The major’s face was close to that of his companion, who felt a wild sense of repugnance, so strong as to be almost suffocating.  The carriage bounded as the wheels struck an inequality in the street, throwing them together with a slight concussion.  The major laid his hand upon that of Mrs. Emerson, as if to support her.  But she instantly withdrew the hand he had presumed to touch.  He attempted the same familiarity again, but she placed both hands beyond the possibility of accidental or designed contact with his, and shrank still closer into the corner of the carriage, while her heart fluttered and a tremor ran through her frame.

Major Willard spoke again of the actress, but Mrs. Emerson made no reply.

“Where are we going?” she asked, after the lapse of some ten minutes, glancing from the window and seeing, instead of the tall rows of stately houses which lined the streets along the whole distance between Mrs. Talbot’s residence and her own house, mean-looking tenements.

“The driver knows his route, I presume,” was answered.

“This is not the way, I am sure,” said Mrs. Emerson, a slight quiver of alarm in her voice.

“Our drivers know the shortest cuts,” replied the major, “and these do not always lead through the most attractive quarters of the town.”

Mrs. Emerson shrunk back again in her seat and was silent.  Her heart was throbbing with a vague fear.  Suddenly the carriage stopped and the driver alighted.

“This is not my home,” said Mrs. Emerson, as the driver opened the door, and the major stepped out upon the pavement.

“Oh, yes.  This is No. 240 L——­street.  Yes, ma’am,” added the driver, “this is the number that the gentleman told me.”

“What gentleman?” asked Mrs. Emerson.

“This gentleman, if you please, ma’am.”

“Drive me home instantly, or this may cost you dear!” said Mrs. Emerson, in as stern a voice as surprise and fear would permit her to assume.

“Madam—­” Major Willard commenced speaking.

“Silence, sir!  Shut the door, driver, and take me home instantly!”

The major made a movement as if he were about to enter the carriage, when Mrs. Emerson said, in a low, steady, threatening voice—­

“At your peril, remain outside!  Driver, shut the door.  If you permit that man to enter, my husband will hold you to a strict account.”

“Stand back!” exclaimed the driver, in a resolute voice.

But the major was not to be put off in this way.  He did not move from the open door of the carriage.  In the next moment the driver’s vigorous arm had hurled him across the pavement.  The door was shut, the box mounted and the carriage whirled away, before the astonished man could rise, half stunned, from the place where he fell.  A few low, bitter, impotent curses fell from his lips, and then he walked slowly away, muttering threats of vengeance.

It was nearly twelve o’clock when Irene reached home.