"He was, like everybody else, in a conspiracy to neglect and
misjudge me."
Lady Janet and Horace exchanged looks. This time it was
impossible for Julian to blame them. The further the stranger's
narrative advanced, the less worthy of serious attention he felt
it to be. The longer she spoke, the more disadvantageously she
challenged comparison with the absent woman, whose name she so
obstinately and so audaciously persisted in assuming as her own.
"Granting all that you have said," Julian resumed, with a last
effort of patience, "what use could Mercy Merrick make of your
letters and your clothes?"
"What use?" repeated Grace, amazed at his not seeing the position
as she saw it. "My clothes were marked with my name. One of my
papers was a letter from my father, introducing me to Lady Janet.
A woman out of a refuge would be quite capable of presenting
herself here in my place."
Spoken entirely at random, spoken without so much as a fragment
of evidence to support them, those last words still had their
effect. They cast a reflection on Lady Janet's adopted daughter
which was too outrageous to be borne. Lady Janet rose instantly.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167