Her own Way by Eglanton Thorne

THE following day was oppressively hot, and Juliet felt no inclination to go abroad. Her room, being immediately below the roof, grew like an oven as the heat of the day increased; her head throbbed, the odours which rose from the kitchen sickened her, but she chose to remain in her room rather than encounter again the curious gaze of strangers. Adolphe waited upon her at mealtimes, and showed himself prompt and eager in serving her; but her appetite failed in the stifling atmosphere, and the dishes he set out with such care were left almost untasted.

How the leaden hours passed Juliet hardly knew. She could not read, she could hardly think connectedly. A kind of stupor possessed her as she lay back in the crimson velvet chair; but every now and then sharp, clear visions of the past would cross her mind, stinging her into bitter consciousness of her sin and folly. Sometimes the face of the lady who had looked at her so kindly and spoken so gently would come back to her, and she would ask herself where she had seen her before, or of whom it could be that the stranger reminded her.

Juliet was resting with her eyes closed when a loud, plaintive "mew" made her start, and looking up she saw a cat standing at her open window regarding her with beseeching eyes. It was a tabby, very prettily marked, but thin and miserable-looking, which forlornly wandering across the roofs had lighted on Juliet's open window.

"Puss, puss, puss! " she called gently, fearing to frighten it.

The cat looked at her doubtfully, mistrusting perhaps the foreign accents.

"Mignon, mignon! " Juliet tried next, in her most ingratiating manner.

The cat uttered another imploring mew.

Juliet turned to the luncheon-tray which still stood on her table, hastily put together on a plate the most appetising scraps she could find, and placed the plate on the floor just below the window. The cat hesitated only for a moment; then apparently convinced of Juliet's kind intentions, she leaped from the window to the floor and began hungrily to devour the feast.

When she had licked the plate quite clean, she proceeded to wash herself daintily. Then she sat still and looked at Juliet with such friendly eyes that the girl ventured to draw near and gently stroke pussy's head. Madame la Chatte graciously permitted the caress, and even condescended to purr.

Juliet, delighted to have gained such a companion, fondled her rapturously; but when she lifted her into her lap, puss resented the familiarity, struggled to get free, and as soon as she was at liberty, walked to the crimson velvet couch, leapt on to it, and ensconced herself comfortably in its most remote corner. No matter. Juliet followed, seated herself by the cat's side, and continued to stroke her soft head. It was wonderful how much less lonely she felt, now that this feline wanderer had cast herself on her hospitality.

A little later madame, fresh from her toilette, with her hair crisply curled and coiled, and her corset tightly laced, came to pay her daily visit. She smiled as she saw the cat, and watched the interest which Juliet displayed in her. It struck her that the girl was very young and childlike, far too young to be staying without a guardian in Paris. She was devoured with curiosity concerning her, and began to question Juliet eagerly.

"Monsieur does not come, it seems," she said, "and mademoiselle has not heard from him. Is it not so? Is it that he knows where mademoiselle may be found? Mademoiselle will perhaps like to write to him? Shall I bring mademoiselle the ink and the paper and the pen?"

Juliet curtly declined the offer. Madame found her curiosity baffled at every turn. Her questions and insinuations alike failed to extract information.

"See here," said madame at last, laying on the table a newspaper she had brought in her hand, "mademoiselle can perhaps amuse herself with this. You see it is an English journal of yesterday. An Englishman who slept here last night left it behind him."

Juliet thanked her, and when madame had gone, she took up the paper, and glanced over its columns with indifferent eyes. Suddenly she saw words which startled her, and leaning forward eagerly read the following paragraph:

"SERIOUS CHARGE AGAINST ALGERNON CHALCOMBE.

"Algernon Chalcombe, the well-known music hall singer, was yesterday arrested in Paris on a charge of forgery. It appears that on Monday, he cashed in London a cheque for £200 which purported to be signed by Joseph Barham, manager of the Cold Harbour Music Hall. The signature was, however, a forgery, and was discovered to be such late on the following day. The matter being at once put in the hands of the police, they speedily discovered that Chalcombe had left London for the Continent. They at once telegraphed to the French police, with the result that Chalcombe was arrested on his arrival in Paris. There is a report that his affairs are desperately involved in consequence of gambling transactions. It is of course possible, and we sincerely hope it may be the case, that Mr. Chalcombe can establish his innocence of the crime of which he is accused. When arrested in Paris, he was accompanied by a young lady with whom he had travelled from Dover."

Juliet's head swam as she read the newspaper report. Algernon Chalcombe a gambler and a forger! Was it to such a one that she had been ready to entrust her future? Was it for the sake of such a man that she had left her home and the mother who loved her so tenderly? No, not for his sake. She could not so deceive herself. It was for her own sake, for the sake of the future he had painted to her in such brilliant hues. He himself had counted for little with her. Amongst the many strangely mingled sensations Juliet experienced at this moment, came a conviction that she had never truly loved this man, whom she had dared to think of marrying.