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"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.
She at one time mentioned the name of Miss Demolines; but Dalrymple altogether opposed the notion of sending for that lady, expressing his opinion that the amiable Madalina had done all in her power to create quarrels between Mrs Broughton and her husband and between Dobbs Broughton and Mrs Van Siever. And he spoke his opinion very fully about Miss Demolines.
It was better than to sit smoking with men at the club. But he could not sit up all night even with Madalina Demolines, and at eleven he got up to take his leave. "When shall you see Miss Dale?" she asked him suddenly. "I do not know," he answered, frowning at her. He always frowned at her when she spoke to him of Miss Dale.
If his stories, as stories, are not of enthralling interest or of very artfully constructed plots, their craftsmanship in this respect leaves very little to complain of. And he can sometimes, as in the Stanhope family of Barchester Towers, in Mrs. Proudie passim, in Madalina Demolines, and in others, draw characters very little removed from those who live with us for ever.
"You'll have a cup of tea?" she said. "Yes; if you do." Then the page brought the tea, and John Eames amused himself by swallowing three slices of very thin bread and butter. "Non for me, thanks," said Madalina. "I rarely eat after dinner, and not often much then. I fancy that I should best like a world in which there was no eating." "A good dinner is a very good thing," said John.
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."
John had now risen from his chair, and coming up to her took her by the arm and spoke a word. "Compose yourself," he said. He spoke in his most affectionate voice, and he stood very close to her. "How easy it is to bid me to do that," said Madalina. "Tell the sea to compose itself when it rages." "Madalina!" said he. "Well, what of Madalina? Madalina has lost her own respect, for ever."
However, I will never say a word against her, because she has been my friend. Nothing shall ever induce me." John Eames before he left Porchester Terrace, had at last succeeded in calling his fair friend Madalina, and had promised that he would endeavour to open the artist's eyes to the folly of painting his picture in Broughton's house without Broughton's knowledge.
"Yes, you did, I know. But, as I said before, there is some mistake. I know how proud I ought to be, and how happy, and all that kind of thing. But " Then there came a screech from Madalina, which would have awakened the dead, had there been any dead in that house. The page and cook, however, took no notice of it, whether they were awakened or not.
"Maria Clutterbuck, as I must always call her; for I cannot bring myself to pronounce the name of that poor wretch who was done to death." "He blew his brains out in delirium tremens," said Johnny. "And what made him drink?" said Madalina with emphasis. "Never mind. I decline altogether to speak of it. Such a scene as I have had! I was driven at last to tell her what I thought of her.
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