IN the great emergencies of life we feel, or we act, as ourdispositions incline us. But we never think. Mercy's mind was ablank as she descended the stairs. On her way down she wasconscious of nothing but the one headlong impulse to get to thelibrary in the shortest possible space of time. Arrived at thedoor, the impulse capriciously left her. She stopped on the mat,wondering why she had hurried herself, with time to spare. Herheart sank; the fever of her excitement changed suddenly to achill as she faced the closed door, and asked herself thequestion, Dare I go in?

Her own hand answered her. She lifted it to turn the handle ofthe lock. It dropped again helplessly at her side.

The sense of her own irresolution wrung from her a lowexclamation of despair. Faint as it was, it had apparently notpassed unheard. The door was opened from within--and Horace stoodbefore her.

He drew aside to let her pass into the room. But he neverfollowed her in. He stood in the doorway, and spoke to her,keeping the door open with his hand.

"Do you mind waiting here for me?" he asked.

She looked at him, in vacant surprise, doubting whether she hadheard him aright.

"It will not be for long," he went on. "I am far too anxious tohear what you have to tell me to submit to any needless delays.The truth is, I have had a message from Lady Janet."

(From Lady Janet! What could Lady Janet want with him, at a timewhen she was bent on composing herself in the retirement of herown room?)

"I ought to have said two messages," Horace proceeded. "The firstwas given to me on my way downstairs. Lady Janet wished to see meimmediately. I sent an excuse. A second message followed. LadyJanet would accept no excuse. If I refused to go to her I shouldbe merely obliging her to come to me. It is impossible to riskbeing interrupted in that way; my only alternative is to get thething over as soon as possible. Do you mind waiting?"

"Certainly not. Have you any idea of what Lady Janet wants withyou?"

"No. Whatever it is, she shall not keep me long away from you.You will be quite alone here; I have warned the servants not toshow any one in." With those words he left her.

Mercy's first sensation was a sensation of relief--soon lost in afeeling of shame at the weakness which could welcome anytemporary relief in such a position as hers. The emotion thusroused merged, in its turn, into a sense of impatient regret."But for Lady Janet's message," she thought to herself, "I mighthave known my fate by this time!"

The slow minutes followed each other drearily. She paced to andfro in the library, faster and faster, under the intolerableirritation, the maddening uncertainty, of her own suspense. Erelong, even the spacious room seemed to be too small for her. Thesober monotony of the long book-lined shelves oppressed andoffended her. She threw open the door which led into thedining-room, and dashed in, eager for a change of objects,athirst for more space and more air.

At the first step she checked herself; rooted to the spot, undera sudden revulsion of feeling which quieted her in an instant.

The room was only illuminated by the waning fire-light. A man wasobscurely visible, seated on the sofa, with his elbows on hisknees and his head resting on his hands. He looked up as the opendoor let in the light from the library lamps. The mellow glowreached his face and revealed Julian Gray.

Mercy was standing with her back to the light; her face beingnecessarily hidden in deep shadow. He recognized her by herfigure, and by the attitude into which it unconsciously fell.That unsought grace, that lithe long beauty of line, belonged tobut one woman in the house. He rose, and approached her.

"I have been wishing to see you," he said, "and hoping thataccident might bring about some such meeting as this."

He offered her a chair. Mercy hesitated before she took her seat.This was their first meeting alone since Lady Janet hadinterrupted her at the moment when she was about to confide toJulian the melancholy story of the past. Was he anxious to seizethe opportunity of returni ng to her confession? The terms inwhich he had addressed her seemed to imply it. She put thequestion to him in plain words

"I feel the deepest interest in hearing all that you have stillto confide to me," he answered. "But anxious as I may be, I willnot hurry you. I will wait, if you wish it."

"I am afraid I must own that I do wish it," Mercy rejoined. "Noton my account--but because my time is at the disposal of HoraceHolmcroft. I expect to see him in a few minutes."

