CHAPTER XXIV. SLANDER.

Later in the day Mrs. Seaton was informed that a gentleman was waiting to see her. Entering the room she saw Gerald Paget. She received him as usual with a frown, of which he took no notice. By this time he was hardened to the coldness of her receptions of him. Besides, he had prepared himself for the interview, and knew pretty well what he intended to say to her.

"I thought, Mr. Paget," she said, "that I had made you understand it is not my wish to encourage your visits to any of my servants."

"I did not inquire for any of your servants," he said, very politely, "but for you."

"What have you to say to me?"

"Something to the point--presently. First, however, I must correct you in a misconception into which you appear to have fallen. My visits to this house have been quite open, and have not been made to a servant."

"Indeed! To whom, then?"

"To a lady who accepted the position of governess to your children. It is not usual to call these gentlewomen servants."

"I decline," said Mrs. Seaton, "to enter into any argument with you on the point. I know the exact position of persons in my employ and the proper titles to give them. You are a young man, and have much to learn."

"I am aware of it, Mrs. Seaton; you, also, have something to learn. But I would impress strongly upon you the fact that Miss Braham is a lady, and--your equal."

"By no means--but I shall not argue. Oblige me by coming at once to the purport of your visit to me."

"The purport is a grave one, Mrs. Seaton, and I shall be sorry if the result is not satisfactory to you. A few days ago I addressed a letter to Miss Braham, which has not reached her hands."

"What has that to do with me?" Mrs. Seaton asked this question without flinching. She had received the letter, read it, and if she had any fear of consequences she did not show it. Her manner was rather scornful than guilty.

"A great deal I should say," replied Gerald. "It is no light matter to purloin a letter addressed to another person."

"Purloin, sir!"

"That is the word I have used, and intended to use. I wish to know what you have done with that letter?"

"I have done nothing with it. No such letter was ever left at this house to my knowledge."

"What if I set afoot an inquiry which would prove that to be not the truth?"

Mrs. Seaton rang the bell. "I must request you to leave the house," she said.

"I will do so in a minute or two. I happen to know that your letter-box is kept locked, and that no one opens it but yourself. I regret to be compelled to say to a lady that it is a wicked and cowardly action to appropriate a letter not addressed to herself. Of such an action you have undoubtedly been guilty. May I inquire if the letter I refer to is still in existence?"

"You may inquire what you please, sir, but I shall make no reply to your insults. I presume you have obtained certain information from Miss Braham.

"Yes, she informed me that she had not received a letter I wrote to her."

"She informed you," said Mrs. Seaton, with a venomous look. "When?"

"This afternoon."

"I understand. You and she are in the habit of meeting in secret outside my house. Such conduct is infamous, and now that I have positive knowledge of such proceedings I shall know how to act. Mr. Paget, we are speaking here in private, with no listeners to report what is said. Let me advise you to be careful as to what you say or do about this imaginary letter of yours. The young person you refer to may have a good name to lose, and it will be foolish on your part to set a lady of my standing in society against her. Mud will stick, Mr. Paget, never mind, by whom it is thrown, but when it is thrown by a lady or gentleman of repute it will stick all the closer. I learn, too late, that you have used my house as an assignation house----"

"You are stating what is false," cried Gerald, indignantly.

"As an assignation house," repeated Mrs. Seaton, with a malicious smile. "Having discovered your baseness--for you are no gentleman, Mr. Paget, and the other person implicated is no lady--there is only one course open to me. That course I shall pursue. If you do not leave my presence instantly I shall send for the police to remove you."

With that, the venomous woman threw open the door, and Gerald Paget, dismayed and discomfited, took his departure.

"A nice mess I have made of it," he thought, as he walked ruefully from the house, without venturing to look back. "What on earth made me beard the lioness in her den? The lioness! Not at all. There is something of nobility in that breed, and Mrs. Seaton hasn't a particle of nobility about her. She is a serpent. Her fangs are poisonous. How will she act toward Emilia? Mud will stick, she says. But what does it matter if Emilia loves me?"

He allowed himself to be carried away by his enthusiasm. He was young, impulsive, honest, and straightforward. Grand weapons in honorable warfare, but when is war honorable? The world, with its hidden snares and pitfalls, lay before him and Emilia, in whose pure souls faith and love shone radiant. How would it fare with them when pitted against envy, greed, and malice? Here was Mrs. Seaton, ready to defame and blacken; and travelling swiftly toward them was the beggar and spendthrift, Leonard, the man of selfish pleasure.