Selah listened in blank amazement to this singular avowal of heterodox opinion from an obviously religious person. What Ronald Le Breton could be she couldn’t imagine; and she thought with an inward smile of the very different way in which her friends at Hastings would have discussed the spiritual character of a wicked secularist.
Just at that moment a latch-key turned lightly in the street door, and two sets of footsteps came down the passage to Lady Le Breton’s little back breakfast-room. One set turned up the staircase, the other halted for a second at the breakfast-room doorway. Then the door opened gently, and Herbert Le Breton and Selah Briggs stood face to face again in blank astonishment.
There was a moment’s pause, as Selah rose with burning cheeks from the chair where she was sitting; and neither spoke a word as they looked with eyes of mutual suspicion and dislike into each other’s faces. At last Herbert Le Breton turned with some acerbity to his brother Ronald, and asked in a voice of affected contempt, ‘Who is this woman?’
‘This LADY’S name is Miss Briggs,’ Ronald answered, pointedly, but, of course, quite innocently.
‘I needn’t ask you who this man is,’ Selah said, with bitter emphasis. ‘It’s Herbert Walters.’
A horrible light burst in upon Ronald instantaneously as she uttered the name; but he could not believe it; he would not believe it: it was too terrible, too incredible. ‘No, no,’ he said falteringly, turning to Selah; ‘you must be mistaken. This is not Mr. Walters. This is my brother, Herbert Le Breton.’
Selah gazed into Herbert’s slinking eyes with a concentrated expression of scorn and disgust. ‘Then he gave me a false name,’ she said, slowly, fronting him like a tigress. ‘He gave me a false name, it seems, from the very beginning. All through, the false wretch, all through, he actually meant to deceive me. He laid his vile scheme for it beforehand. I never wish to see you again, you miserable cur, Herbert Le Breton, if that’s your real name at last. I never wish to see you again: but I’m glad I’ve done it now by accident, if it were only to inflict upon you the humiliation of knowing that I have measured the utmost depth of your infamy! You mean, common, false scoundrel, I have measured to the bottom the depth of your infamy!’
‘Oh, don’t,’ Ronald said imploringly, laying his hand upon her arm. ‘He deserves it, no doubt; but don’t glory over his humiliation.’ He had no need to ask whether she spoke the truth; his brother’s livid and scarlet face was evidence enough against him.
Herbert, however, answered nothing. He merely turned angrily to Ronald. ‘I won’t bandy words,’ he said constrainedly in his coldest tone, ‘with this infamous woman whom you have brought here on purpose to insult me; but I must request you to ask her to leave the house immediately. Your mother’s home is no place to which to bring people of such a character.’
As he spoke, the door opened again, and Lady Le Breton, attracted by the sound of angry voices, entered unexpectedly. ‘What does all this riot mean, Herbert?’ she asked, imperiously. ‘Who on earth is this young woman that Ronald has brought into my own house, actually without my permission?’