“I am not at all surprised,” she replied, “to find that my adopted daughter’s interference has exposed her to misrepresentation. She ought to have remonstrated with me privately before she interfered. But she has one fault—she is too impulsive. I have never, in all my experience, met with such a warm-hearted person as she is. Always too considerate of others; always too forgetful of herself! The mere appearance of the police officer placed you in a situation to appeal to her compassion, and her impulses carried her away as usual. My fault! All my fault!”
Grace changed her tone once more. She was quick enough to discern that Lady Janet was a match for her with her own weapons.
“We have had enough of this,” she said. “It is time to be serious. Your adopted daughter (as you call her) is Mercy Merrick, and you know it.”
Lady Janet returned to her papers.
“I am Grace Roseberry, whose name she has stolen, and you know that.”
Lady Janet went on with her papers.
Grace got up from her chair.
“I accept your silence, Lady Janet,” she said, “as an acknowledgment of your deliberate resolution to suppress the truth. You are evidently determined to receive the adventuress as the true woman; and you don’t scruple to face the consequences of that proceeding, by pretending to my face to believe that I am mad. I will not allow myself to be impudently cheated out of my rights in this way. You will hear from me again madam, when the Canadian mail arrives in England.”
She walked toward the door. This time Lady Janet answered, as readily and as explicitly as it was possible to desire.
“I shall refuse to receive your letters,” she said.