ion which struck a
creeping terror through Grace Roseberry, from the hair of her head to
the soles of her feet:
"_Who are you?_"
The suppressed fury of look and tone which accompanied that question
told, as no violence could have told it, that the limits of Mercy's
endurance had been found at last. In the guardian angel's absence the
evil genius had done its evil work. The better nature which Julian
Gray had brought to life sank, poisoned by the vile venom of a womanly
spiteful tongue. An easy and a terrible means of avenging the outrages
heaped on her was within Mercy's reach, if she chose to take it. In the
frenzy of her indignation she never hesitated--she took it.
"Who are you?" she asked for the second time.
Grace roused herself and attempted to speak. Mercy stopped her with a
scornful gesture of her hand.
"I remember!" she went on, with the same fiercely suppressed rage. "You
are the madwoman from the German hospital who came here a week ago. I am
not afraid of you this time. Sit down and rest yourself, Mercy Merrick."
Deliberately giving her that name to her face, Mercy turned from her
and took the chair which Grace had forbidden her to occupy when the
interview began. Grace started to her feet.
"What does this mean?" she asked.
"It means," answered Mercy, contemptuously, "that I recall every word
I said to you just now. It means that I am resolved to keep my place in
this house."
"Are you out of your senses?"
"You are not far from the bell. Ring it. Do what you asked _me_ to do.
Call in the whole household, and ask them which of us is mad--you or I."
"Mercy Merrick! you shall repent this to the last hour of your life!"
Mercy rose again, and fixed her flashing eyes on the woman who still
defied her.
"I have had enough of you!" she said. "Leave the house while you can
leave it. Stay here, and I will send for Lady Janet Roy."
"You can't send for her! You daren't send for her!"
"I can and I dare. You have not a shadow of a proof against me. I have
got the papers; I am in possession of the place; I have established
myself in Lady Janet's confidence. I mean to deserve your opinion of
me--I will keep my dresses and my jewels and my position in the house. I
deny that I have done wrong. Society has used me cruelly; I owe nothing
to Society. I have a right to take any advantage of it if I can. I deny
that I have injured you. How was I to know that you would come to life
again? Have I degr
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