"Love him!" resumed the general; "with all his faults and follies, I love him as if he were my brother."

At which words Lady Cecilia, with a scarcely perceptible smile, cast a furtive glance at Helen.

The general called for his horses, and, followed by his aide-de-camp, departed, saying that he should be back at luncheon-time, when he hoped to find Beauclerc. In the same hope, Lady Davenant ordered her pony-phaeton earlier than usual; Lady Cecilia further hoped most earnestly that Beauclerc would come this day, for the next the house would be full of company, and she really wished to have him one day at least to themselves, and she gave a most significant glance at Helen.

"The first move often secures the game against the best players," said she.

Helen blushed, because she could not help understanding; she was ashamed, vexed with Cecilia, yet pleased by her kindness, and half amused by her arch look and tone.

They were neither of them aware that Lady Davenant had heard the words that pa.s.sed, or seen the looks; but immediately afterwards, when they were leaving the breakfast-room, Lady Davenant came between the two friends, laid her hand upon her daughter's arm, and said,

"Before you make any move in a dangerous game, listen to the voice of old experience."

Lady Cecilia startled, looked up, but as if she did not comprehend.

"Cupid's bow, my dear," continued her mother, "is, as the Asiatics tell us, strung with bees, which are apt to sting--sometimes fatally--those who meddle with it."

Lady Cecilia still looked with an innocent air, and still as if she could not comprehend.

"To speak more plainly, then, Cecilia," said her mother, "build no matrimonial castles in the air; standing or falling they do mischief--mischief either to the builder, or to those for whom they may be built."

"Certainly if they fall they disappoint one," said Lady Cecilia, "but if they stand?"

Seeing that she made no impression on her daughter, Lady Davenant turned to Helen, and gravely said,--

"My dear Helen, do not let my daughter inspire you with false, and perhaps vain imaginations, certainly premature, therefore unbecoming."

Helen shrunk back, yet instantly looked up, and her look was ingenuously grateful.

"But, mamma," said Lady Cecilia, "I declare I do not understand what all this is about."

"About Mr. Granville Beauclerc," said her mother.

"How can you, dear mamma, p.r.o.nounce his name so _tout an long?_"

"Pardon my indelicacy, my dear; delicacy is a good thing, but truth a better. I have seen the happiness of many young women sacrificed by such false delicacy, and by the fear of giving a moment's present pain, which it is sometimes the duty of a true friend to give."

"Certainly, certainly, mamma, only not necessary now; and I am so sorry you have said all this to poor dear Helen."

"If you have said nothing to her, Cecilia, I acknowledge I have said too much."

"I said--I did nothing," cried Lady Cecilia; "I built no castles--never built a regular castle in my life; never had a regular plan in my existence; never mentioned his name, except about another person--"

An appealing look to Helen was however _protested_.

"To the best of my recollection, at least," Lady Cecilia immediately added.

"Helen seems to be blushing for your want of recollection, Cecilia."

"I am sure I do not know why you blush, Helen. I am certain I never did say a word distinctly."

"Not _distinctly_ certainly," said Helen in a low voice. "It was my fault if I understood----"

"Always true, you are," said Lady Davenant.

"I protest I said nothing but the truth," cried Lady Cecilia hastily.

"But not the whole truth, Cecilia," said her mother.

"I did, upon my word, mamma," persisted Lady Cecilia, repeating "upon my word."

"Upon your word, Cecilia! that is either a vulgar expletive or a most serious a.s.severation."

She spoke with a grave tone, and with her severe look, and Helen dared not raise her eyes; Lady Cecilia now coloured deeply.

"Shame! Nature's hasty conscience," said Lady Davenant. "Heaven preserve it!"

"Oh, mother!" cried Lady Cecilia, laying her hand on her mother's, "surely you do not think seriously--surely you are not angry--I cannot bear to see you displeased," said she, looking up imploringly in her mother's face, and softly, urgently pressing her hand. No pressure was returned; that hand was slowly and with austere composure withdrawn, and her mother walked away down the corridor to her own room. Lady Cecilia stood still, and the tears came into her eyes.

"My dear friend, I am exceedingly sorry," said Helen. She could not believe that Cecilia meant to say what was not true, yet she felt that she had been to blame in not telling all, and her mother in saying too much.

Lady Cecilia, her tears dispersed, stood looking at the impression which her mother's signet-ring had left in the palm of her hand. It was at that moment a disagreeable recollection that the motto of that ring was "Truth." Rubbing the impress from her hand, she said, half speaking to herself, and half to Helen--"I am sure I did not mean anything wrong; and I am sure nothing can be more true than that I never formed a regular plan in my life. After all, I am sure that so much has been said about nothing, that I do not understand anything: I never do, when mamma goes on in that way, making mountains of molehills, which she always does with me, and did ever since I was a child; but she really forgets that I am not a child. Now, it is well the general was not by; he would never have borne to see his wife so treated. But I would not, for the world, be the cause of any disagreement. Oh! Helen, my mother does not know how I love her, let her be ever so severe to me! But she never loved me; she cannot help it. I believe she does her best to love me--my poor, dear mother!"

Helen seized this opportunity to repeat the warm expressions she had heard so lately from Lady Davenant, and melting they sunk into Cecilia's heart. She kissed Helen again and again, for a dear, good peacemaker, as she always was--and "I'm resolved"--but in the midst of her good resolves she caught a glimpse through the gla.s.s door opening on the park, of the general, and a fine horse they were ringing, and she hurried out: all light of heart she went, as though

"Or shake the downy _blowball_ from her stalk."

CHAPTER VII

Since Lord Davenant's arrival, Lady Davenant's time was so much taken up with him, that Helen could not have many opportunities of conversing with her, and she was the more anxious to seize every one that occurred.

She always watched for the time when Lady Davenant went out in her pony phaeton, for then she had her delightfully to herself, the carriage holding only two.

It was at the door, and Lady Davenant was crossing the hall followed by Helen, when Cecilia came in with a look, unusual in her, of being much discomfited.

"Another put off from Mr. Beauclerc! He will not be here to-day. I give him up."

Lady Davenant stopped short, and asked whether Cecilia had told him that probably she should soon be gone?

"To be sure I did, mamma."

"And what reason does he give for his delay?"

"None, mamma, none--not the least apology. He says, very cavalierly indeed, that he is the worst man in the world at making excuses--shall attempt none."

"There he is right" said Lady Davenant. "Those who are good at excuses, as Franklin justly observed, are apt to be good for nothing else."