“But you made her understand?”
“Yes. What did Julia say?”
“Oh, very little. Told me she could never love me, of course; but she’s a clever, sensible girl.”
“And she has consented?”
“Well, not exactly; but it’s all right. There will be no trouble there.”
Meanwhile Julia had gone straight to her mother and knelt down at her feet, resting her hands upon her knees, in her old child-like position, and gazing up in the pale, wasted face for some minutes without speaking.
“There is no hope, mother,” she said at last; “it must be.”
Mrs Hallam sat without replying for some minutes; then, taking her child’s face between her thin hands she bent down and pressed her lips upon the white forehead.
“Julie,” she whispered, “I was wrong. I thought you loved Mr Eaton, and I believed that if you married him it would have cut this terrible knot.”
Julia smiled softly, and with her eyes half closed. There was a curious, rapt expression in her sweet face, as if she were dreaming of some impossible joy. Then, as if rousing herself to action, she gave her dark curls a shake, and said quietly: