"Julia," replied Miss Wycherly, breathing hard, "I cannot bear to see Spottiswoode with another person. I cannot witness his attention to Lady Anna. I will remain here till _they_ are gone, or I should die upon the spot. If you could understand my miserable feelings, you would pity me, and my own folly has produced them!" Miss Wycherly walked about the library in great distress, which pierced her friend's heart to witness. She could only offer her sympathy, and urge her change of manners towards Mr. Tyndal. Grief produces many effects; on some minds the hand of sorrow falls heavily, yet it originates patience and gentleness; in others, it produces irritation and increased violence of temper. It was so with Miss Wycherly, whose spirit chafed at the remembrance of her own folly, and even attacked the prudent counsel of her friend. "I tell you, Julia, I am ready to spurn the Tyndals from my sight; for who can despise them more than I do?--but it is useless to place before me, so pertinaciously, my folly in having borne with them. I am well aware of my error, without requiring any one to heap my transgressions before my eyes at every turn. Reproach never heals a wound." "I do not speak in reproach, Penelope," replied Julia, in accents that overcame Miss Wycherly's quick temper; "I only point out the means to serve you, because you asked me to do so." "Don't heed my words, Julia," exclaimed Miss Wycherly, continuing her restless walking up and down the library; "I speak in bitter misery, and know not what I say. Do not leave me, for I know you are kind, and not given to take offence, and I am almost maddened with vexation. Tell me what to do, Julia, and I swear to be guided by you." "I repeat my words, then, Penelope. Return with me into the drawing-room; do not give Mr. Henry Tyndal all your attention, and bear with Mr. Spottiswoode's attention to Lady Anna: it will not last long." "Oh, Julia!" sighed Miss Wycherly, "if I could but think you a true prophet--but I will do as you wish; I will try to bear the sight of Lady Anna, but the idea gives me a shuddering fit. See how I tremble." "You do tremble, Penelope, but a determined effort will subdue it." Julia rubbed Miss Wycherly's hands, which were deadly cold, and replaced her hat, as the poor girl sat trembling, and incapable of assisting herself. Julia also smoothed the curls which fell in abundance upon her pale cheeks. "And now, Penelope, take my arm, and let us take one steady turn through the room, to try your powers." Miss Wycherly took Julia's offered arm, and proceeded towards the door. "Let us go into the drawing-room at once," she said. "With you I have given way, because I am assured of your sympathy and secrecy; but to no other eye will I betray my repentance or my sorrow. I may look ill--I am ill--but no one shall say Penelope Wycherly pines for Charles Spottiswoode."