Eames was not inclined to discuss the matter any further, so he finished his toddy in silence.  Cradell, however, who felt that there was something in his affairs of which he had reason to be proud, soon returned to the story of his own very extraordinary position.  “By Jove, I don’t know that a man was ever so circumstanced,” he said.  “She looks to me to protect her, and yet what can I do?”

At last Cradell got up, and declared that he must go to the ladies.  “She’s so nervous, that unless she has some one to countenance her she becomes unwell.”

Eames declared his purpose of going to the divan, or to the theatre, or to take a walk in the streets.  The smiles of beauty had no longer charms for him in Burton Crescent.

“They’ll expect you to take a cup of tea the first night,” said Cradell; but Eames declared that they might expect it.

“I’m in no humour for it,” said he.  “I’ll tell you what, Cradell, I shall leave this place, and take rooms for myself somewhere.  I’ll never go into a lodging-house again.”

As he so spoke, he was standing at the dining-room door; but he was not allowed to escape in this easy way.  Jemima, as he went out into the passage, was there with a three-cornered note in her hand.  “From Miss Mealyer,” she said.  “Miss Mealyer is in the back parlour all by herself.”

Poor Johnny took the note, and read it by the lamp over the front door.

“Are you not going to speak to me on the day of your return?  It cannot be that you will leave the house without seeing me for a moment.  I am in the back parlour.”

When he had read these words, he paused in the passage, with his hat on.  Jemima, who could not understand why any young man should hesitate as to seeing his lady-love in the back parlour alone, whispered to him again, in her audible way, “Miss Mealyer is there, sir; and all the rest on ’em’s upstairs!” So compelled, Eames put down his hat, and walked with slow steps into the back parlour.

How was it to be with the enemy?  Was he to encounter Amelia in anger, or Amelia in love?  She had seemed to be stern and defiant when he had ventured to steal a look at her across the dining-table, and now he expected that she would turn upon him with loud threatenings and protestations as to her wrongs.  But it was not so.  When he entered the room she was standing with her back to him, leaning on the mantel-piece, and at the first moment she did not essay to peak.  He walked into the middle of the room and stood there, waiting for her to begin.

“Shut the door!” she said, looking over her shoulder.  “I suppose you don’t want the girl to hear all you’ve got to say to me!”

Then he shut the door; but still Amelia stood with her back to him, leaning upon the mantel-piece.

It did not seem that he had much to say, for he remained perfectly silent.

“Well!” said Amelia, after a long pause, and she then again looked over her shoulder.  “Well, Mr Eames!”