Of course he would.
"I hope it is so, my dear young lady.

But listen to me one moment.
I love you, my dear child, do you know, as if I were your own--grandfather." (There was moral heroism in that word.) "I love you as if you were of my own blood; and so long as you trust me, and suffer me, I mean to keep watch against all dangers that threaten you in mind, body, or estate.

You may wonder at me, you may sometimes doubt me; but until you say you distrust me, when any trouble comes near you, you will find me there.

Now, my dear child, you ought to know that the Rev.Joseph Bellamy Stoker has the reputation of being too fond of prosecuting religious inquiries with young and handsome women." Myrtle's eyes fell,--a new suspicion seemed to have suggested itself.
"He wanted to get up a spiritual intimacy with our Susan Posey,--a very pretty girl, as you know." Myrtle tossed her head almost imperceptibly, and bit her lip.
"I suppose there are a dozen young people that have been talked about with him.

He preaches cruel sermons in his pulpit, cruel as death, and cold-blooded enough to freeze any mother's blood if nature did not tell her he lied, and then smooths it all over with the first good-looking young woman he can get to listen to him." Myrtle had dropped the slipper she was working on.
"Tell me, my dear, would you be willing to give up meeting this man alone, and gratify my friend, and avoid all occasion of reproach ?" "Of course I would," said Myrtle, her eyes flashing, for her doubts, her shame, her pride, were all excited.