THE narrative leaves Lady Janet and Horace Holmcroft together,and returns to Julian and Mercy in the library.

An interval passed--a long interval, measured by the impatientreckoning of suspense--after the cab which had taken GraceRoseberry away had left the house. The minutes followed eachother; and still the warning sound of Horace's footsteps was notheard on the marble pavement of the hall. By common (thoughunexpressed) consent, Julian and Mercy avoided touching upon theone subject on which they were now both interested alike. Withtheir thoughts fixed secretly in vain speculation on the natureof the interview which was then taking place in Lady Janet'sroom, they tried to speak on topics indifferent to both ofthem--tried, and failed, and tried again. In a last and longestpause of silence between them, the next event happened. The doorfrom the hall was softly and suddenly opened.

Was it Horace? No--not even yet. The person who had opened thedoor was only Mercy's maid.

"My lady's love, miss; and will you please to read thisdirectly?"

Giving her message in those terms, the woman produced from thepocket of her apron Lady Janet's second letter to Mercy, with astrip of paper oddly pinned round the envelope. Mercy detachedthe paper, and found on the inner side some lines in pencil,hurriedly written in Lady Janet's hand. They ran thus.

"Don't lose a moment in reading my letter. And mind this, when H.returns to you--meet him firmly: say nothing."

Enlightened by the warning words which Julian had spoken to her,Mercy was at no loss to place the right interpretation on thosestrange lines. Instead of immediately opening the letter, shestopped the maid at the library door. Julian's suspicion of themost trifling events that were taking place in the house hadfound its way from his mind to hers. "Wait!" she said. "I don'tunderstand what is going on upstairs; I want to ask yousomething."

The woman came back--not very willingly.

"How did you know I was here?" Mercy inquired.

"If you please, miss, her ladyship ordered me to take the letterto you some little time since. You were not in your room, and Ileft it on your table."

"I understand that. But how came you to bring the letter here?"

"My lady rang for me, miss. Before I could knock at her door shecame out into the corridor with that morsel of paper in herhand--"

"So as to keep you from entering her room?"

"Yes, miss. Her ladyship wrote on the paper in a great hurry, andtold me to pin it round the letter that I had left in your room.I was to take them both together to you, and to let nobody seeme. 'You will find Miss Roseberry in the library' (her ladyshipsays), 'and run, run, run! there isn't a moment to lose!' Thosewere her own words, miss."

"Did you hear anything in the room before Lady Janet came out andmet you?"

The woman hesitated, and looked at Julian.

"I hardly know whether I ought to tell you, miss."

Julian turned away to leave the library. Mercy stopped him by amotion of her hand.

"You know that I shall not get you into any trouble," she said tothe maid. "And you may speak quite safely before Mr. JulianGray."

Thus re-assured, the maid spoke.

"To own the truth, miss, I heard Mr. Holmcroft in my lady's room.His voice sounded as if he was angry. I may say they were bothangry--Mr. Holmcroft and my lady." (She turned to Julian.) "Andjust before her ladyship came out, sir, I heard your name, as ifit was you they were having words about. I can't say exactly whatit was; I hadn't time to hear. And I didn't listen, miss; thedoor was ajar; and the voices were so loud nobody could helphearing them."

It was useless to detain the woman any longer. Having given herleave to withdraw, Mercy turned to Julian.

"Why were they quarreling about you?" she asked.

Julian pointed to the unopened letter in her hand.

"The answer to your question may be there," he said. "Read theletter while you have the chance. And if I can advise you, say soat once."

With a strange reluctance she opened the envelope. With a sinkingheart she read the lines in which Lady Janet, as "mother andfriend," commanded her absolutely to suppress the confessionwhich she had pledged herself to make in the sacred interests ofjustice and truth. A low cry of despair escaped her, as the cruelcomplication in her position revealed itself in all its unmeritedhardship. "Oh, Lady Janet, Lady Janet!" she thought, "there wasbut one trial more left in my hard lot--and it comes to me from_you!_"

She handed the letter to Julian. He took it from her in silence.His pale complexion turned paler still as he read it. His eyesrested on her compassionately as he handed it back.

