"Stop?" repeated Lady Janet, sharply."I have given the man his orders.What do you mean?""Before you send the card I wish to say a word in private to this lady," replied Julian, indicating Grace."When that is done," he continued, approaching Mercy, and pointedly addressing himself to her, "I shall have a request to make--I shall ask you to give me an opportunity of speaking to you without interruption."His tone pointed the allusion.Mercy shrank from looking at him.The signs of painful agitation began to show themselves in her shifting color and her uneasy silence.Roused by Julian's significantly distant reference to what had passed between them, her better impulses were struggling already to recover their influence over her.She might, at that critical moment, have yielded to the promptings of her own nobler nature--she might have risen superior to the galling remembrance of the insults that had been heaped upon her--if Grace's malice had not seen in her hesitation a means of referring offensively once again to her interview with Julian Gray.
"Pray don't think twice about trusting him alone with me," she said, with a sardonic affectation of politeness." I am not interested in ****** a conquest of Mr.Julian Gray."The jealous distrust in Horace (already awakened by Julian's request) now attempted to assert itself openly.Before he could speak, Mercy's indignation had dictated Mercy's answer.
"I am much obliged to you, Mr.Gray," she said, addressing Julian (but still not raising her eyes to his)."I have nothing more to say.There is no need for me to trouble you again."In those rash words she recalled the confession to which she stood pledged.In those rash words she committed herself to keeping the position that she had usurped, in the face of the woman whom she had deprived of it!
Horace was silenced, but not satisfied.He saw Julian's eyes fixed in sad and searching attention on Mercy's face while she was speaking.He heard Julian sigh to himself when she had done.He observed Julian--after a moment's serious consideration, and a moment's glance backward at the stranger in the poor black clothes--lift his head with the air of a man who had taken a sudden resolution.
"Bring me that card directly," he said to the servant.His tone announced that he was not to be trifled with.The man obeyed.
Without answering Lady Janet--who still peremptorily insisted on her right to act for herself--Julian took the pencil from his pocketbook and added his signature to the writing already inscribed on the card.When he had handed it back to the servant he made his apologies to his aunt.
"Pardon me for venturing to interfere," he said "There is a serious reason for what I have done, which I will explain to you at a fitter time.In the meanwhile I offer no further obstruction to the course which you propose taking.On the contrary, I have just assisted you in gaining the end that you have in view."As he said that he held up the pencil with which he had signed his name.
Lady Janet, naturally perplexed, and (with some reason, perhaps) offended as well, made no answer.She waved her hand to the servant, and sent him away with the card.
There was silence in the room.The eyes of all the persons present turned more or less anxiously on Julian.Mercy was vaguely surprised and alarmed.Horace, like Lady Janet, felt offended, without clearly knowing why.Even Grace Roseberry herself was subdued by her own presentiment of some coming interference for which she was completely unprepared.Julian's words and actions, from the moment when he had written on the card, were involved in a mystery to which not one of the persons round him held the clew.
The motive which had animated his conduct may, nevertheless, be described in two words: Julian still held to his faith in the inbred nobility of Mercy's nature.
He had inferred, with little difficulty, from the language which Grace had used toward Mercy in his presence, that the injured woman must have taken pitiless advantage of her position at the interview which he had interrupted.Instead of appealing to Mercy's sympathies and Mercy's sense of right--instead of accepting the expression of her sincere contrition, and encouraging her to make the completest and the speediest atonement--Grace had evidently outraged and insulted her.As a necessary result, her endurance had given way-- under her own sense of intolerable severity and intolerable wrong.
The remedy for the mischief thus done was, as Julian had first seen it, to speak privately with Grace, to soothe her by owning that his opinion of the justice of her claims had undergone a change in her favor, and then to persuade her, in her own interests, to let him carry to Mercy such expressions of apology and regret as might lead to a friendly understanding between them.
With those motives, he had made his request to be permitted to speak separately to the one and the other.The scene that had followed, the new insult offered by Grace, and the answer which it had wrung from Mercy, had convinced him that no such interference as he had contemplated would have the slightest prospect of success.
The only remedy now left to try was the desperate remedy of letting things take their course, and trusting implicitly to Mercy's better nature for the result.
Let her see the police officer in plain clothes enter the room.Let her understand clearly what the result of his interference would be.Let her confront the alternative of consigning Grace Roseberry to a mad-house or of confessing the truth--and what would happen? If Julian's confidence in her was a confidence soundly placed, she would nobly pardon the outrages that had been heaped upon her, and she would do justice to the woman whom she had wronged.
If, on the other hand, his belief in her was nothing better than the blind belief of an infatuated man--if she faced the alternative and persisted in asserting her assumed identity--what then?
