"Come with me," said her brother, leading her into the parlor, when he shut the door.
"I have seen a gentleman to-day," he began, leading her to a seat, "who is acquainted with Paul. He parted from him the first of June. Your husband was aware he was coming direct to New York; and yet he sent no message."
He waited to see how she bore this; but as her countenance remained unchanged and she sat as erect as ever, he went on:
"Gertrude, darling sister, your affections were misplaced. Paul Dudley is unworthy of your love. You must forget him."
She found her voice now. Her eyes sparkled with indignation.
"Edward Wallingford," she began, "is it you who counsel me to break my vows; who tells a wife to forget the husband of her choice, the father of her babes? I cannot believe you are in earnest in what you say. I married too young, brother. I have always regretted that I did not listen to your advice, and wait till I had completed my education; but I never regretted that I chose Paul Dudley. I don't pretend that he has no faults. None of us are perfect; but whoever says I ought not to love and respect him, gives me wrong counsel and I reject it."
She drew up her form to its full height, her nostrils dilating; and her whole face expressing derision. The gazer thought he had never seen a finer, grander model of beauty.
"Gertrude," he urged tenderly, "do you think I would have taken up a mere rumor and brought it to you? The gentleman I saw was a stranger to me; and gave his evidence unbiased."
"What evidence?" She asked the question proudly.
"That Paul gained his case in March, and made a large sum of money by it. That Mr. Curtis was so much pleased he offered to make Dudley a sort of partner in the profits; that is he was to stay abroad and have a royalty on every article sold under their patent. It will be a year more, my informant tells me, before it is necessary for Paul to be there; but he is wasting his time while—"