As she was pondering this difficulty, her uncle's sad condition for the time forgotten, Salome entered the room with a telegram in her hand. As she advanced to the bedside, her grave, solemn look told the nature of the news she brought ere she opened her lips.
"Oh, don't tell me!" exclaimed Juliet wildly. "Don't tell me that he is dead!"
"Perhaps you had better read the telegram, then," said Salome grimly.
Juliet glanced at the brown sheet, read the few words it contained, and dashed it from her. Then she threw herself face downwards on the pillow, drawing the coverlid well over her head. So Salome left her; but looking back ere she closed the door, she knew by the heaving of the bedclothes that Juliet was sobbing violently.
Some hours later, Mrs. Tracy came gently into the room, and approached the girl's bedside. Quietly as she entered, Juliet recognised her step, and turned her head. It was a sad, troubled young face that looked up from the pillow. As she met her mother's gaze the tears gathered anew in her eyes.
"You must not grieve, dear," said her mother gently. "His end was very peaceful."
"I must grieve!" cried Juliet bitterly. "I shall always grieve. It is too horrible to think that if—if only we had known before, it might have been prevented. That horrid Mrs. Carroll!"
"Come, come. You must not be too hard on Mrs. Carroll. She acted according to her light. She did not know what to do better."
"To think that he should die," sobbed Juliet, "just as we were beginning to know and love him—we, who never had anyone belonging to us before! And he was always so kind—and—and—to think that I shall never see him again. If only I had known when I was there a fortnight ago, that I should never see him again!"
"Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Tracy, "it is one of the saddest things in life, that we do not know when the last times are. Your uncle was conscious for a moments ere he passed away. He spoke of you. He, said, 'Give my love to Juliet, and tell her to be a good girl.'"