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John Eames certainly liked these evenings with Miss Demolines. He sat at his ease in a comfortable chair, and amused himself by watching her different little plots. And then she had bright eyes, and she flattered him, and allowed him to scold her occasionally. And now and again there might be some more potent attraction, when she would admit him to take her hand, or the like.
Her respirations came very strong, but they came a good deal stronger when he mentioned the fact that she was not so well as she might be. "Unwell!" said Lady Demolines. And John was stricken at the moment with a conviction that her ladyship must have passed the early part of her life upon the stage. "You would trifle with me, sir. Beware that you do not trifle with her, with Madalina."
"Madalina, there is nothing to pardon." "And you will love me?" Then, without waiting for any more encouraging reply, unable, probably, to wait a moment longer, she sunk upon his bosom. He caught her, of course, and at that moment the drawing-room door was opened, and Lady Demolines entered the chamber.
Miss Demolines, Mr Eames." Mr Dobbs Broughton was somewhat sulky and had not welcomed our hero very cordially. He was beginning to think that Conway Dalrymple gave himself airs and did not sufficiently understand that a man who had horses at Market Harboro' and '41 Lafitte was at any rate as good as a painter who was pelted with gilt sugar-plums for painting countesses.
He had felt that it was coming for the last quarter of an hour, and he had felt, also, that he was quite unable to help himself. He did not believe that he should ever be reduced to marrying Miss Demolines, but he did see plainly enough that he was getting into trouble; and yet, for his life, he could not help himself.
There was something almost grandly tragic in Miss Demolines' voice as she thus spoke. "Yes, Mr Eames, I know them well. If that scheme be continued, it will work terrible mischief. You and I must prevent it." "But I don't see what harm it will do." "Think of Conway Dalrymple passing so many hours in Maria's sitting-room upstairs! The picture is to be painted there, you know."
"No doubt it does," said Miss Demolines, with a nod of her head, which was intended to show that she was willing to give her friend the full benefit of any excuse which could be offered for her. "But don't you think you could do something, Mr Eames?" "I do something?" "Yes, you. You and Mr Dalrymple are such friends! If you were just to point out to him you know " "Point out what?
"She is not going to become 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 a most charming young woman.
She died of it, with a broken heart; absolutely died; and there he is, indifferent as possible; and would treat me in the same way to-morrow if I would let him." Johnny Eames, finding it impossible to talk to Miss Demolines about Lily Dale, took up the card of the dinner and went to work in earnest, recommending his neighbour what to eat and what to pass by.
Lady Demolines' rank was not much certainly; but it served to mark her, and was beneficial. As he went downstairs Eames was still thinking of his meeting with Crosbie, and had as yet hardly said a word to his neighbour, and his neighbour had not said a word to him.
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