denly come upon John, he knew not how, as he
scanned her anxious face, a conviction that the man was a scamp, from
whom at all hazards she should be free.

Said Elinor, unsuspecting, "That is just what he is, John! I knew you
would divine his character at once. You can't think how kind he is--kind
to everybody. He never judges anyone, or throws a stone, or makes an
insinuation." ("Probably because he knows he cannot bear investigation
himself," John said, in his heart.) "That was the thing that took my
heart first. Everybody is so censorious--always something to say against
their neighbours; he, never a word."

"That's a very good quality," said John, reluctantly, "if it doesn't
mean confounding good with bad, and thinking nothing matters."

Elinor gave him a grieved, reproachful look, and loosened the clasping
of her hands. "It is not like you to imagine that, John!"

"Well, what is a man to say? Don't you see, if you do nothing but blow
his trumpet, the only thing left for me to do is to insinuate something
against him? I don't know the man from Adam. He may be an angel, for
anything I can say."

"No; I do not pretend he is that," said Elinor, with impartiality. "He
has his faults, like others, but they are _nice_ faults. He doesn't know
how to take care of his money (but he hasn't got very much, which makes
it the less matter), and he is sometimes taken in about his friends.
Anybody almost that appeals to his kindness is treated like a friend,
which makes precise people think----but, of course, I don't share that
opinion in the very least."

("A very wasteful beggar, with a disreputable set," was John's practical
comment within himself upon this speech.)

"And he doesn't know how to curry favour with people who can help him
on; so that though he has been for years promised something, it never
turns up. Oh, I know his faults very well indeed," said Elinor; "but a
woman can do so much to make up for faults like that. We're naturally
saving, you know, and we always keep those unnecessary friends that were
made before our time at a distance; and it's part of our nature to coax
a patron--that is what Mariamne says."

"Mariamne?" said John.

"His sister, who first introduced him to me; and I am very fond of
her, so you need not say anything against her, John. I know she
is--fashionable, but that's no harm."

"Mariamne," he repeated; "it is a very uncommon name. You don't mean
Lady Mariamne Prestwich, do you? an