im at the door. Horace smiled
satirically, and went to warm himself at the fire.

"Are you going away, Julian?"

"I am only going to the lodge-keeper. I want to give him a word of
warning in case of his seeing her again."

"You will come back here?" (Lady Janet lowered her voice to a whisper.)
"There is really a reason, Julian, for your not leaving the house now."

"I promise not to go away, aunt, until I have provided for your
security. If you, or your adopted daughter, are alarmed by another
intrusion, I give you my word of honor my card shall go to the police
station, however painfully I may feel it myself." (He, too, lowered his
voice at the next words ) "In the meantime, remember what I confessed
to you while we were alone. For my sake, let me see as little of Miss
Roseberry as possible. Shall I find you in this room when I come back?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

He laid a strong emphasis, of look as well as of tone, on that one word.
Lady Janet understood what the emphasis meant.

"Are you really," she whispered, "as much in love with Grace as that?"

Julian laid one hand on his aunt's arm, and pointed with the other to
Horace--standing with his back to them, warming his feet on the fender.

"Well?" said Lady Janet.

"Well," said Julian, with a smile on his lip and a tear in his eye, "I
never envied any man as I envy _him!_"

With those words he left the room.

CHAPTER XV. A WOMAN'S REMORSE.

HAVING warmed his feet to his own entire satisfaction, Horace turned
round from the fireplace, and discovered that he and Lady Janet were
alone.

"Can I see Grace?" he asked.

The easy tone in which he put the question--a tone, as it were, of
proprietorship in "Grace"--jarred on Lady Janet at the moment. For
the first time in her life she found herself comparing Horace with
Julian--to Horace's disadvantage. He was rich; he was a gentleman of
ancient lineage; he bore an unblemished character. But who had the
strong brain? who had the great heart? Which was the Man of the two?

"Nobody can see her," answered Lady Janet. "Not even you!"

The tone of the reply was sharp, with a dash of irony in it. But where
is the modern young man, possessed of health and an independent income,
who is capable of understanding that irony can be presumptuous enough
to address itself to _him?_ Horace (with perfect politeness) declined to
consider himself answered.

"Does your ladyship mean that Miss Roseberry is in bed?" he asked