The New Magdalen

"Let me help you," said Julian.

"You!"

"Why not?" he asked, with a momentary return of the quaint humor which

she remembered so well. "You forget that I am a curate. Curates are

privileged to make themselves useful to young ladies. Let me try."

He took a stool at her feet, and set himself to unravel one of the

tangled skeins. In a minute the wool was stretched on his hands, and

the loose end was ready for Mercy to wind. There was something in the

trivial action, and in the homely attention that it implied, which in

some degree quieted her fear of him. She began to roll the wool off his

hands into a ball. Thus occupied, she said the daring words which were

to lead him little by little into betraying his suspicions, if he did

indeed suspect the truth.