‘We were very, very poor,’ says Juliet, with proud simplicity, ‘and I am hardly accustomed to the use of money yet. But I was crying—it is very foolish of me, I know, but I cannot help it—because my husband is going away.’
‘Going away! and where?’
‘To Italy, with his sister, Mrs Carnaby-Hicks. He has been very worried and upset lately, Lady Tresham, and he wants change, and I know it will be best for him—but—but—’
‘You feel the responsibility of being left alone; that is very natural. Yet, perhaps, it will teach you self-dependence. And for my own part, I am glad Sir Roland is away just now. I want to make friends with you, my dear; to help you, if it is in my power. I know your husband has thought hard things of me, and, perhaps, of poor Sir Ralph into the bargain; but in what we did we believed we were acting for the best. Now, all that is over; you will neither of you ever want money again, but you may need advice. And I should like to begin by advising you. Why do you not take this trip with your husband? You look pale and worn out. It would do you good as well as him.’
‘He does not want me,’ says Juliet, sadly; ‘he is only going in order to get away from me.’
‘That is hardly possible. You are a wife of whom any man must be proud.’
‘I used to be told I was pretty,’ replies Lady Tresham, with a faint blush; ‘but that was a long time ago.’
‘Rubbish, child; you are in your prime. And you have six children; and I have not even one. What a happy woman you ought to be.’
But Lady Tresham does not answer. The tears are rising thickly to her eyes, and falling down her cheeks again.