"You must return to dance with Monsieur de Morangy, I suppose?" said Lionel, dashing his picture angrily on the floor, and grinding it under his heel.
"Listen," said Lavinia, slightly pale, but calm; "the Comte de Morangy offers me high rank and complete rehabilitation in society. My marriage to an elderly nobleman never cleansed me completely from the cruel stain that disfigures an abandoned woman. Every one knows that an old man always receives more than he gives. But a wealthy, noble young man, envied by all, loved by the women,—that is a very different matter! That deserves consideration, Lionel; and I am very glad that I have handled the count carefully thus far. I divined long ago the honesty of his intentions."
"O woman! vanity never dies in you!" exclaimed Lionel angrily, when she had gone.
He joined Henry at the inn. His friend was awaiting him impatiently.
"The devil take you, Lionel!" he cried. "Here have I been waiting in my stirrups a good hour for you! Think of it! two hours for an interview of this sort! Come, off we go! you can tell me about it on the road."
"Good-night, Henry. Go, tell Miss Margaret that the bolster lying in my bed is at death's door. I remain here."
"Heavens and earth! what do you say?" cried Henry; "you don't mean to go to Luchon?"
"I will go some other time; I shall remain here now."
"Why, you are dreaming, man! It isn't possible! You can't have made it up with Lady Blake?"
"No, not so far as I know; far from it! But I am tired and out of sorts, lame all over; I am going to remain here."