‘Let her know that her son is here, in some way,’ Juley resumed.

‘And, egad! what an explosion!’ pursued Harry.  ‘But, suppose—­’

’No one shall know, if you leave it to me-if you do just as I tell you, Harry.  You won’t be treated as you were this evening after that, if you bring down her pride.  And, Harry, I hear you want money—­I can give you some.’

‘You’re a perfect trump, Juley!’ exclaimed her enthusiastic cousin.

‘But, no; I can’t take it.  I must kiss you, though.’

He put a kiss upon her cheek.  Once his kisses had left a red waxen stamp; she was callous to these compliments now.

‘Will you do what I advise you to-morrow?’ she asked.

After a slight hesitation, during which the olive-hued visage flitted faintly in the distances of his brain, Harry said: 

’It ‘ll do Rose good, and make Harrington cut.  Yes!  I declare I will.’

Then they parted.  Juliana went to her bed-room, and flung herself upon the bed hysterically.  As the tears came thick and fast, she jumped up to lock the door, for this outrageous habit of crying had made her contemptible in the eyes of Lady Jocelyn, and an object of pity to Rose.  Some excellent and noble natures cannot tolerate disease, and are mystified by its ebullitions.  It was very sad to see the slight thin frame grasped by those wan hands to contain the violence of the frenzy that possessed her! the pale, hapless face rigid above the torment in her bosom!  She had prayed to be loved like other girls, and her readiness to give her heart in return had made her a by-word in the house.  She went to the window and leaned out on the casement, looking towards Fallowfield over the downs, weeping bitterly, with a hard shut mouth.  One brilliant star hung above the ridge, and danced on her tears.

‘Will he forgive me?’ she murmured.  ’Oh, my God!  I wish we were dead together!’

Her weeping ceased, and she closed the window, and undressed as far away from the mirror as she could get; but its force was too much for her, and drew her to it.  Some undefined hope had sprung in her suddenly.  With nervous slow steps she approached the glass, and first brushing back the masses of black hair from her brow, looked as for some new revelation.  Long and anxiously she perused her features:  the wide bony forehead; the eyes deep-set and rounded with the scarlet of recent tears, the thin nose-sharp as the dead; the weak irritable mouth and sunken cheeks.  She gazed like a spirit disconnected from what she saw.  Presently a sort of forlorn negative was indicated by the motion of her head.

‘I can pardon him,’ she said, and sighed.  ’How could he love such a face!’

CHAPTER XXX

THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS.  PART I