The New Magdalen

'I have told you already,' he said. 'I don't understand your confidential relations with Julian Gray.'

Mercy's color rose; Mercy's eyes began to brighten.

'Don't return to that!' she cried, with an irrepressible outbreak of disgust. 'Don't, for God's sake, make me despise you at such a moment as this!'

His obstinacy only gathered fresh encouragement from that appeal to his better sense.

'I insist on returning to it.'

She had resolved to bear anything from him—as her fit punishment for the deception of which she had been guilty. But it was not in womanhood (at the moment when the first words of her confession were trembling on her lips) to endure Horace's unworthy suspicion of her. She rose from her seat and met his eye firmly.

'I refuse to degrade myself, and to degrade Mr. Julian Gray, by answering you,' she said.

'Consider what you are doing,' he rejoined. 'Change your mind, before it is too late!'

'You have had my reply.'

Those resolute words, that steady resistance, seemed to infuriate him. He caught her roughly by the arm.

'You are as false as hell!' he cried. 'It's all over between you and me!'

The loud threatening tone in which he had spoken penetrated through the closed door of the dining-room. The door instantly opened. Julian returned to the library.

He had just set foot in the room, when there was a knock at the other door—the door that opened on the hall. One of the men-servants appeared, with a telegraphic message in his hand. Mercy was the first to see it. It was the Matron's answer to the letter which she had sent to the Refuge.

'For Mr. Julian Gray?' she asked.

'Yes, miss.'

'Give it to me.'

She signed to the man to withdraw, and herself gave the telegram to Julian. 'It is addressed to you, at my request,' she said. 'You will recognize the name of the person who sends it, and you will find a message in it for me.'

Horace interfered before Julian could open the telegram.

'Another private understanding between you!' he said. 'Give me that telegram.'

Julian looked at him with quiet contempt.

'It is directed to Me,' he answered—and opened the envelope.

The message inside was expressed in these terms: 'I am as deeply interested in her as you are. Say that I have received her letter, and that I welcome her back to the Refuge with all my heart. I have business this evening in the neighborhood. I will call for her myself at Mablethorpe House.'

The message explained itself. Of her own free-will she had made the expiation complete! Of her own free-will she was going back to the martyrdom of her old life! Bound as he knew himself to be to let no compromising word or action escape him in the presence of Horace, the irrepressible expression of Julian's admiration glowed in his eyes as they rested on Mercy. Horace detected the look. He sprang forward and tried to snatch the telegram out of Julian's hand.

'Give it to me!' he said. 'I will have it!'

Julian silently put him back at arms-length.

Maddened with rage, he lifted his hand threateningly. 'Give it to me!' he repeated between his set teeth, 'or it will be the worse for you!'

'Give it to me!' said Mercy, suddenly placing herself between them.

Julian gave it. She turned, and offered it to Horace, looking at him with a steady eye, holding it out to him with a steady hand.

'Read it,' she said.

Julian's generous nature pitied the man who had insulted him. Julian's great heart only remembered the friend of former times.

'Spare him!' he said to Mercy. 'Remember he is unprepared.'

She neither answered nor moved. Nothing stirred the horrible torpor of her resignation to her fate. She knew that the time had come.

Julian appealed to Horace.

'Don't read it!' he cried. 'Hear what she has to say to you first!'

Horace's hand answered him with a contemptuous gesture. Horace's eyes devoured, word by word, the Matron's message.

He looked up when he had read it through. There was a ghastly change in his face as he turned it on Mercy.

She stood between the two men like a statue. The life in her seemed to have died out, except in her eyes. Her eyes rested on Horace with a steady, glittering calmness.

The silence was only broken by the low murmuring of Julian's voice. His face was hidden in his hands—he was praying for them.