“Well, if you will, you will, I suppose. Nobody can stop you. But I see just what will come of it. You’ll fool away a little while there, and find out how mistaken you were; and then you’ll come back to Herbert to be taken care of. And you don’t realize how offended Herbert is going to be by your actions, and how he’ll feel about letting you come back after you have gone away in such high feather. You haven’t anything to speak of to support yourself, of course, and how on earth do you expect to live anyway after these children get through their college and get married or something? They won’t want you then.”
Julia arose and went to the window to get calmed. She was more angry than she had been for years. The thought of Herbert’s having to take care of her ever was intolerable. But she was able to hold her tongue until she could get her eyes on those hills out of the window. “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.” That had been the verse which she had read from her little Bible before leaving her room in the early morning and she was grappling it close to her heart, for she had known it would be a hard day.
Ellen was watching her silently. Almost she 78 thought she had made an impression. Perhaps this was the time to repeat Herbert’s threat.
“Herbert feels,” she began, “that if you refuse his offer now he can’t promise to keep it open. He can’t be responsible for you if you take this step. He said he wanted you to understand thoroughly.”
Julia Cloud turned and walked with swift step to the little parlor where lay the paper she and Mr. Luddington had just signed, and a copy of which he had taken with him. She returned to her astonished sister with the paper in her hand.
“Perhaps it would be just as well for you to read this,” she said with dignity, and put the paper into Ellen’s hands, going back to her clearing of the table.
There was silence in the dining-room while Ellen read, Julia moving on quiet feet about the table, putting things to rights. She had finished her part of the argument. She was resolutely putting out of her mind the things her sister had just said, and refusing altogether to think of Herbert. She knew in her heart just how Herbert had looked when he had said those things, even to the snarl at the corner of his nose. She knew, too, that Ellen had probably not reported the message even so disagreeably as the original, and she knew that it would be better to forget.
“Well,” said Ellen, rising after a long perusal, laying the paper on the table, “that sounds all very well in writing. The thing is to see how it comes out. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, and you needn’t tell me that any man in his senses will pay all that salary merely for a ‘chaperon,’ as he calls it. If he 79 does, he’s a fool; that’s all I’ve got to say. But I suppose nothing short of getting caught in a trap will make you see it; so I better save my breath. I’m sure I hope you won’t go to the poorhouse through your stubbornness. I’ve done all I could to keep you from it, and it’s pretty hard to have my only sister leave me––so soo-oo-on after mother’s––death.”
“Well, Ellen,” said Julia Cloud, looking at her speculatively, “I’m sure I never dreamed you cared about having me away from here. You’ve never shown much interest in being with me. But I’m sorry if you feel it that way, and I’m sure I’ll write to you and try to do little things for the children often, now that I shall have something to do with.” But her kindly feeling was cut short by Ellen interrupting her.
“Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself! We can look after the children ourselves. You better save what you get to look after yourself when those two get over this whim!”