The New Magdalen

IN the great emergencies of life we feel, or we act, as our dispositions

incline us. But we never think. Mercy's mind was a blank as she

descended the stairs. On her way down she was conscious of nothing but

the one headlong impulse to get to the library in the shortest possible

space of time. Arrived at the door, the impulse capriciously left her.

She stopped on the mat, wondering why she had hurried herself, with time

to spare. Her heart sank; the fever of her excitement changed suddenly

to a chill as she faced the closed door, and asked herself the question,

Dare I go in?

Her own hand answered her. She lifted it to turn the handle of the lock.

It dropped again helplessly at her side.

The sense of her own irresolution wrung from her a low exclamation of

despair. Faint as it was, it had apparently not passed unheard. The door

was opened from within--and Horace stood before her.

He drew aside to let her pass into the room. But he never followed her

in. He stood in the doorway, and spoke to her, keeping the door open

with his hand.

"Do you mind waiting here for me?" he asked.

She looked at him, in vacant surprise, doubting whether she had heard

him aright.

"It will not be for long," he went on. "I am far too anxious to hear

what you have to tell me to submit to any needless delays. The truth is,

I have had a message from Lady Janet."

(From Lady Janet! What could Lady Janet want with him, at a time when

she was bent on composing herself in the retirement of her own room?) "I ought to have said two messages," Horace proceeded. "The first

was given to me on my way downstairs. Lady Janet wished to see me

immediately. I sent an excuse. A second message followed. Lady Janet

would accept no excuse. If I refused to go to her I should be merely

obliging her to come to me. It is impossible to risk being interrupted

in that way; my only alternative is to get the thing over as soon as

possible. Do you mind waiting?"

"Certainly not. Have you any idea of what Lady Janet wants with you?"

"No. Whatever it is, she shall not keep me long away from you. You will

be quite alone here; I have warned the servants not to show any one in."

With those words he left her.

Mercy's first sensation was a sensation of relief--soon lost in a

feeling of shame at the weakness which could welcome any temporary

relief in such a position as hers. The emotion thus roused merged,

in its turn, into a sense of impatient regret. "But for Lady Janet's

message," she thought to herself, "I might have known my fate by this

time!"