"Oh, Julia, Julia!" said Mrs. Middleton bitterly, "has it come to this? I can see it all now!"
"What all can you see so distinctly?" asked Julia scornfully.
"I can understand what part you have had in causing Mr. Wilmot's death," answered Mrs. Middleton.
Julia turned ashy pale, and her mother continued—"Often in his ravings he spoke of a letter, a cruel letter he called it, and I heard it hinted that it was the receipt of that letter which brought on a relapse. Now you will tell me whether you wrote that letter, and if so, what were its contents?"
"I wonder how I'm expected to know what letter you mean," said Julia. "However, I did write to him and ask to be released from my engagement, and I had my reasons for so doing."
Mrs. Middleton sighed and said, "It is as I feared; on you, Julia, rests in a measure the cause of his death."
"Better call me a murderer at once. But I'll not stay for more abuse," said Julia, as she left the room.
When she was gone Mrs. Middleton buried her face in her hands, and sent forth sob after sob from her crushed heart—crushed by the sinfulness and mocking disobedience of her first born. While she was still weeping, Fanny stole softly from the apartment and went in quest of her sister. She found her, as she had expected, in her room, and going up to her threw her arms around her neck, and plead long and earnestly that she would go to Mr. Wilmot. But Julia's answer was ever the same, "No, I will not."
"And why will you not?" asked Fanny.
"Because," replied Julia, "Mr. Wilmot is nothing to me, and there is no reason why I should go to him, more than to any other lovesick youth who takes a fancy to send for me. You would not feel obliged to run if Bill Jeffrey should have the measles and send for you."