"To my mind," he said, "Lady Janet herself sets all further doubtat rest. Her letter tells me what she wanted when she sent forHorace, and why my name was mentioned between them."

"Tell me!" cried Mercy, eagerly.

He did not immediately answer her. He sat down again in the chairby her side, and pointed to the letter.

"Has Lady Janet shaken your resolution?" he asked.

"She has strengthened my resolution," Mercy answered. "She hasadded a new bitterness to my remorse."

She did not mean it harshly, but the reply sounded harshly inJulian's ears. It stirred the generous impulses, which were thestrongest impulses in his nature. He who had once pleaded withMercy for compassionate consideration for herself now pleadedwith her for compassionate consideration for Lady Janet. Withpersuasive gentleness he drew a little nearer, and laid his handon her arm.

"Don't judge her harshly," he said. "She is wrong, miserablywrong. She has recklessly degraded herself; she has recklesslytempted you. Still, is it generous--is it even just--to hold herresponsible for deliberate sin? She is at the close of her days;she can feel no new affection; she can never replace you. Viewher position in that light, and you will see (as I see) that itis no base motive which has led her astray. Think of her woundedheart and her wasted life--and say to yourself forgivingly, Sheloves me!"

Mercy's eyes filled with tears.

"I do say it!" she answered. "Not forgivingly--it is _I_ who haveneed of forgiveness. I say it gratefully when I think of her--Isay it with shame and sorrow when I think of myself."

He took her hand for the first time. He looked, guiltlesslylooked, at her downcast face. He spoke as he had spoken at thememorable interview between them which had made a new woman ofher.

"I can imagine no crueler trial," he said, "than the trial thatis now before you. The benefactress to whom you owe everythingasks nothing from you but your silence. The person whom you havewronged is no longer present to stimulate your resolution tospeak. Horace himself (unless I am entirely mistaken) will nothold you to the explanation that you have promised. Thetemptation to keep your false position in this house is, I do notscruple to say, all but irresistible. Sister and friend! can youstill justify my fa ith in you? Will you still own the truth,without the base fear of discovery to drive you to it?"

She lifted her head, with the steady light of resolution shiningagain in her grand, gray eyes. Her low, sweet voice answered him,without a faltering note in it,

"I will!"

"You will do justice to the woman whom you have wronged--unworthyas she is; powerless as she is to expose you?"

"I will!"

"You will sacrifice everything you have gained by the fraud tothe sacred duty of atonement? You will suffer anything--eventhough you offend the second mother who has loved you and sinnedfor you-- rather than suffer the degradation of yourself?"

Her hand closed firmly on his. Again, and for the last time, sheanswered,

"I will!"

His voice had not trembled yet. It failed him now. His next wordswere spoken in faint whispering tones--to himself; not to her.

"Thank God for this day!" he said. "I have been of some serviceto one of the noblest of God's creatures!"

Some subtle influence, as he spoke, passed from his hand to hers.It trembled through her nerves; it entwined itself mysteriouslywith the finest sensibilities in her nature; it softly opened herheart to a first vague surmising of the devotion that she hadinspired in him. A faint glow of color, lovely in its faintness,stole over her face and neck. Her breathing quickened tremblingly. She drew her hand away from him, and sighed when she hadreleased it.

He rose suddenly to his feet and left her, without a word or alook, walking slowly down the length of the room. When he turnedand came back to her, his face was composed; he was master ofhimself again.

Mercy was the first to speak. She turned the conversation fromherself by reverting to the proceedings in Lady Janet's room.

"You spoke of Horace just now," she said, "in terms whichsurprised me. You appeared to think that he would not hold me tomy explanation. Is that one of the conclusions which you drawfrom Lady Janet's letter?"

