CHAPTER XXIX. THE LAST TRIAL.
THE servant left them together. Mercy spoke first.
“Mr. Gray!” she exclaimed, “why have you delayed my message? If you knew all, you would know that it is far from being a kindness to me to keep me in this house.”
He advanced closer to her—surprised by her words, alarmed by her looks.
“Has any one been here in my absence?” he asked.
“Lady Janet has been here in your absence. I can’t speak of it—my heart feels crushed—I can bear no more. Let me go!”
Briefly as she had replied, she had said enough. Julian’s knowledge of Lady Janet’s character told him what had happened. His face showed plainly that he was disappointed as well as distressed.
“I had hoped to have been with you when you and my aunt met, and to have prevented this,” he said. “Believe me, she will atone for all that she may have harshly and hastily done when she has had time to think. Try not to regret it, if she has made your hard sacrifice harder still. She has only raised you the higher—she has additionally ennobled you and endeared you in my estimation. Forgive me if I own this in plain words. I cannot control myself—I feel too strongly.”
At other times Mercy might have heard the coming avowal in his tones, might have discovered it in his eyes. As it was, her delicate insight was dulled, her fine perception was blunted. She held out her hand to him, feeling a vague conviction that he was kinder to her than ever—and feeling no more.