ge from irony to
anger. "Would you like to hear what the bet was?" he asked.

"I should prefer seeing you able to control yourself in the presence of
this lady," Julian answered, quietly.

"I offered to lay Lady Janet two hundred pounds to one," Horace
proceeded, "that I should find you here, making love to Miss Roseberry
behind my back."

Mercy interfered before Julian could reply.

"If you cannot speak without insulting one of us," she said, "permit me
to request that you will _not_ address yourself to Mr. Julian Gray."

Horace bowed to her with a mockery of respect.

"Pray don't alarm yourself--I am pledged to be scrupulously civil to
both of you," he said. "Lady Janet only allowed me to leave her on
condition of my promising to behave with perfect politeness. What else
can I do? I have two privileged people to deal with--a parson and
a woman. The parson's profession protects him, and the woman's sex
protects her. You have got me at a disadvantage, and you both of
you know it. I beg to apologize if I have forgotten the clergyman's
profession and the lady's sex."

"You have forgotten more than that," said Julian. "You have forgotten
that you were born a gentleman and bred a man of honor. So far as I am
concerned, I don't ask you to remember that I am a clergyman--I obtrude
my profession on nobody--I only ask you to remember your birth and your
breeding. It is quite bad enough to cruelly and unjustly suspect an old
friend who has never forgotten what he owes to you and to himself. But
it is still more unworthy of you to acknowledge those suspicions in
the hearing of a woman whom your own choice has doubly bound you to
respect."

He stopped. The two eyed each other for a moment in silence.

It was impossible for Mercy to look at them, as she was looking now,
without drawing the inevitable comparison between the manly force and
dignity of Julian and the womanish malice and irritability of Horace.
A last faithful impulse of loyalty toward the man to whom she had
been betrothed impelled her to part them, before Horace had hopelessly
degraded himself in her estimation by contrast with Julian.

"You had better wait to speak to me," she said to him, "until we are
alone."

"Certainly," Horace answered with a sneer, "if Mr. Julian Gray will
permit it."

Mercy turned to Julian, with a look which said plainly, "Pity us both,
and leave us!"

"Do you wish me to go?" he asked.

"Add to all your other kindnesses to