The New Magdalen

She rose impulsively while she spoke, as if to follow him into the

dining-room, if he persisted in leaving her.

A momentary expression of doubt crossed Julian's face as he retraced his

steps and signed to her to be seated a gain. Could she be depended on

(he asked himself) to sustain the coming test of her resolution, when

she had not courage enough to wait for events in a room by herself?

Julian had yet to learn that a woman's courage rises with the greatness

of the emergency. Ask her to accompany you through a field in which some

harmless cattle happen to be grazing, and it is doubtful, in nine cases

out of ten, if she will do it. Ask her, as one of the passengers in a

ship on fire, to help in setting an example of composure to the rest,

and it is certain, in nine cases out of ten, that she will do it. As

soon as Julian had taken a chair near her, Mercy was calm again.

"Are you sure of your resolution?" he asked.

"I am certain of it," she answered, "as long as you don't leave me by

myself."

The talk between them dropped there. They sat together in silence, with

their eyes fixed on the door, waiting for Horace to come in.

After the lapse of a few minutes their attention was attracted by

a sound outside in the grounds. A carriage of some sort was plainly

audible approaching the house.

The carriage stopped; the bell rang; the front door was opened. Had a

visitor arrived? No voice could be heard making inquiries. No footsteps

but the servant's footsteps crossed the hall. Along pause followed,

the carriage remaining at the door. Instead of bringing some one to the

house, it had apparently arrived to take some one away.

The next event was the return of the servant to the front door. They

listened again. Again no second footstep was audible. The door was

closed; the servant recrossed the hall; the carriage was driven away.

Judging by sounds alone, no one had arrived at the house, and no one had

left the house.

Julian looked at Mercy. "Do you understand this?" he asked.

She silently shook her head.

"If any person has gone away in the carriage," Julian went on, "that

person can hardly have been a man, or we must have heard him in the

hall."

The conclusion which her companion had just drawn from the noiseless

departure of the supposed visitor raised a sudden doubt in Mercy's mind.

"Go and inquire!" she said, eagerly.

Julian left the room, and returned again, after a brief absence, with

signs of grave anxiety in his face and manner.

"I told you I dreaded the most trifling events that were passing about

us," he said. "An event, which is far from being trifling, has just

happened. The carriage which we heard approaching along the drive turns

out to have been a cab sent for from the house. The person who has gone

away in it--"