“Could you?” asked Jemima, for the conversation took place at Mr. Bradshaw’s dinner-table, where a few friends were gathered together to meet Mr. Hickson; and among them was Mr. Benson.

“We neither would nor could,” said the ardent barrister, disregarding in his vehemence the point of the question, and floating on over the bar of argument into the wide ocean of his own eloquence:  “As it is—­as the world stands, they who would succeed even in good deeds must come down to the level of expediency; and therefore, I say once more, if Mr. Donne is the man for your purpose, and your purpose is a good one, a lofty one, a holy one” (for Mr. Hickson remembered the Dissenting character of his little audience, and privately considered the introduction of the word “holy” a most happy hit), “then, I say, we must put all the squeamish scruples which might befit Utopia, or some such place, on one side and treat men as they are.  If they are avaricious, it is not we who have made them so; but as we have to do with them, we must consider their failings in dealing with them; if they have been careless or extravagant, or have had their little peccadilloes, we must administer the screw.  The glorious reform of the law will justify, in my idea, all means to obtain the end—­that law, from the profession of which I have withdrawn myself from perhaps a too scrupulous conscience!” he concluded softly to himself.

“We are not to do evil that good my come,” said Mr. Benson.  He was startled at the deep sound of his own voice as he uttered these words; but he had not been speaking for some time, and his voice came forth strong and unmodulated.

“True, sir; most true,” said Mr. Hickson, bowing.  “I honour you for the observation.”  And he profited by it, insomuch that he confined his further remarks on elections to the end of the table, where he sat near Mr. Bradshaw, and one or two equally eager, though not equally influential, partisans of Mr. Donne’s.  Meanwhile Mr. Farquhar took up Mr. Benson’s quotation, at the end where he and Jemima sat near to Mrs. Bradshaw and him.

“But in the present state of the world, as Mr. Hickson says, it is rather difficult to act upon that precept.”

“Oh, Mr. Farquhar!” said Jemima indignantly, the tears springing to her eyes with a feeling of disappointment.  For she had been chafing under all that Mr. Hickson had been saying, perhaps the more for one or two attempts on his part at flirtation with the daughter of his wealthy host, which she resented with all the loathing of a preoccupied heart; and she had longed to be a man, to speak out her wrath at this paltering with right and wrong.  She had felt grateful to Mr. Benson for his one clear, short precept, coming down with a divine’ force against which there was no appeal; and now to have Mr. Farquhar taking the side of expediency!  It was too bad.