“But—Juliette?” he objected.
“Couldn’t you give her some money, and leave her there with—with some of her friends?”
He looked in surprise at the girl who was usually so sweet and gentle. Her words sounded heartless.
“How strangely you talk—as if you had taken a dislike to that poor orphan girl whom you have never even seen,” he said severely.
“Oh, forgive me!” she cried, frightened at his displeasure. Nestling closer to his side, she murmured: “It is naughty of me, I know, but I can’t help feeling jealous of that girl you like so much. She will come between us. We will never be as happy again as we were in this past year.”
“Nonsense!” he answered; but he was secretly pleased at her jealousy, although there was really no cause for it, as he hastened to assure her. “I am only thinking of what people will say,” he explained. “I am sure we should be happier without her, spoiled little beauty that she is. But she has no relative but me, and if I desert her people will say that it is all your fault. Do you realize this, my pet?”
Yes, she began to realize it with a sort of wonder. The fate of Juliette Ives, her bitter enemy, lay in her hands to make or mar. She knew that she could mold her noble husband to her will if she chose; could make Juliette Ives’ life infinitely bitter and hard. For a moment she was pleased with the thought, half tempted to use her power.
Then her better nature triumphed. She flung revenge to the winds.
“I cannot do it. I cannot be so mean,” she thought, with keen self-scorn. “Poor soul! Why should I blame her? We both suffered through his falsity, and now I will be her friend if she will let me.”
With all that she knew of Juliette, she did not fully comprehend the girl’s ignoble soul. She pitied her, and, out of a generous impulse, resolved to stand her friend.