The New Magdalen

Grace was far from being offended. If anything, she was gratified--there

was a certain triumph in having stung Lady Janet into an open outbreak

of temper. She insisted forthwith on another condition.

"In the event of my deciding to receive the check," she said, "I cannot,

consistently with my own self-respect, permit it to be delivered to me

otherwise than inclosed. Your ladyship will (if necessary) be so kind as

to inclose it. Good-evening."

She sauntered to the door, looking from side to side, with an air of

supreme disparagement, at the priceless treasures of art which adorned

the walls. Her eyes dropped superciliously on the carpet (the design of

a famous French painter), as if her feet condescended in walking over

it. The audacity with which she had entered the room had been marked

enough; it shrank to nothing before the infinitely superior proportions

of the insolence with which she left it.

The instant the door was closed Lady Janet rose from her chair. Reckless

of the wintry chill in the outer air, she threw open one of the windows.

"Pah!" she exclaimed, with a shudder of disgust, "the very air of the

room is tainted by her!"

She returned to her chair. Her mood changed as she sat down again--her

heart was with Mercy once more. "Oh, my love!" she murmured "how low I

have stooped, how miserably I have degraded myself--and all for You!"

The bitterness of the retrospect was unendurable. The inbred force of

the woman's nature took refuge from it in an outburst of defiance and

despair. "Whatever she has done, that wretch deserves it! Not a living

creature in this house shall say she has deceived me. She has _not_

deceived me--she loves me! What do I care whether she has given me her

true name or not! She has given me her true heart. What right had Julian

to play upon her feelings and pry into her secrets? My poor, tempted,

tortured child! I won't hear her confession. Not another word shall she

say to any living creature. I am mistress--I will forbid it at once!"

She snatched a sheet of notepaper from the case; hesitated, and threw it

from her on the table. "Why not send for my darling?" she thought. "Why

write?" She hesitated once more, and resigned the idea. "No! I can't

trust myself! I daren't see her yet!"

She took up the sheet of paper again, and wrote her second message to

Mercy. This time the note began fondly with a familiar form of address.

"MY DEAR CHILD--I have had time to think and compose myself a little,

since I last wrote, requesting you to defer the explanation which you

had promised me. I already understand (and appreciate) the motives

which led you to interfere as you did downstairs, and I now ask you to

entirely abandon the explanation. It will, I am sure, be painful to

you (for reasons of your own into which I have no wish to inquire) to

produce the person of whom you spoke, and as you know already, I myself

am weary of hearing of her. Besides, there is really no need now for you

to explain anything. The stranger whose visits here have caused us so

much pain and anxiety will trouble us no more. She leaves England of

her own free will, after a conversation with me which has perfectly

succeeded in composing and satisfying her. Not a word more, my dear,

to me, or to my nephew, or to any other human creature, of what has

happened in the dining-room to-day. When we next meet, let it be

understood between us that the past is henceforth and forever _buried

to oblivion_. This is not only the earnest request--it is, if necessary,

the positive command, of your mother and friend, "JANET ROY.