FOR a moment Horace stood thunderstruck, looking in blank astonishment
at Lady Janet. His first words, as soon as he had recovered himself,
were addressed to Julian. “Is this a joke?” he asked, sternly. “If it
is, I for one don’t see the humor of it.”
Julian pointed to the closely written pages of the consul’s letter. “A
man writes in earnest,” he said, “when he writes at such length as this.
The woman seriously gave the name of Grace Roseberry, and when she left
Mannheim she traveled to England for the express purpose of presenting
herself to Lady Janet Roy.” He turned to his aunt. “You saw me start,”
he went on, “when you first mentioned Miss Roseberry’s name in my
hearing. Now you know why.” He addressed himself once more to Horace.
“You heard me say that you, as Miss Roseberry’s future husband, had an
interest in being present at my interview with Lady Janet. Now _you_
know why.”
“The woman is plainly mad,” said Lady Janet. “But it is certainly a
startling form of madness when one first hears of it. Of course we must
keep the matter, for the present at least, a secret from Grace.”
“There can be no doubt,” Horace agreed, “that Grace must be kept in the
dark, in her present state of health. The servants had better be warned
beforehand, in case of this adventuress or madwoman, whichever she may
be, attempting to make her way into the house.”
“It shall be done immediately,” said Lady Janet. “What surprises _me_
Julian (ring the bell, if you please), is that you should describe
yourself in your letter as feeling an interest in this person.”
Julian answered--without ringing the bell.
“I am more interested than ever,” he said, “now I find that Miss
Roseberry herself is your guest at Mablethorpe House.”
“You were always perverse, Julian, as a child, in your likings and
dislikings,” Lady Janet rejoined. “Why don’t you ring the bell?”
“For one good reason, my dear aunt. I don’t wish to hear you tell your
servants to close the door on this friendless creature.”
Lady Janet cast a look at her nephew which plainly expressed that she
thought he had taken a liberty with her.
“You don’t expect me to see the woman?” she asked, in a tone of cold
surprise.
“I hope you will not refuse to see her,” Julian answered, quietly. “I
was out when she called. I must hear what she has to say--and I should
infinitely prefer hearing it in your presence. When I got your reply
to my letter, permitting me to present her to you, I wrote to her
immediately, appointing a meeting here.”
Lady Janet lifted her bright black eyes in mute expostulation to the
carved Cupids and wreaths on the dining-room ceiling.
“When am I to have the honor of the lady’s visit?” she inquired, with
ironical resignation.
“To-day,” answered her nephew, with impenetrable patience.
“At what hour?”
Julian composedly consulted his watch. “She is ten minutes after her
time,” he said, and put his watch back in his pocket again.
At the same moment the servant appeared, and advanced to Julian,
carrying a visiting card on his little silver tray.
“A lady to see you, sir.”
Julian took the card, and, bowing, handed it to his aunt.
“Here she is,” he said, just as quietly as ever.
Lady Janet looked at the card, and tossed it indignantly back to her
nephew. “Miss Roseberry!” she exclaimed. “Printed--actually printed on
her card! Julian, even MY patience has its limits. I refuse to see her!”
The servant was still waiting--not like a human being who took an
interest in the proceedings, but (as became a perfectly bred footman)
like an article of furniture artfully constructed to come and go at
the word of command. Julian gave the word of command, addressing the
admirably constructed automaton by the name of “James.”
“Where is the lady now?” he asked.
“In the breakfast-room, sir.”
“Leave her there, if you please, and wait outside within hearing of the
bell.”
The legs of the furniture-footman acted, and took him noiselessly out of
the room. Julian turned to his aunt.
“Forgive me,” he said, “for venturing to give the man his orders in your
presence. I am very anxious that you should not decide hastily. Surely
we ought to hear what this lady has to say?”
Horace dissented widely from his friend’s opinion. “It’s an insult to
Grace,” he broke out, warmly, “to hear what she has to say!”
Lady Janet nodded her head in high approval. “I think so, too,” said her
ladyship, crossing her handsome old hands resolutely on her lap.
Julian applied himself to answering Horace first.
“Pardon me,” he said. “I have no intention of presuming to reflect on
Miss Roseberry, or of bringing her into the matter at all.--The consul’s
letter,” he went on, speaking to his aunt, “mentions, if you remember,
that the medical authorities of Mannheim were divided in opinion on
their patient’s case. Some of them--the physician-in-chief being among
the number--believe that the recovery of her mind has not accompanied
the recovery of her body.”
“In other words,” Lady Janet remarked, “a madwoman is in my house, and I
am expected to receive her!”
“Don’t let us exaggerate,” said Julian, gently. “It can serve no good
interest, in this serious matter, to exaggerate anything. The consul
assures us, on the authority of the doctor, that she is perfectly gentle
and harmless. If she is really the victim of a mental delusion, the poor
creature is surely an object of compassion, and she ought to be placed
under proper care. Ask your own kind heart, my dear aunt, if it would
not be downright cruelty to turn this forlorn woman adrift in the world
without making some inquiry first.”
Lady Janet’s inbred sense of justice admitted not over-willingly--the
reasonableness as well as the humanity of the view expressed in those
words. “There is some truth in that, Julian,” she said, shifting her
position uneasily in her chair, and looking at Horace. “Don’t you think
so, too?” she added.
“I can’t say I do,” answered Horace, in the positive tone of a man whose
obstinacy is proof against every form of appeal that can be addressed to
him.
The patience of Julian was firm enough to be a match for the obstinacy
of Horace. “At any rate,” he resumed, with undiminished good temper, “we
are all three equally interested in setting this matter at rest. I put
it to you, Lady Janet, if we are not favored, at this lucky moment, with
the very opportunity that we want? Miss Roseberry is not only out of the
room, but out of the house. If we let this chance slip, who can say what
awkward accident may not happen in the course of the next few days?”
“Let the woman come in,” cried Lady Janet, deciding headlong, with her
customary impatience of all delay. “At once, Julian--before Grace can
come back. Will you ring the bell this time?”
This time Julian rang it. “May I give the man his orders?” he
respectfully inquired of his aunt.
“Give him anything you like, and have done with it!” retorted the
irritable old lady, getting briskly on her feet, and taking a turn in
the room to compose herself.
The servant withdrew, with orders to show the visitor in.
Horace crossed the room at the same time--apparently with the intention
of leaving it by the door at the opposite end.
“You are not going away?” exclaimed Lady Janet.
“I see no use in my remaining here,” replied Horace, not very
graciously.
“In that case,” retorted Lady Janet, “remain here because I wish it.”
“Certainly--if you wish it. Only remember,” he added, more obstinately
than ever, “that I differ entirely from Julian’s view. In my opinion the
woman has no claim on us.”
A passing movement of irritation escaped Julian for the first time.
“Don’t be hard, Horace,” he said, sharply. “All women have a claim on
us.”
They had unconsciously gathered together, in the heat of the little
debate, turning their backs on the library door. At the last words
of the reproof administered by Julian to Horace, their attention was
recalled to passing events by the slight noise produced by the opening
and closing of the door. With one accord the three turned and looked in
the direction from which the sounds had come.