The message explained itself. Of her own free-will she had made the expiation complete! Of her own free-will she was going back to the martyrdom of her old life! Bound as he knew himself to be to let no compromising word or action escape him in the presence of Horace, the irrepressible expression of Julian’s admiration glowed in his eyes as they rested on Mercy. Horace detected the look. He sprang forward and tried to snatch the telegram out of Julian’s hand.
“Give it to me!” he said. “I will have it!”
Julian silently put him back at arms-length.
Maddened with rage, he lifted his hand threateningly. “Give it to me!” he repeated between his set teeth, “or it will be the worse for you!”
“Give it to me!” said Mercy, suddenly placing herself between them.
Julian gave it. She turned, and offered it to Horace, looking at him with a steady eye, holding it out to him with a steady hand.
“Read it,” she said.
Julian’s generous nature pitied the man who had insulted him. Julian’s great heart only remembered the friend of former times.
“Spare him!” he said to Mercy. “Remember he is unprepared.”
She neither answered nor moved. Nothing stirred the horrible torpor of her resignation to her fate. She knew that the time had come.