The New Magdalen

"Did you return to London?"

"Where else could I go, without a character?" said Mercy, sadly. "I went

back again to the matron. Sickness had broken out in the Refuge; I made

myself useful as a nurse. One of the doctors was struck with me--'fell

in love' with me, as the phrase is. He would have married me. The nurse,

as an honest woman, was bound to tell him the truth. He never appeared

again. The old story! I began to be weary of saying to myself, 'I can't

get back! I can't get back!' Despair got hold of me, the despair that

hardens the heart. I might have committed suicide; I might even have

drifted back into my old life--but for one man."

At those last words her voice--quiet and even through the earlier part

of her sad story--began to falter once more. She stopped, following

silently the memories and associations roused in her by what she had

just said. Had she forgotten the presence of another person in the room?

Grace's curiosity left Grace no resource but to say a word on her side.

"Who was the man?" she asked. "How did he befriend you?"

"Befriend me? He doesn't even know that such a person as I am is in

existence."

That strange answer, naturally enough, only strengthened the anxiety of

Grace to hear more. "You said just now--" she began.

"I said just now that he saved me. He did save me; you shall hear

how. One Sunday our regular clergyman at the Refuge was not able to

officiate. His place was taken by a stranger, quite a young man. The

matron told us the stranger's name was Julian Gray. I sat in the back

row of seats, under the shadow of the gallery, where I could see him

without his seeing me. His text was from the words, 'Joy shall be in

heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine

just persons, which need no repentance. 'What happier women might have

thought of his sermon I cannot say; there was not a dry eye among us

at the Refuge. As for me, he touched my heart as no man has touched

it before or since. The hard despair melted in me at the sound of his

voice; the weary round of my life showed its nobler side again while he

spoke. From that time I have accepted my hard lot, I have been a patient

woman. I might have been something more, I might have been a happy

woman, if I could have prevailed on myself to speak to Julian Gray."

"What hindered you from speaking to him?"

"I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of making my hard life harder still."

A woman who could have sympathized with her would perhaps have guessed

what those words meant. Grace was simply embarrassed by her; and Grace

failed to guess.