Not even that haughty language, not even those pitiless tones, could extinguish in Mercy’s heart the sacred memories of past kindness and past love. She fell on her knees--her outstretched hands touched Lady Janet’s dress. Lady Janet sharply drew her dress away, and sternly repeated her last words. “Yes? or No?” “Yes.” She had owned it at last! To this end Lady Janet had submitted to Grace Roseberry; had offended Horace Holmcroft; had stooped, for the first time in her life, to concealments and compromises that degraded her. After all that she had sacrificed and suffered, there Mercy knelt at her feet, self-convicted of violating her commands, trampling on her feelings, deserting her house! And who was the woman who had done this? The same woman who had perpetrated the fraud, and who had persisted in the fraud until her benefactress had descended to become her accomplice. Then, and then only, she had suddenly discovered that it was her sacred duty to tell the truth! In proud silence the great lady met the blow that had fallen on her. In proud silence she turned her back on her adopted daughter and walked to the door. Mercy made her last appeal to the kind friend whom she had offended--to the second mother whom she had loved. “Lady Janet! Lady Janet! Don’t leave me without a word. Oh, madam, try to feel for me a little! I am returning to a life of humiliation--the shadow of my old disgrace is falling on me once more. We shall never meet again. Even though I have not deserved it, let my repentance plead with you! Say you forgive me!” Lady Janet turned round on the threshold of the door. “I never forgive ingratitude,” she said. “Go back to the Refuge.” The door opened and closed on her. Mercy was alone again in the room. Unforgiven by Horace, unforgiven by Lady Janet! She put her hands to her burning head and tried to think. Oh, for the cool air of the night! Oh, for the friendly shelter of the Refuge! She could feel those sad longings in her: it was impossible to think. She rang the bell--and shrank back the instant she had done it. Had _she_ any right to take that liberty? She ought to have thought of it before she rang. Habit--all habit. How many hundreds of times she had rung the bell at Mablethorpe House! The servant came in. She amazed the man--she spoke to him so timidly: she even apologized for troubling him! “I am sorry to disturb you. Will you be so kind as to say to the lady that I am ready for her?” “Wait to give that message,” said a voice behind them, “until you hear the bell rung again.” Mercy looked round in amazement. Julian had returned to the library by the dining-room door. CHAPTER XXIX. 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.