“No! Harrow, you cannot mean that; I have not heard one word against her.”
“Of course not,” he said, smoking vigorously; “nobody speaks of it before you.”
“She’s as pure as an angel,” I said, indignantly.
“I believe she is,” he replied, lolling back on the pillow; “but if she allows Paning to carry her into the company he does, she will not be thought so by others. Last night I had no lady with me, and, getting tired of dancing, I went up into the library, which you know was lit up for promenading couples. When it was pretty late, and everybody had gone down, I took down a book, and, reclining on a sofa in one of the alcoves, began to read. I had not read far before Donnery and another low fellow came into the library, each with a lady, or I had better say woman on his arm. They made some show of looking at the books and paintings, and while thus engaged Paning and Miss Mayland came in. She was leaning on his arm with an air of devotion and confidence I have never seen equalled, and they were speaking in soft, loving tones. Donnery met them, and, in his coarse way, introduced his companions. After some noisy conversation, full of slang and rude jest, they agreed that the hop was a bore, and Donnery said he would go down to Muggs’ and get some wine if they would wait and drink it in the library. They all assented except Miss Mayland, and I distinctly heard her ask Paning to see her home; but he vowed she must not leave yet, and she remained, though I knew from her silence that she felt out of place and ill at ease. When Donnery returned they took the librarian’s table and made a gay party around it. Though I could not see them, I knew that Miss Mayland was blushing at the songs and toasts that passed around; and I inferred, by Paning’s calling out in a loud tone, ‘No, not yet, Lulie,’ that she was again begging him to leave.”
“Harrow, did all this really occur as you have described it?” I asked, in indignant astonishment.
“It did, upon my honor,” he replied. “Several ladies and gentlemen, on coming to the library door and seeing who were in there, turned back down stairs, and soon after I left myself.”
“I’ll tell her of it to-day,” I said, throwing off my slippers and drawing on my boots. “Paning must be the veriest villain alive to take the woman he loves, or pretends to love, into such company.”
“He certainly did so,” said Harrow; “and, as I said before, I heard much comment this morning from those who saw Miss Mayland with such a set.”
When he rose to go I thanked him for coming to me with the information, and begged that he would explain and apologize for her presence in the library with Donnery and company to those whose opinion I valued, and whom he might hear allude to it.
During the day I was engaged so that I could not procure an interview with Lulie, and, much to my regret and annoyance, I saw her walk in the Chapel in the afternoon on Donnery’s arm, while his coarse face was lit up with an expression of triumph as he took his seat “among the high up ones,” as he said in a loud whisper to one of his friends leaning in the window.