“Then pray ask my sister why I find her on that villain's arm.”
“I should not answer her,” said Zoe, haughtily. “But my brother I will. Harrington, all this vulgar abuse confirms me in my choice: I take his arm because I have accepted his hand. I am going into Bagley with him to become his wife.”
This announcement took away Vizard's breath for a moment, and Ina Klosking put in her word. “You cannot do that: pray he warned. He is leading you to infamy.”
“Infamy! What, because he cannot give me a suit of sables? Infamy! because we prefer virtuous poverty to vice and wealth?”
“No, young lady,” said Ina, coloring faintly at the taunt; “but because you could only be his paramour; not his wife. He is married already.”
At these words, spoken with that power Ina Klosking could always command, Zoe Vizard turned ashy pale. But she fought on bravely.
“Married? It is false! To whom?”
“To me.”
“I thought so. Now I know it is not true. He left you months before we ever knew him.”
“Look at him. He does not say it is false.”