She started to her feet. Lady Janet's letter was still in the pocket of
her apron--the letter which imperatively commanded her to abstain from
making the very confession that had just passed her lips! It was near
the dinner hour, and the library was the favorite place in which the
mistress of the house and her guests assembled at that time. It was no
matter of doubt; it was an absolute certainty that Lady Janet had only
stopped in the hall on her way into the room.
The alternative for Mercy lay between instantly leaving the library by
the dining-room door--or remaining where she was, at the risk of being
sooner or later compelled to own that she had deliberately disobeyed
her benefactress. Exhausted by what she had already suffered, she stood
trembling and irresolute, incapable of deciding which alternative she
should choose.
Lady Janet's voice, clear and resolute, penetrated into the room. She
was reprimanding the servant who had answered the bell.
"Is it your duty in my house to look after the lamps?"
"Yes, my lady."
"And is it my duty to pay you your wages?"
"If you please, my lady."
"Why do I find the light in the hall dim, and the wick of that lamp
smoking? I have not failed in my duty to You. Don't let me find you
failing again in your duty to Me."
(Never had Lady Janet's voice sounded so sternly in Mercy's ear as it
sounded now. If she spoke with that tone of severity to a servant who
had neglected a lamp, what had her adopted daughter to expect when she
discovered that her entreaties and her commands had been alike set at
defiance?) Having administered her reprimand, Lady Janet had not done with the
servant yet. She had a question to put to him next.
"Where is Miss Roseberry?"
"In the library, my lady."
Mercy returned to the couch. She could stand no longer; she had not even
resolution enough left to lift her eyes to the door.
Lady Janet came in more rapidly than usual. She advanced to the couch,
and tapped Mercy playfully on the cheek with two of her fingers.
"You lazy child! Not dressed for dinner? Oh, fie, fie!"
Her tone was as playfully affectionate as the action which had
accompanied her words. In speechless astonishment Mercy looked up at
her.
Always remarkable for the taste and splendor of her dress, Lady Janet
had on this occasion surpassed herself. There she stood revealed in her
grandest velvet, her richest jewelry, her finest lace--with no one to
entertain at the dinner-table but the ordinary members of the circle at
Mablethorpe House. Noticing this as strange to begin with, Mercy further
observed, for the first time in her experience, that Lady Janet's eyes
avoided meeting hers. The old lady took her place companionably on the
couch; she ridiculed her "lazy child's" plain dress, without an ornament
of any sort on it, with her best grace; she affectionately put her arm
round Mercy's waist, and rearranged with her own hand the disordered
locks of Mercy's hair--but the instant Mercy herself looked at her, Lady
Janet's eyes discovered something supremely interesting in the familiar
objects that surrounded her on the library walls.