which appeared less frequented.
She wandered aimlessly on till the appearance of a house on the opposite side of the way arrested her attention, and she stood still to look at it. It was a large, substantially built house, with neatly curtained windows. But what struck Juliet as remarkable was that inscribed on its front were the words in English—"Asked of God," followed by a date many years back, and below them the words—"Given of God," with a date a few years later. The meaning was clear. The house stood there a memorial of answered prayer, and was probably the home of English workers.
As she stood and gazed at it, some association of ideas brought to Juliet's mind the thought of Mr. Mainprice, and of the summer night at Lynton, when under the influence of his words she had seemed to see the two ways opening before her, her own way and God's way, and had deliberately chosen to follow her own. To what had that way led her? The tears rose in her eyes as her heart gave to that question its bitter answer.
The next moment, Juliet felt someone touch her arm, and turning saw a lady beside her. The girl looked at her in wonder. She was undoubtedly English, for her style of dress—the little close-fitting bonnet and plain serge gown—resembled that of Salome. It was a good, strong, gentle face which the bonnet framed, and it had a look which somehow seemed familiar to Juliet, though she did not think she had seen the lady before.