'If your curiosity, Madam,' said Juliet, more calmly, yet not daring any longer to resist, 'is excited to take an inventory of my small property, I must endeavour to indulge it.'
She was preparing to untie the strings of her work-bag; when a sudden recollection of the bank-notes of Harleigh, for the possession of which she could give no possible account, checked her hand, and changed her countenance.
Mrs Howel, perceiving her embarrassment, yet more haughtily said, 'Will you deliver your work-bag, young woman, to Rawlins?'
'No, Madam!' answered Juliet, reviving with conscious dignity; 'I will neither so far offend myself at this moment,—nor you for every moment that shall follow! I can deliver it only into your own hands.'
'Enough!' cried Mrs Howel. 'Rawlins, order Hilson to enquire out the magistrate of this village, and to desire that he will send to me some peace-officer immediately.'
She then opened the door of a small inner room, into which she shut herself, with an air of deadly vengeance.
Mrs Rawlins, at the same time, passed to the outer room, to summon Hilson.
Juliet, confounded, remained alone. She looked from one side to the other; expecting either that Mrs Howel would call upon her, or that Mrs Rawlins would return for further orders. Neither of them re-appeared, or spoke.
Alarmed, now, yet more powerfully than disgusted, she compelled herself to tap at the door of Mrs Howel, and to beg admission.
She received no answer. A second and a third attempt failed equally. Affrighted more seriously, she hastened to the outer room; where a man, Hilson, she supposed, was just quitting Mrs Rawlins.