I hastily obeyed.  But it took me some time to find the paragraph I sought.  The certainty that others in the house had read these papers, if we had not, disturbed me.  I recalled certain glances which I had seen pass between the servants behind Mrs. Packard’s back,—­glances which I had barely noted at the time, but which returned to my mind now with forceful meaning; and if these busy girls had read, all the town had read—­what?  Suddenly I found it.  She saw my eyes stop in their hurried scanning and my fingers clutch the sheet more firmly, and, drawing up behind me, she attempted to follow with her eyes the words I reluctantly read out.  Here they are, just as they left my trembling lips that day—­words that only the most rabid of opponents could have instigated: 

Apropos of the late disgraceful discoveries, by which a woman of apparent means and unsullied honor has been precipitated from her proud preeminence as a leader of fashion, how many women, known and admired to-day, could stand the test of such an inquiry as she was subjected to?  We know one at least, high in position and aiming at a higher, who, if the merciful veil were withdrawn which protects the secrets of the heart, would show such a dark spot in her life, that even the aegis of the greatest power in the state would be powerless to shield her from the indignation of those who now speak loudest in her praise.

“A lie!” burst in vehement protest from Mrs. Packard, as I finished.  “A lie like the rest!  But oh, the shame of it! a shame that will kill me.”  Then suddenly and with a kind of cold horror:  “It is this which has destroyed my social prestige in town.  I understand those nine declinations now.  Henry! my poor Henry!”

There was little comfort to offer, but I tried to divert her mind to the practical aspect of the case by saying: 

“What can Mr. Steele be doing?  He does not seem to be very successful in his attempts to carry out the mayor’s orders.  See! your husband asks where he is.  He can mean no other by the words ’Where is S—?’ He knew that your mind would supply the name.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes had become fixed; her whole face betrayed a settled despair.  Quickly, violently, she rang the bell.

Nixon appeared.

She advanced hurriedly to meet him.

“Nixon, you have Mr. Steele’s address?”

“Yes, Mrs. Packard.”

“Then go to it at once.  Find Mr. Steele if you can, but if that is not possible, learn where he has gone and come right back and tell me.  Mr. Packard telegraphs to know where he is.  He has not joined the mayor in C—–.”

“Yes, Mrs. Packard; the house is not far.  I shall be back in fifteen minutes.”

The words were respectful, but the sly glint in his blinking eyes as he hastened out fixed my thoughts again on this man and the uncommon attitude he maintained toward the mistress whose behests he nevertheless flew to obey.