e in her head, and memories of her
mother's bare little salon in Bruges, with its good talk, and its
thinnest of thin refreshments--a few cups of weak tea, or glasses of
_eau sucree_, with a plate of _patisserie_.

The hired parlor-maid was whistling for a cab in the service of some
other departing guest; so Julie herself put Lord Lackington into his
coat, much to his discomfort.

"I don't think you ought to have come," she said to him, with soft
reproach. "Why did you have that fainting fit before dinner?"

"I say! Who's been telling tales?"

"Sir Wilfrid Bury met your son, Mr. Chantrey, at dinner."

"Bill can never hold his tongue. Oh, it was nothing; not with the proper
treatment, mind you. Of course, if the allopaths were to get their
knives into me--but, thank God! I'm out of that _galere_. Well, in a
fortnight, isn't it? We shall both be in town again. I don't like saying
good-bye."

And he took both her hands in his.

"It all seems so strange to me still--so strange!" he murmured.

"Next week I shall see mamma's grave," said Julie, under her breath.
"Shall I put some flowers there for you?"

The fine blue eyes above her wavered. He bent to her.

"Yes. And write to me. Come back soon. Oh, you'll see. Things will all
come right, perfectly right, in spite of Lady Henry."

Confidence, encouragement, a charming raillery, an enthusiastic
tenderness--all these beamed upon her from the old man's tone and
gesture. She was puzzled. But with another pressure of the hand he was
gone. She stood looking after him. And as the carriage drove away, the
sound of the wheels hurt her. It was the withdrawal of something
protecting--something more her own, when all was said, than anything
else which remained to her.

As she returned to the drawing-room, Dr. Meredith intercepted her.

"You want me to send you some work to take abroad?" he said, in a low
voice. "I shall do nothing of the kind."

"Why?"

"Because you ought to have a complete holiday."

"Very well. Then I sha'n't be able to pay my way," she said, with a
tired smile.

"Remember the doctor's bills if you fall ill."

"Ill! I am never ill," she said, with scorn. Then she looked round the
room deliberately, and her gaze returned to her companion. "I am not
likely to be fatigued with society, am I?" she added, in a voice that
did not attempt to disguise the bitterness within.

"My dear lady, you are hardly installed."

"I have been here a month--the cr