And I have no friend but you." In those simple words she tried her powers of persuasion on him for the first time.
Between perplexity and distress Julian was, for the moment, at a loss how to answer her.

The love for Mercy which he dared not acknowledge was as vital a feeling in him as the faith in her which he had been free to avow.

To refuse anything that she asked of him in her sore need--and, more even than that, to refuse to hear the confession which it had been her first impulse to make to _him_--these were cruel sacrifices to his sense of what was due to Horace and of what was due to himself.

But shrink as he might, even from the appearance of deserting her, it was impossible for him (except under a reserve which was almost equivalent to a denial) to grant her request.
"All that I can do I will do," he said.

"The doors shall be left unclosed, and I will remain in the next room, on this condition, that Horace knows of it as well as you.