e."

With a strange reluctance she opened the envelope. With a sinking
heart she read the lines in which Lady Janet, as "mother and friend,"
commanded her absolutely to suppress the confession which she had
pledged herself to make in the sacred interests of justice and truth.
A low cry of despair escaped her, as the cruel complication in her
position revealed itself in all its unmerited hardship. "Oh, Lady Janet,
Lady Janet!" she thought, "there was but one trial more left in my hard
lot--and it comes to me from _you!_"

She handed the letter to Julian. He took it from her in silence. His
pale complexion turned paler still as he read it. His eyes rested on her
compassionately as he handed it back.

"To my mind," he said, "Lady Janet herself sets all further doubt at
rest. Her letter tells me what she wanted when she sent for Horace, and
why my name was mentioned between them."

"Tell me!" cried Mercy, eagerly.

He did not immediately answer her. He sat down again in the chair by her
side, and pointed to the letter.

"Has Lady Janet shaken your resolution?" he asked.

"She has strengthened my resolution," Mercy answered. "She has added a
new bitterness to my remorse."

She did not mean it harshly, but the reply sounded harshly in Julian's
ears. It stirred the generous impulses, which were the strongest
impulses in his nature. He who had once pleaded with Mercy for
compassionate consideration for herself now pleaded with her for
compassionate consideration for Lady Janet. With persuasive gentleness
he drew a little nearer, and laid his hand on her arm.

"Don't judge her harshly," he said. "She is wrong, miserably wrong. She
has recklessly degraded herself; she has recklessly tempted you. Still,
is it generous--is it even just--to hold her responsible for deliberate
sin? She is at the close of her days; she can feel no new affection; she
can never replace you. View her position in that light, and you will see
(as I see) that it is no base motive which has led her astray. Think of
her wounded heart and her wasted life--and say to yourself forgivingly,
She loves me!"

Mercy's eyes filled with tears.

"I do say it!" she answered. "Not forgivingly--it is _I_ who have need
of forgiveness. I say it gratefully when I think of her--I say it with
shame and sorrow when I think of myself."

He took her hand for the first time. He looked, guiltlessly looked, at
her downcast face. He spoke as he had spoken at the memorab