The New Magdalen

The self-possession which Grace had maintained from the moment when she

had entered the dining-room, seemed now, for the first time, to be on

the point of failing her. She turned, and looked appealingly at Julian,

who had thus far kept his place apart, listening attentively.

"Surely," she said, "your friend, the consul, has told you in his letter

about the mark on the clothes?"

Something of the girlish hesitation and timidity which had marked her

demeanor at her interview with Mercy in the French cottage re-appeared

in her tone and manner as she spoke those words. The changes--mostly

changes for the worse--wrought in her by the suffering through which she

had passed since that time were now (for the moment) effaced. All that

was left of the better and simpler side of her character asserted itself

in her brief appeal to Julian. She had hitherto repelled him. He began

to feel a certain compassionate interest in her now.

"The consul has informed me of what you said to him," he answered,

kindly. "But, if you will take my advice, I recommend you to tell your

story to Lady Janet in your own words."

Grace again addressed herself with submissive reluctance to Lady Janet.

"The clothes your ladyship speaks of," she said, "were the clothes of

another woman. The rain was pouring when the soldiers detained me on the

frontier. I had been exposed for hours to the weather--I was wet to the

skin. The clothes marked 'Mercy Merrick' were the clothes lent to me by

Mercy Merrick herself while my own things were drying. I was struck

by the shell in those clothes. I was carried away insensible in those

clothes after the operation had been performed on me."

Lady Janet listened to perfection--and did no more. She turned

confidentially to Horace, and said to him, in her gracefully ironical

way: "She is ready with her explanation."

Horace answered in the same tone: "A great deal too ready."

Grace looked from one of them to the other. A faint flush of color

showed itself in her face for the first time.

"Am I to understand," she asked, with proud composure, "that you don't

believe me?"

Lady Janet maintained her policy of silence. She waved one hand

courteously toward Julian, as if to say, "Address your inquiries to

the gentleman who introduces you." Julian, noticing the gesture, and

observing the rising color in Grace's cheeks, interfered directly in the

interests of peace "Lady Janet asked you a question just now," he said; "Lady Janet

inquired who your father was."

"My father was the late Colonel Roseberry."

Lady Janet made another confidential remark to Horace. "Her assurance

amazes me!" she exclaimed.

Julian interposed before his aunt could add a word more. "Pray let us

hear her," he said, in a tone of entreaty which had something of the

imperative in it this time. He turned to Grace. "Have you any proof to

produce," he added, in his gentler voice, "which will satisfy us that

you are Colonel Roseberry's daughter?"