"Could you give me those few minutes?" Julian asked. "I havesomething on my side to say to you which I think you ought toknow before you see any one--Horace himself included."

He spoke with a certain depression of tone which was notassociated with her previous experience of him. His face lookedprematurely old and careworn in the red light of the fire.Something had plainly happened to sadden and to disappoint himsince they had last met.

"I willingly offer you all the time that I have at my owncommand," Mercy replied. "Does what you have to tell me relate toLady Janet?"

He gave her no direct reply. "What I have to tell you of LadyJanet," he said, gravely, "is soon told. So far as she isconcerned you have nothing more to dread. Lady Janet knows all."

Even the heavy weight of oppression caused by the impendinginterview with Horace failed to hold its place in Mercy's mindwhen Julian answered her in those words.

"Come into the lighted room," she said, faintly. "It is tooterrible to hear you say that in the dark."

Julian followed her into the library. Her limbs trembled underher. She dropped into a chair, and shrank under his great brighteyes, as he stood by her side looking sadly down on her.

"Lady Janet knows all!" she repeated, with her head on herbreast, and the tears falling slowly over her cheeks. "Have youtold her?"

"I have said nothing to Lady Janet or to any one. Your confidenceis a sacred confidence to me, until you have spoken first."

"Has Lady Janet said anything to you?"

"Not a word. She has looked at you with the vigilant eyes oflove; she has listened to you with the quick hearing of love--andshe has found her own way to the truth. She will not speak of itto me-- she will not speak of it to any living creature. I onlyknow now how dearly she loved you. In spite of herself she clingsto you still. Her life, poor soul, has been a barren one;unworthy, miserably unworthy, of such a nature as hers. Hermarriage was loveless and childless. She has had admirers, butnever, in the higher sense of the word, a friend. All the bestyears of her life have been wasted in the unsatisfied longing forsomething to love. At the end of her life You have filled thevoid. Her heart has found its youth again, through You. At herage--at any age--is such a tie as this to be rudely broken at themere bidding of circumstances? No! She will suffer anything, riskanything, forgive anything, rather than own, even to herself,that she has been deceived in you. There is more than herhappiness at stake; there is pride, a noble pride, in such loveas hers, which will ignore the plainest discovery and deny themost unanswerable truth. I am firmly convinced--from my ownknowledge of her character, and from what I have observed in herto-day--that she will find some excuse for refusing to hear yourconfession. And more than that, I believe (if the exertion of herinfluence can do it) that she will leave no means untried ofpreventing you from acknowledging your true position here to anyliving creature. I take a serious responsibility on myself intelling you this--and I don't shrink from it. You ought to know,and you shall know, what trials and what temptations may yet liebefore you."

He paused--leaving Mercy time to compose herself, if she wishedto speak to him.

She felt that there was a necessity for her speaking to him. Hewas plainly not aware that Lady Janet had already written to herto defer her promised explanation. This circumstance was initself a confirmation of the opinion which he had expressed. Sheought to mention it to him; she tried to mention it to him. Butshe was not equal to the effort. The few simple words in which hehad touched on the tie that bound Lady Janet to her had wrung herheart. Her tears choked her. She could only sign to him to go on.

"You may wonder at my speaking so positively," he continued,"with nothing better than my own conviction to justify me. I canonly say that I have watched Lady Janet too closely to feel anydoubt. I saw the moment in which the truth flashed on her, asplainly as I now see you. It did not disclose itselfgradually--it burst on her, as it burst on me. She suspectednothing--she was frankly indignant at your sudden interferenceand your strange language--until the time came in which youpledged yourself to produce Mercy Merrick. Then (and then only)the truth broke on her mind, trebly revealed to her in yourwords, your voice, and your look. Then (and then only) I saw amarked change come over her, and remain in her while she remainedin the room. I dread to think of what she may do in the firstreckless despair of the discovery that she has made. Idistrust--though God knows I am not naturally a suspiciousman--the most apparently trifling events that are now takingplace about us. You have held nobly to your resolution to own thetruth. Prepare yourself, before the evening is over, to be triedand tempted again."

