Exit Julian

JULIAN happened to be standing nearest to Mercy. He was the first at her
side when she fell.

In the cry of alarm which burst from him, as he raised her for a
moment in his arms, in the expression of his eyes when he looked at her
death-like face, there escaped the plain--too plain--confession of the
interest which he felt in her, of the admiration which she had aroused
in him. Horace detected it. 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.