The next day, Julie, gathering together the courage of necessity, went to see the Treasurer about the projected loan to the teachers.
Her heart beat violently as she climbed the stone flights of the Ayuntamiento, in the left wing of which the civil government offices were located. Purcell was in the Treasury, seated at his desk. As Julie appeared before him, a strange alteration flashed through his light eyes; a swift omen, gone before it could be captured.
“Good morning!” he said, politely rising. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
There was a preparedness in his attitude that cast the girl down more than ever. That it should be to him that things had finally led! She shrank from him almost visibly, and longed unutterably for retreat; but consciousness of her disastrous concerns pressed like a red-hot weight on her brain.
Purcell, never removing his eyes from her downcast face, waited. If Julie by some chance had glanced up at that moment!—but that abysmal ignorance concerning human nature which her uncle had deplored blinded her to the subtleties in which she was about to become enmeshed.
She lifted her eyes with a terrible effort, and Purcell immediately dropped his.
“Miss Hope says that you are advancing money out of the Treasury to the teachers, till their salaries arrive.”
Purcell made a sudden movement, but did not speak.
“I have come on that errand. When my money comes I will repay you promptly.”
Still studying the flushed, downcast face of the girl, Purcell reached out his arm to the safe and began to move the knob of the combination. “How much do you wish?” he asked in a low voice.