Mercy lifted her head. Fear took the place of grief in her eyes,as they rested in startled inquiry on Julian's face.

"How is it possible that temptation can come to me now?" sheasked.

"I will leave it to events to answer that question," he said."You will not have long to wait. In the meantime I have put youon your guard." He stooped, and spoke his next words earnestly,close at her ear. "Hold fast by the admirable courage which youhave shown thus far," he went on. "Suffer anything rather thansuffer the degradation of yourself. Be the woman whom I oncespoke of--the woman I still have in my mind--who can nobly revealthe noble nature that is in her. And never forget this-- my faithin you is as firm as ever!"

She looked at him proudly and gratefully.

"I am pledged to justify your faith in me," she said. "I have putit out of my own power to yield. Horace has my promise that Iwill explain everything to him, in this room."

Julian started.

"Has Horace himself asked it of you?" he inquired. "_He_, atleast, has no suspicion of the truth."

"Horace has appealed to my duty to him as his betrothed wife,"she answered. "He has the first claim to my confidence--heresents my silence, and he has a right to resent it. Terrible asit will be to open _his_ eyes to the truth, I must do it if heasks me."

She was looking at Julian while she spoke. The old longing toassociate with the hard trial of the confession the one man whohad felt for her, and believed in her, revived under anotherform. If she could only know, while she was saying the fatalwords to Horace, that Julian was listening too, she would beencouraged to meet the worst that could happen! As the ideacrossed her mind, she observed that Julian was looking toward thedoor through which they had lately passed. In an instant she sawthe means to her end. Hardly waiting to hear the few kindexpressions of sympathy and approval which he addressed to her,she hinted timidly at the proposal which she had now to make tohim.

"Are you going back into the next room?" she asked.

"Not if you object to it," he replied.

"I don't object. I want you to be there."

"After Horace has joined you?"

"Yes. After Horace has joined me."

"Do you wish to see me when it is over?"

She summoned her resolution, and told him frankly what she had inher mind.

"I want you to be near me while I am speaking to Horace," shesaid. "It will give me courage if I can feel that I am speakingto you as well as to him. I can count on _your_ sympathy--andsympathy is so precious to me now! Am I asking too much, if I askyou to leave the door unclosed when you go back to thedining-room? Think of the dreadful trial--to him as well as tome! I am only awoman; I am afraid I may sink under it, if I have no friend nearme. And I have no friend but you."

In those simple words she tried her powers of persuasion on himfor the first time.

Between perplexity and distress Julian was, for the moment, at aloss how to answer her. The love for Mercy which he dared notacknowledge was as vital a feeling in him as the faith in herwhich he had been free to avow. To refuse anything that she askedof him in her sore need--and, more even than that, to refuse tohear the confession which it had been her first impulse to maketo _him_--these were cruel sacrifices to his sense of what wasdue to Horace and of what was due to himself. But shrink as hemight, even from the appearance of deserting her, it wasimpossible for him (except under a reserve which was almostequivalent to a denial) to grant her request.

"All that I can do I will do," he said. "The doors shall be leftunclosed, and I will remain in the next room, on this condition,that Horace knows of it as well as you. I should be unworthy ofyour confidence in me if I consented to be a listener on anyother terms. You understand that, I am sure, as well as I do."

She had never thought of her proposal to him in this light.Woman-like, she had thought of nothing but the comfort of havinghim near her. She understood him now. A faint flush of shame roseon her pale cheeks as she thanked him. He delicately relieved herfrom her embarrassment by putting a question which naturallyoccurred under the circumstances.

"Where is Horace all this time?" he asked. "Why is he not here?"

"He has been called away," she answered, "by a message from LadyJanet."

The reply more than astonished Julian; it seemed almost to alarmhim. He returned to Mercy's chair; he said to her, eagerly, "Areyou sure?"

"Horace himself told me that Lady Janet had insisted on seeinghim."

