There was a mystery about the Bayswater romance which was not without its allurement, and a portion of the mystery was connected with Madalina’s mother.  Lady Demolines was very rarely seen, and John Eames could not quite understand what was the manner of life of that unfortunate lady.  Her daughter usually spoke of her with affectionate regret as being unable to appear on that particular occasion on account of some passing malady.  She was suffering from a nervous headache, or was afflicted with bronchitis, or had been touched with rheumatism, so that she was seldom on the scene when Johnny was passing his time at Porchester Terrace.  And yet he heard of her dining out, and going to plays and operas; and when he did chance to see her, he found that she was a sprightly old woman enough.  I will not venture to say that he much regretted the absence of Lady Demolines, or that he was keenly alive to the impropriety of being left alone with the gentle Madalina; but the customary absence of the elder lady was an incident in the romance which did not fail to strike him.

Madalina was alone when he was shown upon into the drawing-room on the evening of which we are speaking.

‘Mr Eames,’ she said, ’will you kindly look at that watch which is lying on the table.’  She looked full at him with her great eyes wide open, and the tone of her voice was intended to show him that she was aggrieved.

‘Yes, I see it,’ said John, looking down on Miss Demolines’ little gold Geneva watch, with which he had already made sufficient acquaintance to know that it was worth nothing.  ‘Shall I give it you?’

’No, Mr Eames; let it remain there, that it may remind me, if it does not remind you, by how long a time you have broken your word.’

‘Upon my word I couldn’t help it;—­upon my honour I couldn’t.’

‘Upon your honour, Mr Eames?’

’I was obliged to go and see a friend who has just come to town from my part of the country.’

‘That is the friend, I suppose, of whom I have heard from Maria.’  It is to be feared that Conway Dalrymple had not been so guarded as he should have been in some of his conversations with Mrs Dobbs Broughton, and that a word or two had escaped from him as to the love of John Eames for Lily Dale.

‘I don’t know what you may have heard,’ said Johnny, ’but I was obliged to see these people before I left town.  There is going to be a marriage and all that sort of thing.’

‘Who is going to be married?’

‘One Captain Dale is going to be married to Miss Dunstable.’

‘Oh!  And as to one Miss Lily Dale—­is she to be married to anybody?’

‘Not that I have heard of,’ said Johnny.

‘She is not going to be the wife of one Mr John Eames?’

He did not wish to talk to Miss Demolines about Lily Dale.  He did not choose to disown the imputation, or to acknowledge its truth.

‘Silence gives consent,’ she said.  ’If it be so, I congratulate you.  I have no doubt she is the most charming young woman.  It is about seven years, I believe, since that little affair with Mr Crosbie, and therefore that, I suppose, may be considered as forgotten.’