the scene that he dreaded
was upon him. The air was charged with it. In the strangest way
everything in the room seemed to be changed because of it. The
furniture, the dragons, the tables, the very trifles of gold and silver,
seemed to withdraw, leaving the air weighted with passion.

She was trembling from head to foot. Her voice was very low.

"You've gone too far. What business is this of yours? How dare you come
to me with these tales? How dare you? You've taken too much on your
shoulders. See to your own house, Doctor----"

He stepped back from the fireplace.

"Please--to-morrow----"

"No. Here and now." Her words flashed at him. "You've begun to think
yourself indispensable. Because I've shown you that I rely upon
you--Because, at times, I've seemed to need your aid--therefore you've
interfered in matters that are no concern of yours."

"They are concerns of mine," he answered firmly, "in so far as this
affair is connected with my friend."

"Your friend and my granddaughter," she retorted. "But it is not only
that. I will return you your own words. You say that your friend is in
danger--what of mine? You have dared to attack someone who is more to me
than you and all the rest of the world put together. Someone whom I care
for as I have never cared for my own sons. It was bold of you, Dr.
Christopher, and I shall not forget it."

He took it without flinching. "Very well," he said. "But my word to the
end is the same. If you marry Seddon to your granddaughter you do your
own sense of justice wrong."

At that the last vestige of restraint left her. Leaning forward in her
chair she poured her words upon him in a torrent of anger. Her voice was
not raised, but her words cut the air, and now and again she raised her
hands in a movement of furious protest.

She spared him nothing, dragged forward old incidents, old passages
between them that he had thought long ago forgotten, reminded him of
occasions when he had been mistaken or over-certain, accused him of
crimes that would have caused him to leave the country had there been a
vestige of truth in her words; at last, beaten for breath, gasped out:
"Sir Roderick Seddon shall know of what you accuse him. He shall deal
with you----"

"I have nothing," Christopher answered gravely, "against Seddon--nothing
except that he should not marry Rachel!"

"You have attacked him!" she gasped out. "He--shall--answer."

But her rage had exhausted her. She lay back agai