The New Magdalen

"She is safe from discovery--for the present, at least."

"Safe as long as she closes her lips?"

"As long as she closes her lips."

"There is her opportunity!" cried Julian. "Her future is before her. She

has not done with hope!"

With clasped hands, in breathless suspense, Mercy looked at that

inspiriting face, and listened to those golden words.

"Explain yourself," she said. "Tell her, through me, what she must do."

"Let her own the truth," answered Julian, "without the base fear of

discovery to drive her to it. Let her do justice to the woman whom she

has wronged, while that woman is still powerless to expose her. Let her

sacrifice everything that she has gained by the fraud to the sacred duty

of atonement. If she can do that--for conscience' sake, and for pity's

sake--to her own prejudice, to her own shame, to her own loss--then her

repentance has nobly revealed the noble nature that is in her; then she

is a woman to be trusted, respected, beloved! If I saw the Pharisees and

fanatics of this lower earth passing her by in contempt, I would hold

out my hand to her before them all. I would say to her in her solitude

and her affliction, 'Rise, poor wounded heart! Beautiful, purified soul,

God's angels rejoice over you! Take your place among the noblest of

God's creatures!'"

In those last sentences he unconsciously repeated the language in which

he had spoken, years since, to his congregation in the chapel of the

Refuge. With tenfold power and tenfold persuasion they now found their

way again to Mercy's heart. Softly, suddenly, mysteriously, a change

passed over her. Her troubled face grew beautifully still. The shifting

light of terror and suspense vanished from her grand gray eyes, and left

in them the steady inner glow of a high and pure resolve.

There was a moment of silence between them. They both had need of

silence. Julian was the first to speak again.

"Have I satisfied you that her opportunity is still before her?" he

asked. "Do you feel, as I feel, that she has _not_ done with hope?"

"You have satisfied me that the world holds no truer friend to her than

you," Mercy answered, gently and gratefully. "She shall prove herself

worthy of your generous confidence in her. She shall show you yet that

you have not spoken in vain."

Still inevitably failing to understand her, he led the way to the door.

"Don't waste the precious time," he said. "Don't leave her cruelly to

herself. If you can't go to her, let me go as your messenger, in your

place."

She stopped him by a gesture. He took a step back into the room, and

paused, observing with surprise that she made no attempt to move from

the chair that she occupied.