"You need not be afraid to make a noise--you need not walk on tiptoe, nor shut the doors softly; for Lady Delacour seems to like all noises except the screaming of the macaw. This way, my dear."

"Oh, I forgot--it is so long since!--Is mamma up and dressed?"

"Yes. She has had concerts and b.a.l.l.s since her illness. You will hear a play read to-night," said Belinda, "by that French gentleman whom Lady Anne Percival mentioned to me yesterday."

"But there is a great deal of company, then, with mamma?"

"n.o.body is with her now: so come into the library with me," said Belinda. "Lady Delacour, here is the young lady who sent you the gold fishes."

"Helena!" cried Lady Delacour.

"You must, I am sure, acknowledge that Mr. Hervey was in the right, when he said that the lady was a striking resemblance of your ladyship."

"Mr. Hervey knows how to flatter. I never had that ingenuous countenance, even in my best days: but certainly the hair of her head is like mine--and her hands and arms. But why do you tremble, Helena? Is there any thing so very terrible in the looks of your mother?"

"No, only------"

"Only what, my dear?"

"Only--I was afraid--you might not like me."

"Who has filled your little foolish head with these vain fears? Come, simpleton, kiss me, and tell me how comes it that you are not at Oakly-hall, or--What's the name of the place?--Oakly-park?"

"Lady Anne Percival would not take me out of town, she said, whilst you were ill; because she thought that you might wish--I mean she thought that I should like to see you--if you pleased."

"Lady Anne is very good--very obliging--very considerate."

"She is _very_ good-natured," said Helena.

"You love this Lady Anne Percival, I perceive."

"Oh, yes, that I do. She has been so kind to me! I love her as if she were----"

"As if she _were_--What? finish your sentence."

"My mother," said Helena, in a low voice, and she blushed.

"You love her as well as if she were your mother," repeated Lady Delacour: "that is intelligible: speak intelligibly whatever you say, and never leave a sentence unfinished."

"No, ma'am."

"Nothing can be more ill-bred, nor more absurd; for it shows that you have the wish without the power to conceal your sentiments. Pray, my dear," continued Lady Delacour, "go to Oakly-park immediately--all farther ceremony towards me may be spared."

"Ceremony, mamma!" said the little girl, and the tears came into her eyes. Belinda sighed; and for some moments there was a dead silence.

"I mean only to say, Miss Portman," resumed Lady Delacour, "that I hate ceremony: but I know that there are people in the world who love it, who think all virtue, and all affection, depend on ceremony--who are

'Content to dwell in _decencies_ for ever.'

I shall not dispute their merits. Verily, they have their reward in the good opinion and good word of all little minds, that is to say, of above half the world. I envy them not their hard-earned fame. Let ceremony curtsy to ceremony with Chinese decorum; but, when ceremony expects to be paid with affection, I beg to be excused."

"Ceremony sets no value upon affection, and therefore would not desire to be paid with it," said Belinda.

"Never yet," continued lady Delacour, pursuing the train of her own thoughts without attending to Belinda, "never yet was any thing like real affection won by any of these ceremonious people."

"Never," said Miss Portman, looking at Helena; who, having quickness enough to perceive that her mother aimed this _tirade_ against ceremony at Lady Anne Percival, sat in the most painful embarra.s.sment, her eyes cast down, and her face and neck colouring all over. "Never yet," said Miss Portman, "did mere ceremonious person win any thing like real affection; especially from children, who are often excellent, because unprejudiced, judges of character."

"We are all apt to think, that an opinion that differs from our own is a prejudice," said Lady Delacour: "what is to decide?"

"Facts, I should think," said Belinda.

"But it is so difficult to get at facts, even about the merest trifles,"

said Lady Delacour. "Actions we see, but their causes we seldom see--an aphorism worthy of Confucius himself: now to apply. Pray, my dear Helena, how came you by the pretty gold fishes that you were so good as to send to me yesterday?"

"Lady Anne Percival gave them to me, ma'am."

"And how came her ladyship to give them to you, ma'am?"

"She gave them to me," said Helena, hesitating.

"You need not blush, nor repeat to me that she gave them to you; that I have heard already--that is the fact: now for the cause--unless it be a secret. If it be a secret which you have been desired to keep, you are quite right to keep it. I make no doubt of its being necessary, according to some systems of education, that children should be taught to keep secrets; and I am convinced (for Lady Anne Percival is, I have heard, a perfect judge of propriety) that it is peculiarly proper that a daughter should know how to keep secrets from her mother: therefore, my dear, you need not trouble yourself to blush or hesitate any more--I shall ask no farther questions: I was not aware that there was any secret in the case."

"There is no secret in the world in the case, mamma," said Helena; "I only hesitated because--"

"You hesitated _only_ because, I suppose you mean. I presume Lady Anne Percival will have no objection to your speaking good English?"

"I hesitated only because I was afraid it would not be right to praise myself. Lady Anne Percival one day asked us all--"

"Us all?"

"I mean Charles, and Edward, and me, to give her an account of some experiments, on the hearing of fishes, which Dr. X---- had told to us: she promised to give the gold fishes, of which we were all very fond, to whichever of us should give the best account of them--Lady Anne gave the fishes to me."

"And is this all the secret? So it was real modesty made her hesitate, Belinda? I beg your pardon, my dear, and Lady Anne's: you see how candid I am, Belinda. But one question more, Helena: Who put it into your head to send me your gold fishes?"

"n.o.body, mamma; no one put it into my head. But I was at the bird-fancier's yesterday, when Miss Portman was trying to get some bird for Mrs. Marriott, that could not make any noise to disturb you; so I thought my fishes would be the nicest things for you in the world; because they cannot make the least noise, and they are as pretty as any birds in the world--prettier, I think--and I hope Mrs. Marriott thinks so too."

"I don't know what Marriott thinks about the matter, but I can tell you what I think," said Lady Delacour, "that you are one of the sweetest little girls in the world, and that you would make me love you if I had a heart of stone, which I have not, whatever some people may think.--Kiss me, my child!"

The little girl sprang forwards, and threw her arms round her mother, exclaiming, "Oh, mamma, are you in earnest?" and she pressed close to her mother's bosom, clasping her with all her force.

Lady Delacour screamed, and pushed her daughter away.

"She is not angry with you, my love," said Belinda, "she is in sudden and violent pain--don't be alarmed--she will be better soon. No, don't ring the bell, but try whether you can open these window-shutters, and throw up the sash."

Whilst Belinda was supporting Lady Delacour, and whilst Helena was trying to open the window, a servant came into the room to announce the Count de N----.

"Show him into the drawing-room," said Belinda. Lady Delacour, though in great pain, rose and retired to her dressing-room. "I shall not be able to go down to these people yet," said she; "you must make my excuses to the count and to every body; and tell poor Helena I was not angry, though I pushed her away. Keep her below stairs: I will come as soon as I am able. Send Marriott. Do not forget, my dear, to tell Helena I was not angry."