"You can add--immeasurably add, madam--to all your past kindness, if you
will only bear with me and forgive me."
"Bear with you and forgive you? I don't understand."
"I will try to explain. Whatever else you may think of me, Lady Janet,
for God's sake don't think me ungrateful!"
Lady Janet held up her hand for silence.
"I dislike explanations," she said, sharply. "Nobody ought to know that
better than you. Perhaps the lady's letter will explain for you. Why
have you not looked at it yet?"
"I am in great trouble, madam, as you noticed just now--"
"Have you any objection to my knowing who your visitor is?"
"No, Lady Janet."
"Let me look at her card, then."
Mercy gave the matron's card to Lady Janet, as she had given the
matron's telegram to Horace.
Lady Janet read the name on the card--considered--decided that it was
a name quite unknown to her--and looked next at the address: "Western
District Refuge, Milburn Road."
"A lady connected with a Refuge?" she said, speaking to herself; "and
calling here by appointment--if I remember the servant's message? A
strange time to choose, if she has come for a subscription!"
She paused. Her brow contracted; her face hardened. A word from her
would now have brought the interview to its inevitable end, and she
refused to speak the word. To the last moment she persisted in ignoring
the truth! Placing the card on the couch at her side, she pointed with
her long yellow-white forefinger to the printed letter lying side by
side with her own letter on Mercy's lap.
"Do you mean to read it, or not?" she asked.
Mercy lifted her eyes, fast filling with tears, to Lady Janet's face.
"May I beg that your ladyship will read it for me?" she said--and placed
the matron's letter in Lady Janet's hand.
It was a printed circular announcing a new development in the charitable
work of the Refuge. Subscribers were informed that it had been decided
to extend the shelter and the training of the institution (thus far
devoted to fallen women alone) so as to include destitute and helpless
children found wandering in the streets. The question of the number
of children to be thus rescued and protected was left dependent, as a
matter of course, on the bounty of the friends of the Refuge, the cost
of the maintenance of each child being stated at the lowest
possible rate. A list of influential persons who had increased their
subscriptions so as to cover the cost, and a brief statement of the
progress already made with the new work, completed the appeal, and
brought the circular to its end.
The lines traced in pencil (in the matron's handwriting) followed on the
blank page.
"Your letter tells me, my dear, that you would like--remembering your
own childhood--to be employed when you return among us in saving other
poor children left helpless on the world. Our circular will inform you
that I am able to meet your wishes. My first errand this evening in
your neighborhood was to take charge of a poor child--a little girl--who
stands sadly in need of our care. I have ventured to bring her with me,
thinking she might help to reconcile you to the coming change in your
life. You will find us both waiting to go back with you to the old home.
I write this instead of saying it, hearing from the servant that you are
not alone, and being unwilling to intrude myself, as a stranger, on the
lady of the house."