far the superior in wit, in manner, in acquirement, and in personal advantage.  There had been good-nature and true hearty love on the side of the other man; but circumstances had seemed to show that his good-nature was equal to all, and that he was able to share even his hearty love among two or three.  A man of such a character, known by a girl from his boyhood as John Eames had been known by Lily Dale, was likely to find more favour as a friend than as a lover.  So it had been between John Eames and Lily.  While the untrue memory of what Crosbie was, or ever had been, was present to her, she could hardly bring herself to accept in her mind the idea of a lover who was less noble in his manhood than the false picture which that untrue memory was ever painting for her.  Then had come before her eyes the actual man; and though he had been seen but for a moment, the false image had been broken into shivers.  Lily had discovered that she had been deceived, and that her forgiveness had been asked, not by a god, but by an ordinary human being.  As regarded the ungodlike man himself, this could make no difference.  Having thought upon the matter deeply, she had resolved that she would not marry Mr Crosbie, and had pledged herself to that effect to friends who never could have brought themselves to feel affection for him, even had she married him.  But the shattering of the false image might have done John Eames a good turn.  Lily knew that she had at any rate full permission from all her friends to throw in her lot with his—­if she could persuade herself to do so.  Mother, uncle, sister, brother-in-law, cousin—­and now this new cousin’s bride that was to be—­together with Lady Julia and a whole crowd of Allington and Guestwick friends, were in favour of such a marriage.  There had been nothing against it but the fact that the other man had been dearer to her; and that other fact that poor Johnny lacked something—­something of earnestness, something of manliness, something of that Phoebus divinity with which Crosbie had contrived to invest his own image.  But, as I have said above, John had gradually grown, if not into divinity, at least into manliness; and the shattering of the false image had done him yeoman’s service.  Now had come this accursed letter, and Lily, despite herself, despite her better judgment, could not sweep it away from her mind and make the letter as nothing to her.  M D had promised not to interfere with her!  There was no room for such interference, no possibility that such interference should take place.  She hoped earnestly—­so she told herself—­that her old friend John Eames might have nothing to do with a woman so impudent and vulgar as must be this M D; but except as regarded old friendship, M D and John Eames, apart or together, could be as nothing to her.  Therefore, I say that the letter had had the effect which the writer of it had desired.