The New Magdalen

JULIAN happened to be standing nearest to Mercy. He was the first at her

side when she fell.

In the cry of alarm which burst from him, as he raised her for a

moment in his arms, in the expression of his eyes when he looked at her

death-like face, there escaped the plain--too plain--confession of the

interest which he felt in her, of the admiration which she had aroused

in him. Horace detected it. There was the quick suspicion of jealousy in

the movement by which he joined Julian; there was the ready resentment

of jealousy in the tone in which he pronounced the words, "Leave her to

me." Julian resigned her in silence. A faint flush appeared on his pale

face as he drew back while Horace carried her to the sofa. His eyes sunk

to the ground; he seemed to be meditating self-reproachfully on the tone

in which his friend had spoken to him. After having been the first to

take an active part in meeting the calamity that had happened, he was

now, to all appearance, insensible to everything that was passing in the

room.

A touch on his shoulder roused him.

He turned and looked round. The woman who had done the mischief--the

stranger in the poor black garments--was standing behind him. She

pointed to the prostrate figure on the sofa, with a merciless smile.

"You wanted a proof just now," she said. "There it is!"

Horace heard her. He suddenly left the sofa and joined Julian. His face,

naturally ruddy, was pale with suppressed fury.

"Take that wretch away!" he said. "Instantly! or I won't answer for what

I may do."

Those words recalled Julian to himself. He looked round the room. Lady

Janet and the housekeeper were together, in attendance on the swooning

woman. The startled servants were congregated in the library doorway.

One of them offered to run to the nearest doctor; another asked if he

should fetch the police. Julian silenced them by a gesture, and turned

to Horace. "Compose yourself," he said. "Leave me to remove her quietly

from the house." He took Grace by the hand as he spoke. She hesitated,

and tried to release herself. Julian pointed to the group at the sofa,

and to the servants looking on. "You have made an enemy of every one in

this room," he said, "and you have not a friend in London. Do you wish

to make an enemy of _me?_ Her head drooped; she made no reply; she

waited, dumbly obedient to the firmer will than her own. Julian ordered

the servants crowding together in the doorway to withdraw. He followed

them into the library, leading Grace after him by the hand. Before

closing the door he paused, and looked back into the dining-room.

"Is she recovering?" he asked, after a moment's hesitation.