'Here she is,' he said, just as quietly as ever.
Lady Janet looked at the card, and tossed it indignantly back to her nephew. 'Miss Roseberry!' she exclaimed. 'Printed—actually printed on her card! Julian, even MY patience has its limits. I refuse to see her!'
The servant was still waiting—not like a human being who took an interest in the proceedings, but (as became a perfectly bred footman) like an article of furniture artfully constructed to come and go at the word of command. Julian gave the word of command, addressing the admirably constructed automaton by the name of 'James.'
'Where is the lady now?' he asked.
'In the breakfast-room, sir.'
'Leave her there, if you please, and wait outside within hearing of the bell.'
The legs of the furniture-footman acted, and took him noiselessly out of the room. Julian turned to his aunt.
'Forgive me,' he said, 'for venturing to give the man his orders in your presence. I am very anxious that you should not decide hastily. Surely we ought to hear what this lady has to say?'
Horace dissented widely from his friend's opinion. 'It's an insult to Grace,' he broke out, warmly, 'to hear what she has to say!'
Lady Janet nodded her head in high approval. 'I think so, too,' said her ladyship, crossing her handsome old hands resolutely on her lap.
Julian applied himself to answering Horace first.
'Pardon me,' he said. 'I have no intention of presuming to reflect on Miss Roseberry, or of bringing her into the matter at all.—The consul's letter,' he went on, speaking to his aunt, 'mentions, if you remember, that the medical authorities of Mannheim were divided in opinion on their patient's case. Some of them—the physician-in-chief being among the number—believe that the recovery of her mind has not accompanied the recovery of her body.'
'In other words,' Lady Janet remarked, 'a madwoman is in my house, and I am expected to receive her!'
'Don't let us exaggerate,' said Julian, gently. 'It can serve no good interest, in this serious matter, to exaggerate anything. The consul assures us, on the authority of the doctor, that she is perfectly gentle and harmless. If she is really the victim of a mental delusion, the poor creature is surely an object of compassion, and she ought to be placed under proper care. Ask your own kind heart, my dear aunt, if it would not be downright cruelty to turn this forlorn woman adrift in the world without making some inquiry first.'
Lady Janet's inbred sense of justice admitted not over willingly—the reasonableness as well as the humanity of the view expressed in those words. 'There is some truth in that, Julian,' she said, shifting her position uneasily in her chair, and looking at Horace. 'Don't you think so, too?' she added.
'I can't say I do,' answered Horace, in the positive tone of a man whose obstinacy is proof against every form of appeal that can be addressed to him.
The patience of Julian was firm enough to be a match for the obstinacy of Horace. 'At any rate,' he resumed, with undiminished good temper, 'we are all three equally interested in setting this matter at rest. I put it to you, Lady Janet, if we are not favored, at this lucky moment, with the very opportunity that we want? Miss Roseberry is not only out of the room, but out of the house. If we let this chance slip, who can say what awkward accident may not happen in the course of the next few days?'
'Let the woman come in,' cried Lady Janet, deciding headlong, with her customary impatience of all delay. 'At once, Julian—before Grace can come back. Will you ring the bell this time?'
This time Julian rang it. 'May I give the man his orders?' he respectfully inquired of his aunt.
'Give him anything you like, and have done with it!' retorted the irritable old lady, getting briskly on her feet, and taking a turn in the room to compose herself.
The servant withdrew, with orders to show the visitor in.
Horace crossed the room at the same time—apparently with the intention of leaving it by the door at the opposite end.
'You are not going away?' exclaimed Lady Janet.
'I see no use in my remaining here,' replied Horace, not very graciously.
'In that case,' retorted Lady Janet, 'remain here because I wish it.'
'Certainly—if you wish it. Only remember,' he added, more obstinately than ever, 'that I differ entirely from Julian's view. In my opinion the woman has no claim on us.'
A passing movement of irritation escaped Julian for the first time. 'Don't be hard, Horace,' he said, sharply. 'All women have a claim on us.'
They had unconsciously gathered together, in the heat of the little debate, turning their backs on the library door. At the last words of the reproof administered by Julian to Horace, their attention was recalled to passing events by the slight noise produced by the opening and closing of the door. With one accord the three turned and looked in the direction from which the sounds had come.
CHAPTER XI. THE DEAD ALIVE.
JUST inside the door there appeared the figure of a small woman dressed in plain and poor black garments. She silently lifted her black net veil and disclosed a dull, pale, worn, weary face. The forehead was low and broad; the eyes were unusually far apart; the lower features were remarkably small and delicate. In health (as the consul at Mannheim had remarked) this woman must have possessed, if not absolute beauty, at least rare attractions peculiarly her own. As it was now, suffering—sullen, silent, self-contained suffering—had marred its beauty. Attention and even curiosity it might still rouse. Admiration or interest it could excite no longer.
The small, thin, black figure stood immovably inside the door. The dull, worn, white face looked silently at the three persons in the room.
