xed on a little
basket of colored wools which hung on her arm. "Thank you, Lady Janet,"
she said, faintly. "Thank you, Horace."

Horace placed her arm in his, and led her to the sofa. She shivered as
she took her seat, and looked round her. It was the first time she had
seen the dining-room since the day when she had found herself face to
face with the dead-alive.

"Why do you come here, my love?" asked Lady Janet. "The drawing-room
would have been a warmer and a pleasanter place for you."

"I saw a carriage at the front door. I was afraid of meeting with
visitors in the drawing-room."

As she made that reply, the servant came in, and announced the visitors'
names. Lady Janet sighed wearily. "I must go and get rid of them," she
said, resigning herself to circumstances. "What will _you_ do, Grace?"

"I will stay here, if you please."

"I will keep her company," added Horace.

Lady Janet hesitated. She had promised to see her nephew in the
dining-room on his return to the house--and to see him alone. Would
there be time enough to get rid of the visitors and to establish her
adopted daughter in the empty drawing-room before Julian appeared? It
was ten minutes' walk to the lodge, and he had to make the gate-keeper
understand his instructions. Lady Janet decided that she had time enough
at her disposal. She nodded kindly to Mercy, and left her alone with her
lover.

Horace seated himself in the vacant place on the sofa. So far as it was
in his nature to devote himself to any one he was devoted to Mercy. "I
am grieved to see how you have suffered," he said, with honest distress
in his face as he looked at her. "Try to forget what has happened."

"I am trying to forget. Do _you_ think of it much?"

"My darling, it is too contemptible to be thought of."

She placed her work-basket on her lap. Her wasted fingers began absently
sorting the wools inside.

"Have you seen Mr. Julian Gray?" she asked, suddenly.

"Yes."

"What does _he_ say about it?" She looked at Horace for the first time,
steadily scrutinizing his face. Horace took refuge in prevarication.

"I really haven't asked for Julian's opinion," he said.

She looked down again, with a sigh, at the basket on her lap--considered
a little--and tried him once more.

"Why has Mr. Julian Gray not been here for a whole week?" she went on.
"The servants say he has been abroad. Is that true?"

It was useless to deny it. Horace admitted that the servants were ri