ime. The bare possibility that she might earn her pardon if she was
allowed to plead her own cause was a possibility still left. To let her
win on Horace to forgive her, was death to the love that still filled
his heart in secret. But he never hesitated. With a resolution which the
weaker man was powerless to resist, he took him by the arm and led him
back to his place.

"For her sake, and for your sake, you shall not condemn her unheard," he
said to Horace, firmly. "One temptation to deceive you after another
has tried her, and she has resisted them all. With no discovery to fear,
with a letter from the benefactress who loves her commanding her to be
silent, with everything that a woman values in this world to lose, if
she owns what she has done--_this_ woman, for the truth's sake, has
spoken the truth. Does she deserve nothing at your hands in return for
that? Respect her, Horace--and hear her."

Horace yielded. Julian turned to Mercy.

"You have allowed me to guide you so far," he said. "Will you allow me
to guide you still?"

Her eyes sank before his; her bosom rose and fell rapidly. His
influence over her maintained its sway. She bowed her head in speechless
submission.

"Tell him," Julian proceeded, in accents of entreaty, not of
command--"tell him what your life has been. Tell him how you were tried
and tempted, with no friend near to speak the words which might have
saved you. And then," he added, raising her from the chair, "let him
judge you--if he can!"

He attempted to lead her across the room to the place which Horace
occupied. But her submission had its limits. Half-way to the place she
stopped, and refused to go further. Julian offered her a chair. She
declined to take it. Standing with one hand on the back of the chair,
she waited for the word from Horace which would permit her to speak. She
was resigned to the ordeal. Her face was calm; her mind was clear. The
hardest of all humiliations to endure--the humiliation of acknowledging
her name--she had passed through. Nothing remained but to show her
gratitude to Julian by acceding to his wishes, and to ask pardon of
Horace before they parted forever. In a little while the Matron would
arrive at the house--and then it would be over.

Unwillingly Horace looked at her. Their eyes met. He broke out suddenly
with something of his former violence.

"I can't realize it even now!" he cried. "_Is_ it true that you are not
Grace Roseberry? Don't look at me