He paused--leaving Mercy time to compose herself, if she wished to speak
to him.
She felt that there was a necessity for her speaking to him. He was
plainly not aware that Lady Janet had already written to her to defer
her promised explanation. This circumstance was in itself a confirmation
of the opinion which he had expressed. She ought to mention it to him;
she tried to mention it to him. But she was not equal to the effort.
The few simple words in which he had touched on the tie that bound Lady
Janet to her had wrung her heart. Her tears choked her. She could only
sign to him to go on.
"You may wonder at my speaking so positively," he continued, "with
nothing better than my own conviction to justify me. I can only say
that I have watched Lady Janet too closely to feel any doubt. I saw the
moment in which the truth flashed on her, as plainly as I now see you.
It did not disclose itself gradually--it burst on her, as it burst on
me. She suspected nothing--she was frankly indignant at your sudden
interference and your strange language--until the time came in which
you pledged yourself to produce Mercy Merrick. Then (and then only)
the truth broke on her mind, trebly revealed to her in your words, your
voice, and your look. Then (and then only) I saw a marked change come
over her, and remain in her while she remained in the room. I dread to
think of what she may do in the first reckless despair of the discovery
that she has made. I distrust--though God knows I am not naturally a
suspicious man--the most apparently trifling events that are now taking
place about us. You have held nobly to your resolution to own the truth.
Prepare yourself, before the evening is over, to be tried and tempted
again."
Mercy lifted her head. Fear took the place of grief in her eyes, as they
rested in startled inquiry on Julian's face.
"How is it possible that temptation can come to me now?" she asked.
"I will leave it to events to answer that question," he said. "You will
not have long to wait. In the meantime I have put you on your guard."
He stooped, and spoke his next words earnestly, close at her ear. "Hold
fast by the admirable courage which you have shown thus far," he went
on. "Suffer anything rather than suffer the degradation of yourself. Be
the woman whom I once spoke of--the woman I still have in my mind--who
can nobly reveal the noble nature that is in her. And never forget
this--my faith in you is as firm as ever!"
She looked at him proudly and gratefully.
"I am pledged to justify your faith in me," she said. "I have put it
out of my own power to yield. Horace has my promise that I will explain
everything to him, in this room."