CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH.

THE LAST TRIAL.

THE servant left them together. Mercy spoke first.

Mr. Gray!' she exclaimed, 'why have you delayed my message? If you knew all, you would know that it is far from being a kindness to me to keep me in this house.'

He advanced closer to her-surprised by her words, alarmed by her looks.

'Has anyone been here in my absence?' he asked.

Lady Janet has been here in your absence. I can't speak of it-my heart feels crushed-I can bear no more. Let me go !'

Briefly as she had replied, she had said enough. Julian's knowledge of Lady Janet's character told him what had happened. His face showed plainly that he was disappointed as well as distressed.

'I had hoped to have been with you when you and my aunt met, and to have prevented this,' he said. 'Believe me, she will atone for all that she may have harshly and hastily done, when she has had time to think. Try not to regret it, if she has made your hard sacrifice harder still. She has only raised you the higher-she has additionally ennobled you and endeared you in my estimation. Forgive me, if I own this in plain words. I cannot control myself, I feel toe strongly.'

At other times Mercy might have heard the coming avowal in his tones, might have discovered it in his eyes. As it was, her delicate insight was dulled, her fine perception was blunted. She held out her hand to him, feeling a vague conviction that he was kinder to her than ever-and feeling no more.

'I must thank you for the last time,' she said. 'As long as life is left, my gratitude will be a part of my life. Let me go. While I have some strength left, let me go!'

She tried to leave him, and ring the bell. He held her hand firmly, and drew her closer to him.

'To the Refuge?' he asked.

Yes!' she said. 'Home again!'

'Don't say that!' he exclaimed.

that!' he exclaimed. I can't bear to hear it. Don't call the Refuge your home!' 'What else is it? Where else can I go?'

'I have come here to tell you. I said, if you remember, I had something to propose.'

She felt the fervent pressure of his hand; she saw the mounting enthusiasm flashing in his eyes. Her weary mind roused itself a little. She began to tremble under the electric influence of his touch.

"Something to propose?' she repeated. What is there to propose?'

'Let me ask you a question on my side. have you done to-day?'

What

You know what I have done-it is your work,' she answered humbly. Why return to it now?'

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'I return to it for the last time; I return to it, with a purpose which you will soon understand. You have

abandoned your marriage engagement; you have forfeited Lady Janet's love; you have ruined all your worldly prospects-you are now returning, self-devoted, to a life which you have yourself described as a life without hope. And all this you have done of your own free will-at a time when you are absolutely secure of your position in the house-for the sake of speaking the truth. Now tell me. Is a woman who can make that sacrifice a woman who will prove unworthy of the trust, if a man places in her keeping his honour and his name?'

She understood him at last. She broke away from him with a cry. She stood with her hands clasped, trembling and looking at him.

He gave her no time to think. The words poured from his lips, without conscious will or conscious effort of his own.

'Mercy, from the first moment when I saw you I loved you! You are free; I may own it; I may ask you to be my wife!'

She drew back from him farther and farther, with a wild, imploring gesture of her hand.

'No! no!' she cried. Think of what you are saying! Think of what you would sacrifice! It cannot, must not, be.'

His face darkened with a sudden dread. His head fell on his breast. His voice sank so low that she

could barely hear it.

'I had forgotten something,' he said. "You have reminded me of it.'

She ventured back a little nearer to him. 'Have I offended you?'

He smiled sadly. You have enlightened me. I had forgotten that it doesn't follow, because I love you, that you should love me in return. Say that it is so, Mercy—and I leave you.'

A faint tinge of colour rose on her face-then left it again paler than ever. Her eyes looked downward timidly under the eager gaze that he fastened on her.

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'How can I say so?' she answered simply. Where is the woman in my place whose heart could resist you?' He eagerly advanced; he held out his arms to her in breathless, speechless joy. She drew back from him once more with a look that horrified him-a look of blank despair.

'Am I fit to be your wife?' she asked. 'Must I remind you of what you owe to your high position, your spotless integrity, your famous name? Think of all you have done for me, and then think of the black ingratitude of it if I ruin you for life by consenting to our marriage-if I selfishly, cruelly, wickedly, drag you down to the level of a woman like me?'

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'I raise you to my level when I make you my wife,' he answered. For heaven's sake do me justice! Don't refer me to the world and its opinions. It rests with you, and you alone, to make the misery or the happiness of my life. The world! Good God! What can the world give me in exchange for You?'

She clasped her hands imploringly; the tears flowed fast over her cheeks.

'Oh, have pity on my weakness!' she cried. 'Kindest, best of men, help me to do my hard duty towards you! It is so hard, after all that I have suffered-when my

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heart is yearning for peace and happiness and love!' She checked herself, shuddering at the words that had escaped her. Remember how Mr. Holmcroft has used me! Remember how Lady Janet has left me! Remember what I have told you of my life! The scorn of every creature you know would strike at you through me. No! no! no! Not a word more. Spare me! pity me! leave me!'

Her voice failed her; sobs choked her utterance. He sprang to her and took her in his arms. She was incapable of resisting him; but there was no yielding in her. Her head lay on his bosom, passive-horribly passive, like the head of a corpse.

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Mercy! My darling! We will go away-we will leave England-we will take refuge among new people, in a new world-I will change my name-I will break with relatives, friends, everybody. Anything, anything, rather than lose you!'

She lifted her head slowly and looked at him.

He suddenly released her; he reeled back like a man staggered by a blow, and dropped into a chair. Before she had uttered a word he saw the terrible resolution in her face-Death, rather than yield to her own weakness and disgrace him.

She stood with her hands lightly clasped in front of her. Her grand head was raised; her soft grey eyes shone again undimmed by tears. The storm of emotion had swept over her and had passed away. A sad tranquillity was in her face; a gentle resignation was in her voice. The calm of a martyr was the calm that confronted him as she spoke her last words.