The New Magdalen

'That,' said Lady Janet, 'was my only object.'

'You had nothing to say to me on the subject of Mercy Merrick?'

'Nothing whatever. I am weary of hearing of Mercy Merrick. Have you any more questions to ask me?'

'I have one more.'

'Yes?'

'I wish to ask your ladyship whether you propose to recognize me in the presence of your household as the late Colonel Roseberry's daughter?'

'I have already recognized you as a lady in embarrassed circumstances, who has peculiar claims on my consideration and forbearance. If you wish me to repeat those words in the presence of the servants (absurd as it is), I am ready to comply with your request.'

Grace's temper began to get the better of her prudent resolutions.

'Lady Janet!' she said; 'this won't do. I must request you to express yourself plainly. You talk of my peculiar claims on your forbearance. What claims do you mean?'

'It will be painful to both of us if we enter into details,' replied Lady Janet. 'Pray don't let us enter into details.'

'I insist on it, madam.'

'Pray don't insist on it.'

Grace was deaf to remonstrance.

'I ask you in plain words,' she went on, 'do you acknowledge that you have been deceived by an adventuress who has personated me? Do you mean to restore me to my proper place in this house?'

Lady Janet returned to the arrangement of her papers.

'Does your ladyship refuse to listen to me?'

Lady Janet looked up from her papers as blandly as ever.

'If you persist in returning to your delusion,' she said, 'you will oblige me to persist in returning to my papers.'

'What is my delusion, if you please?'

'Your delusion is expressed in the questions you have just put to me. Your delusion constitutes your peculiar claim on my forbearance. Nothing you can say or do will shake my forbearance. When I first found you in the dining-room, I acted most improperly; I lost my temper. I did worse; I was foolish enough and imprudent enough to send for a police officer. I owe you every possible atonement (afflicted as you are) for treating you in that cruel manner. I offered you the use of my boudoir, as part of my atonement. I sent for you, in the hope that you would allow me to assist you, as part of my atonement. You may behave rudely to me, you may speak in the most abusive terms of my adopted daughter; I will submit to anything, as part of my atonement. So long as you abstain from speaking on one painful subject, I will listen to you with the greatest pleasure. Whenever you return to that subject I shall return to my papers.'

Grace looked at Lady Janet with an evil smile.

'I begin to understand your ladyship,' she said. 'You are ashamed to acknowledge that you have been grossly imposed upon. Your only alternative, of course, is to ignore everything that has happened. Pray count on my forbearance. I am not at all offended—I am merely amused. It is not every day that a lady of high rank exhibits herself in such a position as yours to an obscure woman like me. Your humane consideration for me dates, I presume, from the time when your adopted daughter set you the example, by ordering the police officer out of the room?'

Lady Janet's composure was proof even against this assault on it. She gravely accepted Grace's inquiry as a question addressed to her in perfect good faith.

'I am not at all surprised,' she replied, 'to find that my adopted daughter's interference has exposed her to misrepresentation. She ought to have remonstrated with me privately before she interfered. But she has one fault —she is too impulsive. I have never, in all my experience, met with such a warm-hearted person as she is. Always too considerate of others; always too forgetful of herself! The mere appearance of the police officer placed you in a situation to appeal to her compassion, and her impulses carried her away as usual. My fault! All my fault!'

Grace changed her tone once more. She was quick enough to discern that Lady Janet was a match for her with her own weapons.

'We have had enough of this,' she said. 'It is time to be serious. Your adopted daughter (as you call her) is Mercy Merrick, and you know it.'

Lady Janet returned to her papers.

'I am Grace Roseberry, whose name she has stolen, and you know that.'

Lady Janet went on with her papers.

Grace got up from her chair.

'I accept your silence, Lady Janet,' she said, 'as an acknowledgment of your deliberate resolution to suppress the truth. You are evidently determined to receive the adventuress as the true woman; and you don't scruple to face the consequences of that proceeding, by pretending to my face to believe that I am mad. I will not allow myself to be impudently cheated out of my rights in this way. You will hear from me again madam, when the Canadian mail arrives in England.'

She walked toward the door. This time Lady Janet answered, as readily and as explicitly as it was possible to desire.

'I shall refuse to receive your letters,' she said.

Grace returned a few steps, threateningly.