"Most assuredly," Julian answered. "You will see the conclusionas I see it if we return for a moment to Grace Roseberry'sdeparture from the house."

Mercy interrupted him there. "Can you guess," she asked, "howLady Janet prevailed upon her to go?"

"I hardly like to own it," said Julian. "There is an expressionin the letter which suggests to me that Lady Janet has offeredher money, and that she has taken the bribe."

"Oh, I can't think that!"

"Let us return to Horace. Miss Roseberry once out of the house,but one serious obstacle is left in Lady Janet's way. Thatobstacle is Horace Holmcroft."

"How is Horace an obstacle?"

"He is an obstacle in this sense. He is under an engagement tomarry you in a week's time; and Lady Janet is determined to keephim (as she is determined to keep every one else) in ignorance ofthe truth. She will do that without scruple. But the inbred senseof honor in her is not utterly silenced yet. She cannot, she darenot, let Horace make you his wife under the false impression thatyou are Colonel Roseberry's daughter. You see the situation? Onthe one hand, she won't enlighten him. On the other hand, shecannot allow him to marry you blindfold. In this emergency whatis she to do? There is but one alternative that I can discover.She must persuade Horace (or she must irritate Horace) intoacting for himself, and breaking off the engagement on his ownresponsibility."

Mercy stopped him. "Impossible!" she cried, warmly. "Impossible!"

"Look again at her letter," Julian rejoined. "It tells, youplainly that you need fear no embarrassment when you next meetHorace. If words mean anything, those words mean that he will notclaim from you the confidence which you have promised to reposein him. On what condition is it possible for him to abstain fromdoing that? On the one condition that you have ceased torepresent the first and foremost interest of his life."

Mercy still held firm. "You are wronging Lady Janet, " she said .

Julian smiled sadly.

"Try to look at it," he answered, ''from Lady Janet's point ofview. Do you suppose _she_ sees anything derogatory to her inattempting to break off the marriage? I will answer for it, shebelieves she is doing you a kindness. In one sense it _would_ bea kindness to spare you the shame of a humiliating confession,and to save you (possibly) from being rejected to your face bythe man you love. In my opinion, the thing is done already. Ihave reasons of my own for believing that my aunt will succeedfar more easily than she could anticipate. Horace's temper willhelp her."

Mercy's mind began to yield to him, in spite of herself.

"What do you mean by Horace's temper?" she inquired.

"Must you ask me that?" he said, drawing back a little from her.

"I must."

"I mean by Horace's temper, Horace's unworthy distrust of theinterest that I feel in you."

She instantly understood him. And more than that, she secretlyadmired him for the scrupulous delicacy with which he hadexpressed himself. Another man would not have thought of sparingher in that way. Another man would have said, plainly, "Horace isjealous of me."

Julian did not wait for her to answer him. He considerately wenton.

"For the reason that I have just mentioned," he said, "Horacewill be easily irritated into taking a course which, in hiscalmer moments, nothing would induce him to adopt. Until I heardwhat your maid said to you I had thought (for your sake) ofretiring before he joined you here. Now I know that my name hasbeen introduced, and has made mischief upstairs, I feel thenecessity (for your sake again) of meeting Horace and his temperface to face before you see him. Let me, if I can, prepare him tohear you without any angry feeling in his mind toward you. Do youobject to retire to the next room for a few minutes in the eventof his coming back to the library?"

Mercy's courage instantly rose with the emergency. She refused toleave the two men together.

"Don't think me insensible to your kindness," she said. "If Ileave you with Horace I may expose you to insult. I refuse to dothat. What makes you doubt his coming back?"

"His prolonged absence makes me doubt it," Julian replied. "In mybelief, the marriage is broken off. He may go as Grace Roseberryhas gone. You may never see him again."

The instant the opinion was uttered, it was practicallycontradicted by the man himself. Horace opened the library door.