Amelia stood still for a moment on the landing, calculating whether it would be well for her to have the interview, or well to decline it.  Her objects were two,—­or, rather, her object was in its nature twofold.  She was, naturally, anxious to drive John Eames to desperation; and anxious also, by some slight added artifice, to make sure of Cradell if Eames’s desperation did not have a very speedy effect.  She agreed with Jemima’s criticism in the main, but she did not go quite so far as to think that Cradell was no good at all.  Let it be Eames, if Eames were possible; but let the other string be kept for use if Eames were not possible.  Poor girl! in coming to this resolve she had not done so without agony.  She had a heart, and with such power as it gave her, she loved John Eames.  But the world had been hard to her; knocking her about hither and thither unmercifully; threatening, as it now threatened, to take from her what few good things she enjoyed.  When a girl is so circumstanced she cannot afford to attend to her heart.  She almost resolved not to see Eames on the present occasion, thinking that he might be made the more desperate by such refusal, and remembering also that Cradell was in the house and would know of it.

“He’s there a-waiting, Miss Mealyer.  Why don’t yer come down?” and Jemima plucked her young mistress by the arm.

“I am coming,” said Amelia.  And with dignified steps she descended to the interview.

“Here she is, Mr Heames,” said the girl.  And then Johnny found himself alone with his lady-love.

“You have sent for me, Mr Eames,” she said, giving her head a little toss, and turning her face away from him.  “I was engaged upstairs, but I thought it uncivil not to come down to you as you sent for me so special.”

“Yes, Miss Roper, I did want to see you very particularly.”

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, and he understood fully that the exclamation referred to his having omitted the customary use of her Christian name.

“I saw your mother before dinner, and I told her that I am going away the day after to-morrow.”

“We all know about that;—­to the earl’s, of course!” And then there was another chuck of her head.

“And I told her also that I had made up my mind not to come back to Burton Crescent.”

“What! leave the house altogether!”

“Well; yes.  A fellow must make a change sometimes, you know.”

“And where are you going, John?”

“That I don’t know as yet.”

“Tell me the truth, John; are you going to be married?  Are you—­going—­to marry—­that young woman—­Mr Crosbie’s leavings?  I demand to have an answer at once.  Are you going to marry her?”

He had determined very resolutely that nothing she might say should make him angry, but when she thus questioned him about “Crosbie’s leavings” he found it very difficult to keep his temper.

“I have not come,” said he, “to speak to you about any one but ourselves.”