The New Magdalen

"I want to know," she said, "why you troubled yourself to make your

inquiries on the Continent _in person?_ You know where my old courier is

to be found. You have yourself pronounced him to be the most intelligent

and trustworthy of men. Answer me honestly--could you not have sent him

in your place?"

"I _might_ have sent him," Julian admitted, a little reluctantly.

"You might have sent the courier--and you were under an engagement to

stay here as my guest. Answer me honestly once more. Why did you go

away?"

Julian hesitated. Lady Janet paused for his reply, with the air of

a women who was prepared to wait (if necessary) for the rest of the

afternoon.

"I had a reason of my own for going," Julian said at last.

"Yes?" rejoined Lady Janet, prepared to wait (if necessary) till the

next morning.

"A reason," Julian resumed, "which I would rather not mention."

"Oh!" said Lady Janet. "Another mystery--eh? And another woman at the

bottom of it, no doubt. Thank you--that will do--I am sufficiently

answered. No wonder, as a clergyman, that you look a little confused.

There is, perhaps, a certain grace, under the circumstances, in looking

confused. We will change the subject again. You stay here, of course,

now you have come back?"

Once more the famous pulpit orator seemed to find himself in the

inconceivable predicament of not knowing what to say. Once more Lady

Janet looked resigned to wait (if necessary) until the middle of next

week.

Julian took refuge in an answer worthy of the most commonplace man on

the face of the civilized earth.

"I beg your ladyship to accept my thanks and my excuses," he said.

Lady Janet's many-ringed fingers, mechanically stroking the cat in her

lap, began to stroke him the wrong way.

Lady Janet's inexhaustible patience showed signs of failing her at last.

"Mighty civil, I am sure," she said. "Make it complete. Say, Mr. Julian

Gray presents his compliments to Lady Janet Roy, and regrets that a

previous engagement--Julian!" exclaimed the old lady, suddenly pushing

the cat off her lap, and flinging her last pretense of good temper

to the winds--"Julian, I am not to be trifled with! There is but one

explanation of your conduct--you are evidently avoiding my house. Is

there somebody you dislike in it? Is it me?"

Julian intimated by a gesture that his aunt's last question was absurd.

(The much-injured cat elevated his back, waved his tail slowly, walked

to the fireplace, and honored the rug by taking a seat on it.) Lady Janet persisted. "Is it Grace Roseberry?" she asked next.

Even Julian's patience began to show signs of yielding. His manner

assumed a sudden decision, his voice rose a tone louder.

"You insist on knowing?" he said. "It _is_ Miss Roseberry."