s arm, and led him to the chairs which they
had just left. It was shocking, it was wrong (she mentally admitted) to
look on Mercy, under the circumstances, with any other eye than the
eye of a brother or a friend. In a clergyman (perhaps) doubly shocking,
doubly wrong. But, with all her respect for the vested interests
of Horace, Lady Janet could not blame Julian. Worse still, she was
privately conscious that he had, somehow or other, risen, rather than
fallen, in her estimation within the last minute or two. Who could deny
that her adopted daughter was a charming creature? Who could wonder if a
man of refined tastes admired her? Upon the whole, her ladyship humanely
decided that her nephew was rather to be pitied than blamed. What
daughter of Eve (no matter whether she was seventeen or seventy) could
have honestly arrived at any other conclusion? Do what a man may--let
him commit anything he likes, from an error to a crime--so long as there
is a woman at the bottom of it, there is an inexhaustible fund of pardon
for him in every other woman's heart. "Sit down," said Lady Janet,
smiling in spite of herself; "and don't talk in that horrible way again.
A man, Julian--especially a famous man like you--ought to know how to
control himself."

Julian burst out laughing bitterly.

"Send upstairs for my self-control," he said. "It's in _her_
possession--not in mine. Good morning, aunt."

He rose from his chair. Lady Janet instantly pushed him back into it.

"I insist on your staying here," she said, "if it is only for a few
minutes longer. I have something to say to you."

"Does it refer to Miss Roseberry?"

"It refers to the hateful woman who frightened Miss Roseberry. Now are
you satisfied?"

Julian bowed, and settled himself in his chair.

"I don't much like to acknowledge it," his aunt went on. "But I want you
to understand that I have something really serious to speak about,
for once in a way. Julian! that wretch not only frightens Grace--she
actually frightens me."

"Frightens you? She is quite harmless, poor thing."

"'Poor thing'!" repeated Lady Janet. "Did you say 'poor thing'?"

"Yes."

"Is it possible that you pity her?"

"From the bottom of my heart."

The old lady's temper gave way again at that reply. "I hate a man who
can't hate anybody!" she burst out. "If you had been an ancient Roman,
Julian, I believe you would have pitied Nero himself."

Julian cordially agreed with her. "I believe I shoul