The New Magdalen

"May I count on your ladyship's, kindness to correct me if my own

ignorant calculations turn out to be wrong?" Grace asked, innocently.

Here again the words, properly interpreted, had a special signification

of their own: "It is stipulated, on my part, that I put myself up to

auction, and that my estimate shall be regulated by your ladyship's

highest bid." Thoroughly understanding the stipulation, Lady Janet

bowed, and waited gravely.

Gravely, on her side, Grace began.

"I am afraid I should want more than a hundred pounds," she said.

Lady Janet made her first bid. "I think so too."

"More, perhaps, than two hundred?"

Lady Janet made her second bid. "Probably."

"More than three hundred? Four hundred? Five hundred?"

Lady Janet made her highest bid. "Five hundred pounds will do," she

said.

In spite of herself, Grace's rising color betrayed her ungovernable

excitement. From her earliest childhood she had been accustomed to see

shillings and sixpences carefully considered before they were parted

with. She had never known her father to possess so much as five golden

sovereigns at his own disposal (unencumbered by debt) in all her

experience of him. The atmosphere in which she had lived and breathed

was the all-stifling one of genteel poverty. There was something

horrible in the greedy eagerness of her eyes as they watched Lady Janet,

to see if she was really sufficiently in earnest to give away five

hundred pounds sterling with a stroke of her pen.

Lady Janet wrote t he check in a few seconds, and pushed it across the

table.

Grace's hungry eyes devoured the golden line, "Pay to myself or bearer

five hundred pounds," and verified the signature beneath, "Janet

Roy." Once sure of the money whenever she chose to take it, the native

meanness of her nature instantly asserted itself. She tossed her head,

and let the check lie on the table, with an overacted appearance of

caring very little whether she took it or not.

"Your ladyship is not to suppose that I snap at your check," she said.

Lady Janet leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The very sight

of Grace Roseberry sickened her. Her mind filled suddenly with the image

of Mercy. She longed to feast her eyes again on that grand beauty, to

fill her ears again with the melody of that gentle voice.

"I require time to consider--in justice to my own self-respect," Grace

went on.

Lady Janet wearily made a sign, granting time to consider.

"Your ladyship's boudoir is, I presume, still at my disposal?"

Lady Janet silently granted the boudoir.

"And your ladyship's servants are at my orders, if I have occasion to

employ them?"

Lady Janet suddenly opened her eyes. "The whole household is at your

orders," she cried, furiously. "Leave me!"