The Ashiel Mystery | Page 5

between Sir Arthur and his wife.
The day came on which Lady Byrne could not resist drawing Juliet's attention to her unfortunate circumstances. In a heated moment, induced by the girl's refusal to meet her half-way when she was conscious of having made an unusual effort to be friendly, she pointed out to Juliet that it would be more becoming in her to show some gratitude to people on whose charity she was living, and on whom she had absolutely no claim of blood at all.
The interview ended by Juliet flying to Sir Arthur, and begging, while she wept on his shoulder, to be allowed to go away and work for her living; though where and how she proposed to do this she did not specify.
Sir Arthur had a bad quarter of an hour. His conscience, the knowledge of the extent to which he shared his second wife's feelings, the remembrance of the vows he had made on the subject to his first wife, these and the old, if not very strong, affection he had for Juliet, combined to stir in him feelings of compunction which showed themselves in an outburst of irritability. He scolded Juliet; he blamed his wife.
"Why," he asked them both, "can two women not live in the same house without quarrelling? Is it impossible for a wretched man ever to have a moment's peace?"
In the end, he worked himself into such a passion that Lady Byrne and Juliet were driven to a reconciliation, and found themselves defending each other against his reproaches.
After this they got on better together.
CHAPTER II
One hot summer day, a few months after the marriage, Juliet, returning to the consulate after a morning spent in very active exercise upon a tennis court, was met on the doorstep by Dora, the youngest of the Clarency Butchers, who was awaiting her approach in a high state of excitement.
"Hurry up, Juliet," she cried, as soon as she could make herself heard. "You'll never guess what there is for you. Something you don't often get!"
"What is it?" said Juliet, coming up the steps.
"Guess!"
"A present?"
"No; at least I suppose not; but there may be one inside."
"Inside? Oh, then it's a parcel?" asked Juliet good-humouredly.
She felt a mild curiosity, tempered by the knowledge that many things provided a thrill for the ten-year-old Dora, which she, from the advanced age of twenty-three, could not look upon as particularly exciting.
"No, not a parcel," cried Dora, dancing round her. "It's a letter. There now!"
"Then why do you say it's something I don't often get?" asked Juliet suspiciously; "I often get letters. It's an invitation to the Gertign��s' dance, I expect."
"No, no, it isn't. It's a letter from England. You don't often get one from there, now, do you? You never did before since we've been here. I always examine your letters, you know," said Dora, "to see if they look as if they came from young men. So does Margaret. We think it's time you got engaged."
Margaret was the next sister.
"It's very good of you to take such an interest in my fate," Juliet replied, as she pulled off her gloves and went to the side-table for the letter. As a matter of fact she was a good deal excited now; for what the child said was true enough. She might even have gone further, and said that she had never had a letter from England, except while Sir Arthur was there on leave.
It was a large envelope, addressed in a clerk's handwriting, and she came to the conclusion, as she tore it open, that it must be an advertisement from some shop.
"DEAR MADAM,--We shall esteem it a favour if you can make it convenient to call upon us one day next week, upon a matter of business connected with a member of your family. It is impossible to give you further details in a letter; but if you will grant us the interview we venture to ask, we may go so far as to say that there appears to us to be a reasonable probability of the result being of advantage to yourself. Trusting that you will let us have an immediate reply, in which you will kindly name the day and hour when we may expect to see you.--We are, yours faithfully,
"FINDLAY & INGE, Solicitors."
The address was a street in Holborn.
Juliet read the letter through, and straightway read it through again, with a beating heart. What did it mean? Was it possible she was going to find her own family at last?
She was recalled to the present by the voice of Dora, whom she now perceived to be reading the letter over her shoulder with unblushing interest.
"Say," said Dora, "isn't it exciting? 'Something to your advantage!' Just what they put in the agony column when they leave you a fortune. I