Roseberry waited the event.

CHAPTER XVI. THEY MEET AGAIN.

ABSORBED in herself, Mercy failed to notice the opening door or to hear
the murmur of voices in the conservatory.

The one terrible necessity which had been present to her mind at
intervals for a week past was confronting her at that moment. She owed
to Grace Roseberry the tardy justice of owning the truth. The longer her
confession was delayed, the more cruelly she was injuring the woman whom
she had robbed of her identity--the friendless woman who had neither
witnesses nor papers to produce, who was powerless to right her own
wrong. Keenly as she felt this, Mercy failed, nevertheless, to conquer
the horror that shook her when she thought of the impending avowal.
Day followed day, and still she shrank from the unendurable ordeal of
confession--as she was shrinking from it now!

Was it fear for herself that closed her lips?

She trembled--as any human being in her place must have trembled--at the
bare idea of finding herself thrown back again on the world, which had
no place in it and no hope in it for _her_. But she could have overcome
that terror--she could have resigned herself to that doom.

No! it was not the fear of the confession itself, or the fear of the
consequences which must follow it, that still held her silent. The
horror that daunted her was the horror of owning to Horace and to Lady
Janet that she had cheated them out of their love.

Every day Lady Janet was kinder and kinder. Every day Horace was fonder
and fonder of her. How could she confess to Lady Janet? how could she
own to Horace that she had imposed upon him? "I can't do it. They are so
good to me--I can't do it!" In that hopeless way it had ended during the
seven days that had gone by. In that hopeless way it ended again now.

The murmur of the two voices at the further end of the conservatory
ceased. The billiard-room door opened again slowly, by an inch at a
time.

Mercy still kept her place, unconscious of the events that were passing
round her. Sinking under the hard stress laid on it, her mind had
drifted little by little into a new train of thought. For the first time
she found the courage to question the future in a new way. Supposing
her confession to have been made, or supposing the woman whom she had
personated to have discovered the means of exposing the fraud, what
advantage, she now asked herself, would Miss Roseberry derive from Mercy
Merrick's disgrace?