The New Magdalen

He rose--making a little gesture of apology for the warmth with which

he had spoken--and took a turn in the room. Fired by _his_ enthusiasm,

Mercy followed him. Her purse was in her hand, when he turned and faced

her.

"Pray let me offer my little tribute--such as it is!" she said, eagerly.

A momentary flush spread over his pale cheeks as he looked at the

beautiful compassionate face pleading with him.

"No! no!" he said, smiling; "though I am a parson, I don't carry the

begging-box everywhere." Mercy attempted to press the purse on him. The

quaint humor began to twinkle again in his eyes as he abruptly drew back

from it. "Don't tempt me!" he said. "The frailest of all human creatures

is a clergyman tempted by a subscription." Mercy persisted, and

conquered; she made him prove the truth of his own profound observation

of clerical human nature by taking a piece of money from the purse. "If

I must take it--I must!" he remarked. "Thank you for setting the good

example! thank you for giving the timely help! What name shall I put

down on my list?"

Mercy's eyes looked confusedly away from him. "No name," she said, in a

low voice. "My subscription is anonymous."

As she replied, the library door opened. To her infinite relief--to

Julian's secret disappointment--Lady Janet Roy and Horace Holmcroft

entered the room together.

"Julian!" exclaimed Lady Janet, holding up her hands in astonishment.

He kissed his aunt on the cheek. "Your ladyship is looking charmingly."

He gave his hand to Horace. Horace took it, and passed on to Mercy. They

walked away together slowly to the other end of the room. Julian seized

on the chance which left him free to speak privately to his aunt.

"I came in through the conservatory," he said. "And I found that young

lady in the room. Who is she?"

"Are you very much interested in her?" asked Lady Janet, in her gravely

ironical way.

Julian answered in one expressive word. "Indescribably!"

Lady Janet called to Mercy to join her.

"My dear," she said, "let me formally present my nephew to you. Julian,

this is Miss Grace Roseberry--" She suddenly checked herself. The

instant she pronounced the name, Julian started as if it was a surprise

to him. "What is it?" she asked, sharply.

"Nothing," he answered, bowing to Mercy, with a marked absence of his

former ease of manner. She returned the courtesy a little restrainedly

on her side. She, too, had seen him start when Lady Janet mentioned the

name by which she was known. The start meant something. What could it

be? Why did he turn aside, after bowing to her, and address himself to

Horace, with an absent look in his face, as if his thoughts were far

away from his words? A complete change had come over him; and it dated

from the moment when his aunt had pronounced the name that was not _her_

name---the name that she had stolen!