There was that in his tone that quelled all rebellion.  Vera shrank closer to Juliet, but she began to make some feeble efforts to subdue her wild distress.  Fielding sat on the edge of the bed, her hand firmly in his, and waited.  His expression was one of absolute and implacable determination.  He looked so forbidding and so formidable that Juliet wondered a little at her own temerity in remaining.  She decided then and there that a serious disagreement with the squire would be too great a tax upon any woman’s strength, and she did not wonder that Vera’s had broken down under it.

Suddenly he spoke.  “Has she had any breakfast?”

“Not yet,” said Juliet.

“Oh, don’t!” implored Vera, with a shudder.

He got up and went to the untouched tray.  Juliet watched him pour out some tea as she smoothed the tumbled hair back from his wife’s forehead.

He came back with the cup in his hand.  “Now,” he said, “you are going to drink this.”

She lifted scared eyes to his stern face.  “Edward!” she whispered.  “Don’t—­oh, don’t look at me like that!”

He stooped over her, and put the cup to her lips.  She drank, quivering, not daring to refuse.  When she had finished he brought her bread and butter and fed her, mouthful by mouthful, while the tears ran silently down her face.

At last he turned again to Juliet.  “Miss Moore, my wife will not object to your leaving us now.”

It was a distinct command.  But she hesitated to obey.  Vera looked up at her piteously, saying no word.  The squire frowned heavily, his eyes grimly, piercingly, upon Juliet.

She met his look with steady resolution.  “Won’t you leave her to rest for a little while?” she said.  “I think she needs it.”

“Very well,” he said, and though he did not look like yielding she realized to her surprise that he had done so.  He turned to the door.  “I should like a word with you in the library,” he said, as he reached it.  “Please come to me there immediately!”

He was gone.  Vera turned with a sob and clasped Juliet closely to her.

“He is going to send you away.  I know he is,” she wailed.  “What shall I do?  What shall I do?”

“Lie down!” said Juliet sensibly, releasing herself to settle the tumbled bedclothes.  “Don’t cry any more!  Just shut your eyes and lie still!”

She laid her down upon the pillow with the words as if she had been a child, smoothed the rumpled hair again, and after a moment bent and kissed the hot forehead.

“Oh, thank you!” murmured Mrs. Fielding.  “I’m dreadfully unhappy, Juliet.  I don’t know what I shall do without you.”

“Go to sleep!” said Juliet, tucking her up.  “I’ll come back presently.  Lie quite still till I do!”

She guessed that exhaustion would come to her aid in this particular as she drew the curtains close and turned away to face her own ordeal.

“Come back soon!” Vera called after her as she softly shut the door.