"Did you hear anything in the room before Lady Janet came out and met
you?"
The woman hesitated, and looked at Julian.
"I hardly know whether I ought to tell you, miss."
Julian turned away to leave the library. Mercy stopped him by a motion
of her hand.
"You know that I shall not get you into any trouble," she said to the
maid. "And you may speak quite safely before Mr. Julian Gray."
Thus re-assured, the maid spoke.
"To own the truth, miss, I heard Mr. Holmcroft in my lady's room. His
voice sounded as if he was angry. I may say they were both angry--Mr.
Holmcroft and my lady." (She turned to Julian.) "And just before her
ladyship came out, sir, I heard your name, as if it was you they were
having words about. I can't say exactly what it was; I hadn't time to
hear. And I didn't listen, miss; the door was ajar; and the voices were
so loud nobody could help hearing them."
It was useless to detain the woman any longer. Having given her leave to
withdraw, Mercy turned to Julian.
"Why were they quarreling about you?" she asked.
Julian pointed to the unopened letter in her hand.
"The answer to your question may be there," he said. "Read the letter
while you have the chance. And if I can advise you, say so at once."
With a strange reluctance she opened the envelope. With a sinking
heart she read the lines in which Lady Janet, as "mother and friend,"
commanded her absolutely to suppress the confession which she had
pledged herself to make in the sacred interests of justice and truth.
A low cry of despair escaped her, as the cruel complication in her
position revealed itself in all its unmerited hardship. "Oh, Lady Janet,
Lady Janet!" she thought, "there was but one trial more left in my hard
lot--and it comes to me from _you!_"
She handed the letter to Julian. He took it from her in silence. His
pale complexion turned paler still as he read it. His eyes rested on her
compassionately as he handed it back.
"To my mind," he said, "Lady Janet herself sets all further doubt at
rest. Her letter tells me what she wanted when she sent for Horace, and
why my name was mentioned between them."
"Tell me!" cried Mercy, eagerly.
He did not immediately answer her. He sat down again in the chair by her
side, and pointed to the letter.
"Has Lady Janet shaken your resolution?" he asked.
"She has strengthened my resolution," Mercy answered. "She has added a
new bitterness to my remorse."
She did not mean it harshly, but the reply sounded harshly in Julian's
ears. It stirred the generous impulses, which were the strongest
impulses in his nature. He who had once pleaded with Mercy for
compassionate consideration for herself now pleaded with her for
compassionate consideration for Lady Janet. With persuasive gentleness
he drew a little nearer, and laid his hand on her arm.