"When?"

"Not long ago. He asked me to wait for him here while he wentupstairs."

Julian's face darkened ominously.

"This confirms my worst fears," he said. "Have _you_ had anycommunication with Lady Janet?"

Mercy replied by showing him his aunt's note. He read itcarefully through.

"Did I not tell you," he said, "that she would find some excusefor refusing to hear your confession? She begins by delaying it,simply to gain time for something else which she has it in hermind to do. When did you receive this note? Soon after you wentupstairs?"

"About a quarter of an hour after, as well as I can guess."

"Do you know what happened down here after you left us?"

"Horace told me that Lady Janet had offered Miss Roseberry theuse of her boudoir."

"Any more?"

"He said that you had shown her the way to the room."

"Did he tell you what happened after that?"

"No."

"Then I must tell you. If I can do nothing more in this seriousstate of things, I can at least prevent your being taken bysurprise. In the first place, it is right you should know that Ihad a motive for accompanying Miss Roseberry to the boudoir. Iwas anxious (for your sake) to make some appeal to her betterself--if she had any better self to address. I own I had doubtsof my success--judging by what I had already seen of her. Mydoubts were confirmed. In the ordinary intercourse of life Ishould merely have thought her a commonplace, uninterestingwoman. Seeing her as I saw her while we were alone--in otherwords, penetrating below the surface--I have never, in all my sadexperience, met with such a hopelessly narrow, mean, and lownature as hers. Understanding, as she could not fail to do, whatthe sudden change in Lady Janet's behavior toward her reallymeant, her one idea was to take the cruelest possible advantageof it. So far from feeling any consideration for _you_, she wasonly additionally imbittered toward you. She protested againstyour being permitted to claim the merit of placing her in herright position here by your own voluntary avowal of the truth.She insisted on publicly denouncing you, and on forcing LadyJanet to dismiss you, unheard, before the whole household! 'Now Ican have my revenge! At last Lady Janet is afraid of me!' Thosewere her own words--I am almost ashamed to repeat them--those, onmy honor, were her own words! Every possible humiliation to beheaped on you; no consideration to be shown for Lady Janet's ageand Lady Janet's position; nothing, absolutely nothing, to beallowed to interfere with Miss Roseberry's vengeance and MissRoseberry's triumph! There is this woman's shameless view of whatis due to her, as stated by herself in the plainest terms. I keptmy temper; I did all I could to bring her to a better frame ofmind. I might as well have pleaded--I won't say with a savage;savages are sometimes accessible to remonstrance, if you know howto reach them--I might as well have pleaded with a hungry animalto abstain from eating while food was within its reach. I hadjust given up the hopeless effort in disgust, when Lady Janet'smaid appeared with a message for Miss Roseberry from hermistress: 'My lady's compliments, ma'am, and she will be glad tosee you at your earliest convenience, in her room.'"

Another surprise! Grace Roseberry invited to an interview withLady Janet! It would have been impossible to believe it, ifJulian had not heard the invitation given with his own ears.

"She instantly rose," Julian proceeded. "'I won't keep herladyship waiting a moment,' she said; 'show me the way.' Shesigned to the maid to go out of the room first, and then turnedround and spoke to me from the door. I despair of describing theinsolent exultation of her manner. I can only repeat her words:'This is exactly what I wanted! I had intended to insist onseeing Lady Janet: she saves me the trouble. I am infinitelyobliged to her.' With that she nodded to me, and closed the door.I have not seen her, I have not heard of her, since. For all Iknow, she may be still with my aunt, and Horace may have foundher there when he entered the room."

"What can Lady Janet have to say to her?" Mercy asked, eagerly.

"It is impossible even to guess. When you found me in thedining-room I was considering that very question. I cannotimagine that any neutral ground can exist on which it is possiblefor Lady Janet and this woman to meet. In her present frame ofmind she will in all probability insult Lady Janet before she hasbeen five minutes in the room. I own I am completely puzzled. Theone conclusion I can arrive at is that the note which my auntsent to you, the private interview with Miss Roseberry which hasfollowed, and the summons to Horace which has succeeded in itsturn, are all links in the same chain of events, and are alltending to that renewed temptation against which I have alreadywarned you."

