The New Magdalen | Page 8

had
just said. Had she forgotten the presence of another person in the room?
Grace's curiosity left Grace no resource but to say a word on her side.
"Who was the man?" she asked. "How did he befriend you?"
"Befriend me? He doesn't even know that such a person as I am is in
existence."
That strange answer, naturally enough, only strengthened the anxiety of
Grace to hear more. "You said just now--" she began.
"I said just now that he saved me. He did save me; you shall hear how.
One Sunday our regular clergyman at the Refuge was not able to
officiate. His place was taken by a stranger, quite a young man. The
matron told us the stranger's name was Julian Gray. I sat in the back
row of seats, under the shadow of the gallery, where I could see him
without his seeing me. His text was from the words, 'Joy shall be in
heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine
just persons, which need no repentance. 'What happier women might
have thought of his sermon I cannot say; there was not a dry eye among
us at the Refuge. As for me, he touched my heart as no man has
touched it before or since. The hard despair melted in me at the sound
of his voice; the weary round of my life showed its nobler side again

while he spoke. From that time I have accepted my hard lot, I have
been a patient woman. I might have been something more, I might have
been a happy woman, if I could have prevailed on myself to speak to
Julian Gray."
"What hindered you from speaking to him?"
"I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of making my hard life harder still."
A woman who could have sympathized with her would perhaps have
guessed what those words meant. Grace was simply embarrassed by her;
and Grace failed to guess.
"I don't understand you," she said.
There was no alternative for Mercy but to own the truth in plain words.
She sighed, and said the words. "I was afraid I might interest him in my
sorrows, and might set my heart on him in return." The utter absence of
any fellow-feeling with her on Grace's side expressed itself
unconsciously in the plainest terms.
"You!" she exclaimed, in a tone of blank astonishment.
The nurse rose slowly to her feet. Grace's expression of surprise told
her plainly--almost brutally--that her confession had gone far enough.
"I astonish you?" she said. "Ah, my young lady, you don't know what
rough usage a woman's heart can bear, and still beat truly! Before I saw
Julian Gray I only knew men as objects of horror to me. Let us drop the
subject. The preacher at the Refuge is nothing but a remembrance
now--the one welcome remembrance of my life! I have nothing more to
tell you. You insisted on hearing my story--you have heard it."
"I have not heard how you found employment here," said Grace,
continuing the conversation with uneasy politeness, as she best might.

Mercy crossed the room, and slowly raked together the last living
embers of the fire.
"The matron has friends in France," she answered, "who are connected
with the military hospitals. It was not difficult to get me the place,
under those circumstances. Society can find a use for me here. My hand
is as light, my words of comfort are as welcome, among those suffering
wretches" (she pointed to the room in which the wounded men were
lying) "as if I was the most reputable woman breathing. And if a stray
shot comes my way before the war is over--well! Society will be rid of
me on easy terms."
She stood looking thoughtfully into the wreck of the fire--as if she saw
in it the wreck of her own life. Common humanity made it an act of
necessity to say something to her. Grace considered--advanced a step
toward her--stopped--and took refuge in the most trivial of all the
common phrases which one human being can address to another.
"If there is anything I can do for you--" she began. The sentence,
halting there, was never finished. Miss Roseberry was just merciful
enough toward the lost woman who had rescued and sheltered her to
feel that it was needless to say more.
The nurse lifted her noble head and advanced slowly toward the canvas
screen to return to her duties. "Miss Roseberry might have taken my
hand!" she thought to herself, bitterly. No! Miss Roseberry stood there
at a distance, at a loss what to say next. "What can you do for me?"
Mercy asked, stung by the cold courtesy of her companion into a
momentary outbreak of contempt. "Can you change my