'I'm afraid there is very little that's certain with Dobbs Broughton.
But about this picture, Mr Eames. I look to you to assist me there. It must be put a stop to. As to that I am determined. It must be--put a--stop to.' And as Miss Demolines repeated these last words with a tremendous emphasis she leant with both her elbows on a little table that stood between her and her visitor, and looked with all her eyes into his face. 'I do hope that you agree with me in that,' said she.
'Upon my word I do not see the harm of the picture,' said he.
'You do not?'
'Indeed no. Why should not Dalrymple paint Miss Van Siever as well as any other lady? It is his special business to paint ladies.'
'Look her, Mr Eames--' And now Miss Demolines, as she spoke drew her own seat closer to that of her companion and pushed away the little table.
'Do you suppose that Conway Dalrymple, in the usual way of his business, paints pictures of young ladies of which their mothers know nothing? Do you suppose that he paints them in ladies' rooms without their husbands' knowledge? And in the common way of his business does he not expect to be paid for his pictures?'
'But what is all that to you and me, Miss Demolines?'
'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?'
'I hate that girl like poison!' said Miss Demolines, confidentially, drawing herself very near to Johnny as she spoke.
'But what has she done?'
'What has she done? I can't tell you what she has done. I could not demean myself by repeating it. Of course we all know what she wants. She wants to catch Conway Dalrymple. That's as plain as anything can be. Not that I care about that.'
'Of course not,' said Johnny.
'Not in the least. It's nothing to me. I have known Conway Dalrymple, no doubt, for a year or two, and I should be sorry to see a young man who has his good points sacrificed in that sort of way. But it is mere acquaintance between Mr Dalrymple and me, and of course I cannot interfere.'
'She'll have a lot of money, you know.'
'He thinks so; does he? I suppose that is what Maria has told him. Oh, Mr Eames, you don't know the meanness of women; you don't indeed. Men are so much more noble.'
'Are they, do you think?'
'Than some women. I see women doing things that really disgust me; I do indeed;--things that I wouldn't do myself, were it ever so;--striving to catch men in every possible way, and for such purposes! I wouldn't have believed it of Maria Clutterbuck. I wouldn't indeed. 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.
