It was night, and she heard a voice in the adjoining room that smote her with terror, the voice of Mrs. Seaton speaking to the ladies who had befriended her. More successful than Gerald, Mrs. Seaton had hunted her down.
"It's a neighborly duty," Mrs. Seaton was saying, "to prevent kind-hearted ladies like yourselves from being imposed upon. I have suffered from her artfulness and wickedness myself, and there was no one to warn me; but if you allow yourself to be taken in by her you will do it with your eyes open."
"She is very gentle-mannered," said one of the two ladies who had befriended her, "and we have a great pity for her. Surely she cannot be so bad as you paint her."
"Facts are facts," said Mrs. Seaton. "You do not even know her name."
"She is too weak to enter into particulars," said the lady, "and we forbore to press her."
"Too weak!" exclaimed Mrs. Seaton, with a derisive laugh. "Fiddlesticks! Excuse me for speaking so, but I hardly have patience with her. Her weakness is put on; you are no match for the creature. Of course if you do not mind being disgraced by association with such a character it is no business of mine; but I ought to know her better than you do."
"You use strong words," said the lady very gravely. "Disgraced! It is too dreadful to think of. What is her name?"
"Emilia Braham. Her father died deeply involved, and would no doubt have swindled his creditors if he had lived; fortunately for them he died suddenly, and they were able to step in and save something from the wreck. I will tell you the whole story if you care to hear it."
"You shall. After her father's death she came to me and begged me to give her a situation. I took her out of pity. 'I will give you a trial,' I said to her. So she came into my house, and I treated her as a daughter. After a time I had my suspicions, and I do not mind confessing that I set a watch upon her. Then I discovered that she was carrying on a disgraceful intimacy with Mr. Gerald Paget, meeting him regularly and secretly, and keeping out at all hours. When she found that all was known she told her gentleman friend, who came to me and bullied me. In return for his insults I showed him the door, and forbade his ever entering my house again. Then in the evening I sent for the creature and informed her that she must leave my service the following morning--that is, to-day. The language she used to me was dreadful, and she said she would go at once. I told her I would not allow it; badly as she had behaved, I felt that it was not right for her, a single girl, to leave the house at night. However, she insisted, and I had to give way. To protect myself from her malicious slanders, I wrote out a paper which she signed in the presence of another servant, who is ready to testify that the creature knew perfectly well what she was doing. Here it is; you can read it. The other servant witnessed her signature, as you see. Then she left the house, and I soon found out why. She had arranged a clandestine meeting with Mr. Paget that very night--I saw her with my own eyes in his embrace. An hour or two afterward they got into a cab--I can give you the number of the cab and the name of the driver--and drove to Mr. Paget's residence, he being a bachelor, mind you, and living alone with only two female servants in his employ. When he took the creature home he knew quite well that his domestics were abed and asleep, and that there was no risk of his scandalous doings being discovered. But he reckoned without his host. There is a Providence--yes, happily there is a Providence. The fire occurred, and the creature you are harboring rushed out of Mr. Paget's house. Ask her how she got into it. In the middle of the night, too. I ask you, as ladies of common-sense, what construction does it bear? No artfully-invented tale can explain it away. You should be thankful to me for putting you on your guard. Oh, you don't know these creatures!"