n humanity forbade it. She must, for a time at least, be nursed in
the place where she was taken ill.

So she was carried indoors and laid in the best bedroom, which was a
gloomy-looking place until Janetta began to make reforms in it. When she
had put fresh curtains to the windows, and set flowers on the
window-sill, and banished some of the old black furniture, the room
looked a trifle more agreeable, and there was nothing on which poor
Juliet Brand's eye could dwell with positive dislike or dissatisfaction
when she came to herself. But for some time she lay at the very point of
death, and it seemed to Janetta and to all the watchers at the bedside
that Mrs. Wyvis Brand could not long continue in the present world.

Mrs. Brand the elder seldom came into the room. She showed a singular
horror of her daughter-in-law: she would not even willingly speak of
her. She pleaded her ill-health as an excuse for not taking her share of
the nursing; and when it seemed likely that Janetta would be worn out by
it, she insisted that a nurse from the Beaminster Hospital should be
procured. "It will not be for long," she said gloomily, when Janetta
spoke regretfully of the expense. For Janetta was chief cashier and
financier in the household.

But it appeared as if she were mistaken. Mrs. Brand did not die, as
everybody expected. She lay for a time in a very weak state, and then
began gradually to recover strength. Before long, she was able to
converse, and then she showed a preference for Janetta's society which
puzzled the girl not a little. For Julian she also showed some fondness,
but he sometimes wearied, sometimes vexed her, and a visit of a very few
minutes sufficed for both mother and son. Julian himself exhibited not
only dislike but terror of her. He tried to run away and hide when the
hour came for his daily visit to his mother's room; and when Janetta
spoke to him on the subject rather anxiously, he burst into tears and
avowed he was afraid.

"Afraid of what?" said Janetta.

But he only sobbed and would not tell.

"She can't hurt you, Julian, dear. She is ill and weak and lonely; and
she loves you. It's not kind and loving of you to run away."

"I don't want to be unkind."

"Or unloving?" said Janetta.

"I don't love her," the boy answered, and bit his lip. His eye flashed
for a moment, and then he looked down as if he were ashamed of the
confession.

"Julian, dear? Your mother?"

"I can't help it. She hasn't