Ring the bell."
"Lady Janet, I must submit to my hard lot.
I cannot hope to associate myself again with any future plans of yours—"
"What! you are afraid of our 'Bohemian life' in Paris?
Observe this, Grace! If there is one thing I hate more than another, it is 'an old head on young shoulders.'
I say no more.
Ring the bell."
"This cannot go on, Lady Janet!
No words can say how unworthy I feel of your kindness, how ashamed I am—"
"Upon my honor, my dear, I agree with you.
You ought to be ashamed, at your age, of making me get up to ring the bell."
Her obstinacy was immovable; she attempted to rise from the couch. But one choice was left to Mercy.
She anticipated Lady Janet, and rang the bell.
The man-servant came in.
He had his little letter-tray in his hand, with a card on it, and a sheet of paper beside the card, which looked like an open letter.
"You know where my courier lives when he is in London?' asked Lady Janet.
"Yes, my lady."
"Send one of the grooms to him on horseback; I am in a hurry.
The courier is to come here without fail to-morrow morning—in time for the tidal train to Paris.
You understand?"
"Yes, my lady."
"What have you got there?
Anything for me?"
"For Miss Roseberry, my lady."
As he answered, the man handed the card and the open letter to Mercy.
"The lady is waiting in the morning-room, miss.
She wished me to say she has time to spare, and she will wait for you if you are not ready yet."
Having delivered his message in those terms, he withdrew.
Mercy read the name on the card.
The matron had arrived!
She looked at the letter next.
It appeared to be a printed circular, with some lines in pencil added on the empty page.
Printed lines and written lines swam before her eyes.
She felt, rather than saw, Lady Janet's attention steadily and suspiciously fixed on her.
With the matron's arrival the foredoomed end of the flimsy false pretenses and the cruel delays had come.
"A friend of yours, my dear?"
"Yes, Lady Janet."
"Am I acquainted with her?"
"I think not, Lady Janet."
"You appear to be agitated.
Does your visitor bring bad news?
Is there anything that I can do for you?"
"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.