"I daresay," said Mrs. Tracy, with a faint smile; "but you are a long way from that at present, my child. I expect he only said it to flatter you. You must not dream of being a public singer, Juliet. I hate the idea of a public career for a woman. The quieter and simpler her life, the happier she is, as a rule."
"I don't think so," said Juliet, vexed that her mother did not share her elation. "I know I am sick to death of the quietness and simplicity of my life. Oh! what is the matter, mother?"
Her mother had sunk on to a chair, and was pressing both hands to her temples. Her face was very pale.
"My head!" she moaned. "It has been aching all day, but now the pain has grown almost unendurable. I believe I shall have to go to bed."
"Oh dear it is all my fault!" exclaimed Juliet, greatly distressed. "You must go to bed, mother dear, and I will bathe your head with toilet vinegar, and give you the medicine which always sends you to sleep."
And, contrite and remorseful, Juliet waited on her mother in the deftest and tenderest manner. When, some time later, she lay down in her own little bed, her mind was still so uneasy that sleep did not come readily. She turned from side to side, though cautiously, that she might not disturb her mother, many times ere she fell asleep.
Mrs. Tracy, when once her dose began to take effect, slept soundly. She woke in the early morning to find that Juliet was already up and kneeling in her nightdress by the fender, engaged in some mysterious operation.
"What are you doing, dear?" her mother asked.
"I am getting you a cup of tea," Juliet replied, as she anxiously watched the little kettle she had placed to boil on a spirit-lamp; "it will soon be ready now."
"You are very good, darling," Mrs. Tracy said, as Juliet brought the cup of fragrant tea to her bedside. She liked the refreshment of an early cup of tea, though it was an indulgence she rarely allowed herself, since Salome regarded it as an extravagance, and Hannah condemned the habit as pernicious.