"Don't judge her harshly," he said."She is wrong, miserably wrong.She has recklessly degraded herself; she has recklessly tempted you.Still, is it generous--is it even just--to hold her responsible for deliberate sin? She is at the close of her days; she can feel no new affection; she can never replace you.View her position in that light, and you will see (as I see) that it is no base motive which has led her astray.Think of her wounded heart and her wasted life--and say to yourself forgivingly, She loves me!"Mercy's eyes filled with tears.
"I do say it!" she answered."Not forgivingly--it is I who have need of forgiveness.I say it gratefully when I think of her--I say it with shame and sorrow when I think of myself."He took her hand for the first time.He looked, guiltlessly looked, at her downcast face.He spoke as he had spoken at the memorable interview between them which had made a new woman of her.
"I can imagine no crueler trial," he said, "than the trial that is now before you.The benefactress to whom you owe everything asks nothing from you but your silence.The person whom you have wronged is no longer present to stimulate your resolution to speak.Horace himself (unless I am entirely mistaken) will not hold you to the explanation that you have promised.The temptation to keep your false position in this house is, I do not scruple to say, all but irresistible.Sister and friend! can you still justify my faith in you? Will you still own the truth, without the base fear of discovery to drive you to it?"She lifted her head, with the steady light of resolution shining again in her grand, gray eyes.Her low, sweet voice answered him, without a faltering note in it, "I will!""You will do justice to the woman whom you have wronged--unworthy as she is; powerless as she is to expose you?""I will!"
"You will sacrifice everything you have gained by the fraud to the sacred duty of atonement? You will suffer anything--even though you offend the second mother who has loved you and sinned for you-- rather than suffer the degradation of yourself?"Her hand closed firmly on his.Again, and for the last time, she answered, "I will!"His voice had not trembled yet.It failed him now.His next words were spoken in faint whispering tones--to himself; not to her.
"Thank God for this day!" he said."I have been of some service to one of the noblest of God's creatures!"Some subtle influence, as he spoke, passed from his hand to hers.It trembled through her nerves; it entwined itself mysteriously with the finest sensibilities in her nature; it softly opened her heart to a first vague surmising of the devotion that she had inspired in him.A faint glow of color, lovely in its faintness, stole over her face and neck.Her breathing quickened tremblingly.She drew her hand away from him, and sighed when she had released it.
He rose suddenly to his feet and left her, without a word or a look, walking slowly down the length of the room.When he turned and came back to her, his face was composed; he was master of himself again.
Mercy was the first to speak.She turned the conversation from herself by reverting to the proceedings in Lady Janet's room.
"You spoke of Horace just now," she said, "in terms which surprised me.You appeared to think that he would not hold me to my explanation.Is that one of the conclusions which you draw from Lady Janet's letter?""Most assuredly," Julian answered."You will see the conclusion as I see it if we return for a moment to Grace Roseberry's departure from the house."Mercy interrupted him there."Can you guess," she asked, "how Lady Janet prevailed upon her to go?""I hardly like to own it," said Julian."There is an expression in the letter which suggests to me that Lady Janet has offered her money, and that she has taken the bribe.""Oh, I can't think that!"
