"I will wait to convince myself of that. When can you come?"
"Not to-day; to-morrow, early. Servants invariably come at night, which shows their unwillingness and the spirit in which they accept a situation. Here is my address. You understand? I take you on trial only."
"Yes, madam, I understand, and I thank you with all my heart."
"Of course, in these circumstances I can give you no wages for the first month. If we suit each other we will arrange terms afterward. Is that agreeable to you?"
"Quite agreeable, madam. I will come to-morrow morning."
"Very well; I shall expect you before twelve."
That night Emilia went to bed without food; but her week's rent was paid and she left her lodgings without disgrace.
Then commenced a life of torture. The children she had to teach were quarrelsome and vicious, and no taskmaster could have been harder than Mrs. Seaton was to the servants in her house. Two had left; two had given notice to leave. The consequence was that Emilia's mistress called upon her to do every kind of menial office, and willing as Emilia was, she found herself unequal to them. She sat up late at night, and rose early in the morning, played the part of nurse, schoolmistress, lady's maid, and housemaid, never receiving a word of thanks, until existence became unbearable. Driven to despair, without a home, without a friend, without money, she did not know which way to turn. Delicately nurtured, a lady by instinct and education, refined in her manners, and unused to menial work, no more deplorable position could be imagined. It was while she was in this sore strait that she made the acquaintance of Gerald Paget.
Twice in each week she had the privilege of walking out alone for an hour in the afternoon. Gerald, passing her, was attracted by the gentle beauty of her face, and blessed his good fortune when he met her for the second time. On this second occasion chance assisted him to an introduction. She was crossing the road, engrossed in sad thought, when warning shouts aroused her from her musings. There were cabs coming one way, carts another, and between them she was in danger of being run over. She slipped and fell, and Gerald, rushing forward, caught her up and bore her to the pavement. But fright and weakness had prostrated her, and she lay in his arms in a fainting condition. He carried her into a chemist's shop, where she revived. The words of kindness and sympathy which fell upon her ears when she opened her eyes, the tender consideration expressed in Gerald's voice, overpowered the suffering girl, and she burst into a passion of hysterical tears. With difficulty he soothed her, but every word he uttered rendered more profound the impression he had already produced upon the young girl. The unaccustomed notes of tenderness touched Emilia's heart, and that night as she lay in bed she recalled the words and the voice and dwelt with infinite gratitude upon the image of the young gentleman who had treated her with so much gentleness and consideration. But he did not leave her before he saw her safely to Mrs. Seaton's door; she would have had it otherwise, but he would not allow her to have her way, and on their road he heard from her lips the pitiful story of her misfortunes, He made inquiries, and learnt that her story was true, and this increased his pity for her. As she dwelt upon his image on that night, so did he on hers, and thus from their first meeting was established a spiritual connection between them. On the following day he called at Mrs. Seaton's house to inquire how Miss Paget was after her accident, and as this was the first time that lady had heard of it she was not in the most amiable of moods when she next spoke to the young lady she had engaged, and whom she was treating as a slave.