Mercy held up her hand for silence. She looked toward the doorthat opened on the hall; had she heard a footstep outside? No.All was still. Not a sign yet of Horace's return.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "what would I not give to know what is goingon upstairs!"

"You will soon know it now," said Julian. "It is impossible thatour present uncertainty can last much longer."

He turned away, intending to go back to the room in which she hadfound him. Looking at her situation from a man's point of view,he naturally assumed that the best service he could now render toMercy would be to leave her to prepare herself for the interviewwith Horace. Before he had taken three steps away from her sheshowed him the difference between the woman's point of view andthe man's. The idea of considering beforehand what she should saynever entered her mind. In her horror of being left by herself atthat critical moment, she forgot every other consideration. Eventhe warning remembrance of Horace's jealous distrust of Julianpassed away from her, for the moment, as completely as if itnever had a place in her memory. "Don't leave me!" she cried. "Ican't wait here alone. Come back--come back!"

She rose impulsively while she spoke, as if to follow him intothe dining-room, if he persisted in leaving her.

A momentary expression of doubt crossed Julian's face as heretraced his steps and signed to her to be seated a gain. Couldshe be depended on (he asked himself) to sustain the coming testof her resolution, when she had not courage enough to wait forevents in a room by herself? Julian had yet to learn that awoman's courage rises with the greatness of the emergency. Askher to accompany you through a field in which some harmlesscattle happen to be grazing, and it is doubtful, in nine casesout of ten, if she will do it. Ask her, as one of the passengersin a ship on fire, to help in setting an example of composure tothe rest, and it is certain, in nine cases out of ten, that shewill do it. As soon as Julian had taken a chair near her, Mercywas calm again.

"Are you sure of your resolution?" he asked.

"I am certain of it," she answered, "as long as you don't leaveme by myself."

The talk between them dropped there. They sat together insilence, with their eyes fixed on the door, waiting for Horace tocome in.

After the lapse of a few minutes their attention was attracted bya sound outside in the grounds. A carriage of some sort wasplainly audible approaching the house.

The carriage stopped; the bell rang; the front door was opened.Had a visitor arrived? No voice could be heard making inquiries.No footsteps but the servant's footsteps crossed the hall. Alongpause followed, the carriage remaining at the door. Instead ofbringing some one to the house, it had apparently arrived to takesome one away.

The next event was the return of the servant to the front door.They listened again. Again no second footstep was audible. Thedoor was closed; the servant recrossed the hall; the carriage wasdriven away. Judging by sounds alone, no one had arrived at thehouse, and no one had left the house.

Julian looked at Mercy. "Do you understand this?" he asked.

She silently shook her head.

"If any person has gone away in the carriage," Julian went on,"that person can hardly have been a man, or we must have heardhim in the hall."

The conclusion which her companion had just drawn from thenoiseless departure of the supposed visitor raised a sudden doubtin Mercy's mind.

"Go and inquire!" she said, eagerly.

Julian left the room, and returned again, after a brief absence,with signs of grave anxiety in his face and manner.

"I told you I dreaded the most trifling events that were passingabout us," he said. "An event, which is far from being trifling,has just happened. The carriage which we heard approaching alongthe drive turns out to have been a cab sent for from the house.The person who has gone away in it--"

"Is a woman, as you supposed?"

"Yes."

Mercy rose excitedly from her chair.

"It can't be Grace Roseberry?" she exclaimed.

"It _is_ Grace Roseberry."

"Has she gone away alone?"

"Alone--after an interview with Lady Janet."

"Did she go willingly?"

"She herself sent the servant for the cab."

"What does it mean?"

"It is useless to inquire. We shall soon know."

They resumed their seats, waiting, as they had waited already,with their eyes on the library door.