'Your meaning, dear madam?' asked Leander, with a look of bland
disdain.

'You have the face to ask it, deacon, after Petronilla's words this
morning?'

'I feared they might mislead you. The lady Petronilla knows nothing
of what has passed between us. She spoke in anger, and hazarded an
accusation--as angry ladies are wont.'

'Of course you say so,' returned Aurelia. 'I will believe you if you
give me back the paper I signed, and trust to my word for the
fulfilment of what I promised.'

Leander smiled, almost as if he had heard some happy intelligence.

'You ask,' he said, 'for a trust you yourself refuse.'

'Then go your way, perjurer!' exclaimed Aurelia, her cheeks aflame
with passion. 'I know henceforth on whom to rely.'

For a moment Leander stood as if reflecting on these last words;
then he bowed, and with placid dignity retired.

Meanwhile Basil and Decius were conversing with Petronilla. Neither
of them had ever stood on terms of more than courteous forbearance
with this authoritative lady; at present they maintained their usual
demeanour, and did not think it needful to apologise for friendly
relations with Aurelia. The only subject on which Petronilla deigned
to hold colloquy with them was that of her brother's burial at Rome.