There was the quick suspicion of jealousy in the movement by which he joined Julian; there was the ready resentment of jealousy in the tone in which he pronounced the words,
"Leave her to me."
Julian resigned her in silence.
A faint flush appeared on his pale face as he drew back while Horace carried her to the sofa.
His eyes sunk to the ground; he seemed to be meditating self-reproachfully on the tone in which his friend had spoken to him.
After having been the first to take an active part in meeting the calamity that had happened, he was now, to all appearance, insensible to everything that was passing in the room.
A touch on his shoulder roused him.
He turned and looked round.
The woman who had done the mischief—the stranger in the poor black garments—was standing behind him.
She pointed to the prostrate figure on the sofa, with a merciless smile.
"You wanted a proof just now," she said. "There it is!"
Horace heard her.
He suddenly left the sofa and joined Julian.
His face, naturally ruddy, was pale with suppressed fury.
"Take that wretch away!" he said.
"Instantly! or I won't answer for what I may do."
Those words recalled Julian to himself.
He looked round the room.
Lady Janet and the housekeeper were together, in attendance on the swooning woman.
The startled servants were congregated in the library doorway.
One of them offered to run to the nearest doctor; another asked if he should fetch the police.
Julian silenced them by a gesture, and turned to Horace.
"Compose yourself," he said. "Leave me to remove her quietly from the house."
He took Grace by the hand as he spoke.
She hesitated, and tried to release herself.
Julian pointed to the group at the sofa, and to the servants looking on.
"You have made an enemy of every one in this room," he said, "and you have not a friend in London.
Do you wish to make an enemy of me?
Her head drooped; she made no reply; she waited, dumbly obedient to the firmer will than her own.
Julian ordered the servants crowding together in the doorway to withdraw.
He followed them into the library, leading Grace after him by the hand.
Before closing the door he paused, and looked back into the dining-room.
"Is she recovering?" he asked, after a moment's hesitation.
Lady Janet's voice answered him.
"Not yet."
"Shall I send for the nearest doctor?"
Horace interposed.
He declined to let Julian associate himself, even in that indirect manner, with Mercy's recovery.
"If the doctor is wanted," he said, "I will go for him myself."
Julian closed the library door.
He absently released Grace; he mechanically pointed to a chair.
She sat down in silent surprise, following him with her eyes as he walked slowly to and fro in the room.
For the moment his mind was far away from her, and from all that had happened since her appearance in the house.
It was impossible that a man of his fineness of perception could mistake the meaning of Horace's conduct toward him.
He was questioning his own heart, on the subject of Mercy, sternly and unreservedly as it was his habit to do.
"After only once seeing her," he thought, "has she produced such an impression on me that Horace can discover it, before I have even suspected it myself?
Can the time have come already when I owe it to my friend to see her no more?"
He stopped irritably in his walk.
As a man devoted to a serious calling in life, there was something that wounded his self-respect in the bare suspicion that he could be guilty of the purely sentimental extravagance called "love at first sight."
He had paused exactly opposite to the chair in which Grace was seated.