I rejoice in
your good fortune, and I beg that you will let no false ideas
with regard to me trouble your mind.

"This afternoon at five, if you can forgive me, you will find
me. In the early afternoon I shall be in the British Museum,
for my work's sake."

She posted her letter, and went about her daily housework, oppressed the
while by a mental and moral nausea. As she washed and tidied and dusted,
a true housewife's love growing up in her for the little house and its
charming, old-world appointments--a sort of mute relation between her
and it, as though it accepted her for mistress, and she on her side
vowed it a delicate and prudent care--she thought how she could have
delighted in this life which had opened upon her had it come to her a
year ago. The tasks set her by Meredith were congenial and within her
power. Her independence gave her the keenest pleasure. The effort and
conquests of the intellect--she had the mind to love them, to desire
them; and the way to them was unbarred.

What plucked her back?

A tear fell upon the old china cup that she was dusting. A sort of
maternal element had entered into her affection for Warkworth during the
winter. She had upheld him and fought for him. And now, like a mother,
she could not tear the unworthy object from her heart, though all the
folly of their pseudo-friendship and her secret hopes lay bare
before her.

* * * * *

Warkworth came at five.

He entered in the dusk; a little pale, with his graceful head thrown
back, and that half-startled, timid look in his wide, blue eyes--that
misleading look--which made him the boy still, when he chose.

Julie was standing near the window as he came in. As she turned and saw
him there, a flood of tenderness and compunction swept over her. He was
going away. What if she never saw him again?

She shuddered and came forward rapidly, eagerly. He read the meaning of
her movement, her face; and, wringing her hands with a violence that
hurt her, he drew a long breath of relief.

"Why--why"--he said, under his breath--"have you made me so unhappy?"

The blood leaped in her veins. These, indeed, were new words in a new
tone.

"Don't let us reproach each other," she said. "There is so much to say.
Sit down."

To-day there were no beguiling spring airs. The fire burned merrily in
the grate; the windows were closed.

A scent of narcissus--the Duchess had filled the tab