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.