“Handsome is as handsome does,” said Miss Spruce; and there was that in her tone of voice which seemed to convey much hidden meaning.

“Exactly so, Miss Spruce,” said Mrs Lupex; “and that’s my only comfort at the present moment.  Mr Cradell is a gentleman who would scorn to take advantage;—­I’m quite sure of that.”  And then she did contrive to look at him over the edge of the hand which held the handkerchief.

“That I wouldn’t, I’m sure,” said Cradell.  “That is to say—­” And then he paused.  He did not wish to get into a scrape about Mrs Lupex.  He was by no means anxious to encounter her husband in one of his fits of jealousy.  But he did like the idea of being talked of as the admirer of a married woman, and he did like the brightness of the lady’s eyes.  When the unfortunate moth in his semi-blindness whisks himself and his wings within the flame of the candle, and finds himself mutilated and tortured, he even then will not take the lesson, but returns again and again till he is destroyed.  Such a moth was poor Cradell.  There was no warmth to be got by him from that flame.  There was no beauty in the light,—­not even the false brilliance of unhallowed love.  Injury might come to him,—­a pernicious clipping of the wings, which might destroy all power of future flight; injury, and not improbably destruction, if he should persevere.  But one may say that no single hour of happiness could accrue to him from his intimacy with Mrs Lupex.  He felt for her no love.  He was afraid of her, and, in many respects, disliked her.  But to him, in his moth-like weakness, ignorance, and blindness, it seemed to be a great thing that he should be allowed to fly near the candle.  Oh! my friends, if you will but think of it, how many of you have been moths, and are now going about ungracefully with wings more or less burnt off, and with bodies sadly scorched!

But before Mr Cradell could make up his mind whether or no he would take advantage of the present opportunity for another dip into the flame of the candle,—­in regard to which proceeding, however, he could not but feel that the presence of Miss Spruce was objectionable,—­the door of the room was opened, and Amelia Roper joined the party.

“Oh, indeed; Mrs Lupex,” she said.  “And Mr Cradell!”

“And Miss Spruce, my dear,” said Mrs Lupex, pointing to the ancient lady.

“I’m only an old woman,” said Miss Spruce.

“Oh, yes; I see Miss Spruce,” said Amelia.  “I was not hinting anything, I can assure you.”

“I should think not, my dear,” said Mrs Lupex.

“Only I didn’t know that you two were quite—­ That is, when last I heard about it, I fancied—­ But if the quarrel’s made up, there’s nobody more rejoiced than I am.”

“The quarrel is made up,” said Cradell.

“If Mrs Lupex is satisfied, I’m sure I am,” said Amelia.

“Mr Lupex is satisfied,” said Mrs Lupex; “and let me tell you, my dear, seeing that you are expecting to get married yourself—­”