Let her confront the alternative of consigning Grace Roseberry to a mad-house or of confessing the truth--and what would happen?
If Julian's confidence in her was a confidence soundly placed, she would nobly pardon the outrages that had been heaped upon her, and she would do justice to the woman whom she had wronged.
If, on the other hand, his belief in her was nothing better than the blind belief of an infatuated man--if she faced the alternative and persisted in asserting her assumed identity--what then?
Julian's faith in Mercy refused to let that darker side of the question find a place in his thoughts.

It rested entirely with him to bring the officer into the house.

He had prevented Lady Janet from making any mischievous use of his card by sending to the police station and warning them to attend to no message which they might receive unless the card produced bore his signature.

Knowing the responsibility that he was taking on himself--knowing that Mercy had made no confession to him to which it was possible to appeal--he had signed his name without an instant's hesitation: and there he stood now, looking at the woman whose better nature he was determined to vindicate, the only calm person in the room.
Horace's jealousy saw something suspiciously suggestive of a private understanding in Julian's earnest attention and in Mercy's downcast face.

Having no excuse for open interference, he made an effort to part them.
"You spoke just now," he said to Julian, "of wishing to say a word in private to that person." (He pointed to Grace.) "Shall we retire, or will you take her into the library ?" "I refuse to have anything to say to him," Grace burst out, before Julian could answer.