’Is the welfare of your friend nothing to you?  Would you like to see him become the victim of the artifice of such a girl as Clara Van Siever?’

‘Upon my word I think he is very well able to take care of himself.’

’And would you wish to see that poor creature’s domestic hearth ruined and broken up?’

‘Which poor creature?’

‘Dobbs Broughton, to be sure.’

‘I can’t pretend that I care very much for Dobbs Broughton,’ said John Eames; ‘and you see I know so little about his domestic hearth.’

‘Oh, Mr Eames!’

’Besides, her principles will pull her through.  You told me yourself that Mrs Dobbs Broughton had high principles.’

‘God forbid that I should say a word against Maria Clutterbuck,’ said Miss Demolines fervently.  ’Maria Clutterbuck was my early friend, and though words have been spoken which never should have been spoken, and though things have been done which never should have been dreamed of, still I will not desert Maria Clutterbuck in her hour of need.  No, never!’

’I’m sure you’re what one may call a trump to your friends, Miss Demolines.’

’I have endeavoured to be so, and always shall.  You will find me so;—­that is if you and I ever become intimate enough to feel that sort of friendship.’

‘There is nothing on earth I should like better,’ said Johnny.  As soon as these words were out of his mouth, he felt ashamed of himself.  He knew that he did not in truth desire the friendship of Miss Demolines, and that any friendship with such a one would mean something different from friendship—­something that would be an injury to Lily Dale.  A week had hardly passed since he had sworn a life’s constancy to Lily Dale—­had sworn it, not to her only, but to himself; and now he was giving way to a flirtation with this woman, not because he liked it himself, but because he was too weak to keep out of it.’

‘If that is true—­’ said Miss Demolines.

‘Oh, yes; it is quite true,’ said Johnny.

’Then you must earn my friendship by doing what I ask of you.  That picture must not be painted.  You must tell Conway Dalrymple as his friend that he must cease to carry on such an intrigue in another man’s house.’

‘You would hardly call painting a picture an intrigue; would you?’

’Certainly I would when it’s kept a secret from the husband by the wife—­and from the mother by the daughter.  If it cannot be stopped in any other way, I must tell Mrs Van Siever;—­I must, indeed.  I have such an abhorrence of the old woman, that I could not bring myself to speak to her—­but I should write to her.  That’s what I should do.’

‘But what’s the reason?  You might as tell me the real reason.’  Had Miss Demolines been christened Mary, or Fanny, or Jane, I think that John Eames would now have called her by either of those names; but Madalina was such a mouthful that he could not bring himself to use it at once.  He had heard that among her intimates she was called Maddy.  He had an idea that he had heard Dalrymple in old times talk of her as Maddy Mullins, and just at this moment the idea was not pleasant to him; at any rate he could not call her Maddy as yet.  ‘How am I to help you,’ he said, ‘unless I know all about it?’