him, often enough, but he had never before
called her that. It was very cruel of him, and not like a husband to
use such a word to his wife, that had ever a loving word for him when
he came home, and was always waiting for him, so obliging and kind. Her
mother would vouch for that--she had often said she had a loving
nature.

Once she had walked unexpectedly into the little sitting-room at home,
and she had heard her mother saying to Horace--"Julia has a very loving
nature." Why didn't her mother come and say kind things to her now? She
was all alone. If her mother came and sat by her side--

She would like, if she could walk there, to get off the sofa and go to
look for her in that little sitting-room, at home. It was so cool in
there always, with the window open to the garden. There was a basket of
violets on the table. She wondered if they were there now. She would
like to put her lips, that were so hot and uncomfortable, down upon
them--

With difficulty she half turned on the sofa with the idea of reaching
them; but remembered as she did so that her mother had been dead for
years and years, and that there were no violets now.

She cried afresh, and held the empty glass to her lips in the hope a
forgotten drop might trickle down upon them.

Her mother had once scolded her--once when Horace had told tales--and
had said that she had broken her heart. But, for all that, she would
not have liked to hear her called a disgrace.

She wished her husband would come in and put her to bed. He would have
to do it alone to-night, as Maria was gone. Or perhaps old Susan would
come and help. Old Susan had carried her up to bed quite easily, last
night--when she was a child. No sticks, nor bother of people pushing
and dragging--had carried her up as light as a feather, and popped her
into her cool, soft bed, and tucked her up--

"Susan!" she called. "Susan!" And opened her aching eyes to look for
her; and cried again when she remembered why the old servant could not
come, and that she was not a child again any more.

A disgrace!

It wasn't a nice thing to say to such a good wife, and she so
afflicted! He had another name for her when she used to walk about like
other people--like the girl Grantley, for instance, that her husband
always came home from school with. She used to go to meet Horry,
herself, in those days, and go down to the river in the evening with
him, and sit on one of the chairs beneath the trees to watch