“Why should she deceive us?” cried Rosalind.
“Oh, she had some hidden design in it, of course. She is naturally deceitful. I never liked her from the first!” Juliette cried peevishly, goaded to jealous anger by their declaration that they were fond of Pansy.
“Well, you ought to know, of course, having lived in the same house with her,” exclaimed Rosalind, in astonishment, adding: “But I never should have supposed that dear little thing could be deceitful and designing.”
“Nor I, for she always seemed so frank and open,” said her mother. “Indeed, I had taken a great fancy to her.”
Every word stung Juliette more deeply, for she hated Pansy with an intense hatred. She would have hated her for marrying her uncle if for nothing else, but added to this was always her suspicion of Pansy’s identity, and this fanned the fire of her rage into fury.
She made an excuse for leaving the Wyldes, that she might give full vent, in the privacy of her own room, to the spite that possessed her, and then Rosalind observed:
“Mamma, I do not think Juliette quite does justice to Mrs. Falconer. She hates her because she married Colonel Falconer and disappointed her expectations of getting all her uncle’s money.”
“That is it,” replied Mrs. Wylde. “Mrs. Falconer is without doubt a charming woman, and Juliette’s suspicions of her deceitfulness have their sole origin in nothing but envy and jealousy.”
While Juliette, alone in her own room, was saying bitterly:
“Oh, yes, they have fallen in love with her, have they? That is because she is the rich Mrs. Falconer. They have no admiration to spare for Norman’s sweetheart, the poor little tobacco-factory girl, who was quite as beautiful, innocent, and charming as my uncle’s proud wife.”