"Is that Lady Janet Roy?"
she asked, with her eyes fixed on the mistress of the house.
Julian answered, and drew back to watch the result.
The woman in the poor black garments changed her position for the
first time. She moved slowly across the room to the place at
which Lady Janet was sitting, and addressed her respectfully with
perfect self-possession of manner. Her whole demeanor, from the
moment when she had appeared at the door, had expressed--at once
plainly and becomingly--confidence in the reception that awaited
her.
"Almost the last words my father said to me on his death-bed,
"she began, "were words, madam, which told me to expect
protection and kindness from you."
It was not Lady Janet's business to speak. She listened with the
blandest attention. She waited with the most exasperating silence
to hear more.
Grace Roseberry drew back a step--not intimidated--only mortified
and surprised. "Was my father wrong?" she asked, with a simple
dignity of tone and manner which forced Lady Janet to abandon her
policy of silence, in spite of herself.
"Who was your father?" she asked, coldly.
Grace Roseberry answered the question in a tone of stern
surprise.
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