something to propose when rest and quiet have restored you." He opened
the nearest door--the door of the dining-room--and went out.

The servants engaged in completing the decoration of the dinner-table
noticed, when "Mr. Julian" entered the room, that his eyes were
"brighter than ever." He looked (they remarked) like a man who "expected
good news." They were inclined to suspect--though he was certainly
rather young for it--that her ladyship's nephew was in a fair way of
preferment in the Church.

Mercy seated herself on the couch.

There are limits, in the physical organization of man, to the action of
pain. When suffering has reached a given point of intensity the nervous
sensibility becomes incapable of feeling more. The rule of Nature,
in this respect, applies not only to sufferers in the body, but to
sufferers in the mind as well. Grief, rage, terror, have also their
appointed limits. The moral sensibility, like the nervous sensibility,
reaches its period of absolute exhaustion, and feels no more.

The capacity for suffering in Mercy had attained its term. Alone in the
library, she could feel the physical relief of repose; she could
vaguely recall Julian's parting words to her, and sadly wonder what they
meant--she could do no more.

An interval passed; a brief interval of perfect rest.

She recovered herself sufficiently to be able to look at her watch and
to estimate the lapse of time that might yet pass before Julian returned
to her as he had promised. While her mind was still languidly following
this train of thought she was disturbed by the ringing of a bell in the
hall, used to summon the servant whose duties were connected with that
part of the house. In leaving the library, Horace had gone out by the
door which led into the hall, and had failed to close it. She plainly
heard the bell--and a moment later (more plainly still) she heard Lady
Janet's voice!

She started to her feet. Lady Janet's letter was still in the pocket of
her apron--the letter which imperatively commanded her to abstain from
making the very confession that had just passed her lips! It was near
the dinner hour, and the library was the favorite place in which the
mistress of the house and her guests assembled at that time. It was no
matter of doubt; it was an absolute certainty that Lady Janet had only
stopped in the hall on her way into the room.

The alternative for Mercy lay between instantly leaving the library by
the dini