his mother must see him below.

On this he tied on his neckcloth again, and went downstairs to the
drawing-room. There sate not only his mother, but her friend, the
Reverend Doctor Portman. Helen's face looked very pale by the light of
the lamp--the Doctor's was flushed, on the contrary, and quivering with
anger and emotion.

Pen saw at once that there was a crisis, and that there had been a
discovery. "Now for it," he thought.

"Where have you been, Arthur?" Helen said in a trembling voice.

"How can you look that--that dear lady, and a Christian clergyman in the
face, sir?" bounced out the Doctor, in spite of Helen's pale, appealing
looks. "Where has he been? Where his mother's son should have been
ashamed to go. For your mother's an angel, sir, an angel. How dare you
bring pollution into her house, and make that spotless creature wretched
with the thoughts of your crime?"

"Sir!" said Pen.

"Don't deny it, sir," roared the Doctor. "Don't add lies, sir, to your
other infamy. I saw you myself, sir. I saw you from the Dean's garden. I
saw you kissing the hand of that infernal painted---"

"Stop," Pen said, clapping his fist on the table, till the lamp flickered
up and shook, "I am a very young man, but you will please to remember
that I am a gentleman--I will hear no abuse of that lady."