The New Magdalen

Mercy's mind began to yield to him, in spite of herself.

"What do you mean by Horace's temper?" she inquired.

"Must you ask me that?" he said, drawing back a little from her.

"I must."

"I mean by Horace's temper, Horace's unworthy distrust of the interest

that I feel in you."

She instantly understood him. And more than that, she secretly admired

him for the scrupulous delicacy with which he had expressed himself.

Another man would not have thought of sparing her in that way. Another

man would have said, plainly, "Horace is jealous of me."

Julian did not wait for her to answer him. He considerately went on.

"For the reason that I have just mentioned," he said, "Horace will be

easily irritated into taking a course which, in his calmer moments,

nothing would induce him to adopt. Until I heard what your maid said to

you I had thought (for your sake) of retiring before he joined you

here. Now I know that my name has been introduced, and has made mischief

upstairs, I feel the necessity (for your sake again) of meeting Horace

and his temper face to face before you see him. Let me, if I can,

prepare him to hear you without any angry feeling in his mind toward

you. Do you object to retire to the next room for a few minutes in the

event of his coming back to the library?"

Mercy's courage instantly rose with the emergency. She refused to leave

the two men together.

"Don't think me insensible to your kindness," she said. "If I leave you

with Horace I may expose you to insult. I refuse to do that. What makes

you doubt his coming back?"

"His prolonged absence makes me doubt it," Julian replied. "In my

belief, the marriage is broken off. He may go as Grace Roseberry has

gone. You may never see him again."

The instant the opinion was uttered, it was practically contradicted by

the man himself. Horace opened the library door.