"Don't name my singing to me again, mother, if you love me!" she said, with concentrated bitterness in her voice. "That delusion is shattered for ever."
"But, dear, you have really a very nice voice," Mrs. Tracy began, in her gentle, soothing way. A glance at Juliet arrested the words.
The girl was leaning against the window-shutter, and the light falling full on her face showed it to be pale and thin, the delicate brows contracted as if with pain, and her expression so sorrowful as to be almost that of despair.
"Oh, my dear child, do not look like that!" cried her mother in distress. "You must not let yourself brood upon the past. Try to forget what is so painful."
"As if one could forget," said Juliet bitterly, and the tears, which had been slowly gathering in her eyes, suddenly began to fall. But she quickly wiped them away, and stood motionless as before.
"Why do you not go out?" asked her mother. "It is such a lovely day. You never take a walk now, except those little turns with me, which are not exercise enough for you."
"I hate to go out alone when I have nothing to do," said Juliet. "If you would care for a drive to-day, I should be pleased to go with you."
"Not to-day, thank you, dear. I think it is rather too cold for driving. And I cannot allow you to be always spending money on drives for me."
"Mother, don't talk like that, please. What have I to do with my money now except spend it on you?"
"You are very good, my darling. I know you like to give me pleasure," said Mrs. Tracy. "If you want an object for a walk, I can give you one. I wish you would get me some more of this grey wool at Spalding's. You cannot match it at any other shop, and I shall soon be at a standstill for want of it."