Helen, who had by this time descended from the steps, stood and looked a little surprised, but said all that was properly civil, "gratified by Lady Bearcroft's good opinion-happy to be of any service,"--&c. &c.

"Well, then--sit ye down one instant, Miss Hanley."

Helen suggested that her name was Stanley.

"Stanley!--eh?--Yes, I remember. But I want to consult you, since you are so kind to allow me, on a little matter--but do sit down, I never can talk of business standing. Now I just want you, my dear Miss Hanley, to do a little job for me with Lady Davenant, who, with half an eye can see, is a great friend of yours.--Aren't I right?"

Helen said Lady Davenant was indeed a very kind friend of hers, but still what it could be in which Lady Bearcroft expected her a.s.sistance she could not imagine.

"You need not be frightened at the word job; if that is what alarms you," continued Lady Bearcroft, "put your heart at ease, there is nothing of that sort here. It is only a compliment that I want to make, and nothing in the world expected in return for it--as it is a return in itself. But in the first place look at this cover." She produced the envelope of a letter. "Is this Lady Davenant's handwriting, think you?"

She pointed to the word "_Mis-sent_," written on the corner of the cover. Helen said it was Lady Davenant's writing. "You are certain?--Well, that is odd!--Mis-sent! when it was directed to herself, and n.o.body else on earth, as you see as plain as possible--Countess Davenant, surely that is right enough?" Then opening a red morocco case she showed a magnificent diamond Sevigne. "Observe now," she continued, "these diamonds are so big, my dear Miss Hanley--Stanley, they would have been quite out of my reach, only for that late French invention, which maybe you may not have heard of, nor should I, but for the hint of a friend at Paris, who is in the jewellery line. The French, you must know, have got the art of sticking small diamonds together so as to make little worthless ones into large, so that, as you see, you would never tell the difference; and as it was a new discovery, and something ingenious and scientific, and Lady Davenant being reported to be a scientific lady, as well as political and influential, and all that, I thought it a good opportunity, and a fine excuse for paying her a compliment, which I had long wished to pay, for she was once on a time very kind to Sir Ben, and got him appointed to his present station; and though Lord Davenant was the ostensible person, I considered her as the prime mover behind the curtain. Accordingly, I sat me down, and wrote as pretty a note as I could pen, and Sir Ben approved of the whole thing; but I don't say that I'm positive he was as oft-handed and clean-hearted in the matter as I was, for between you and I his grat.i.tude, as they say of some people's, is apt to squint with one eye to the future as well as one to the past--you comprehend?"

Helen was not clear that she comprehended all that had been said; still less had she any idea what she could have to do in this matter; she waited for further explanation.

"Now all I want from you then, Miss Hanley--Stanley I would say, I beg pardon, I'm the worst at proper names that lives--but all I want of you, Miss Hanley, is--first, your opinion as to the validity of the handwriting,--well, you are positive, then, that this _mis-sent_ is her hand. Now then, I want to know, do you think Lady Davenant knew what she was about when she wrote it?"

Helen's eyes opened to their utmost power of distension, at the idea of anybody's questioning that Lady Davenant knew what she was about.

"La! my dear," said Lady Bearcroft; "spare the whites of your eyes, I didn't mean she didn't know what she was about in _that_ sense."

"What sense?" said Helen.

"Not in any particular sense," replied Lady Bearcroft. "But let me go on, or we shall never come to an understanding; I only meant that her ladyship might have just sat down to answer my note, as I often do myself, without having read the whole through, or before I have taken it in quite." Helen thought this very unlikely to have happened with Lady Davenant.

"But still it might have happened," continued Lady Bearcroft, "that her ladyship did not notice the delicacy of the way in which the thing was _put_--for it really was put so that n.o.body could take hold of it against any of us--you understand; and after all, such a curiosity of a Sevigne as this, and such fine 'di'monds,' was too pretty, and too good a thing to be refused hand-over-head, in that way. Besides, my note was so respectable, and respectful, it surely required and demanded something more of an answer, methinks, from a person of birth or education, than the single bald word 'mis-sent,' like the postman!

Surely, Miss Hanley, now, putting your friendship apart, candidly you must think as I do? And, whether or no, at least you will be so obliging to do me the favour to find out from Lady Davenant if she really made the reply with her eyes open or not, and really meant what she said."

Helen being quite clear that Lady Davenant always meant what she said, and had written with her eyes open, declined, as perfectly useless, making the proposed inquiry. It was plain that Lady Davenant had not thought proper to accept of this present, and to avoid any unpleasant explanations, had presumed it was not intended for her, but had been sent by mistake. Helen advised her to let the matter rest.

"Well, well!" said Lady Bearcroft, "thank you, Miss Hanley, at all events for your good advice. But, neck or nothing, I am apt to go through with whatever I once take into my head, and, since you cannot aid and abet, I will trouble you no further, only not to say a word of what I have mentioned. But all the time I thank you, my dear young lady, as much as if I took your dictum. So, my dear Miss Hanley--Stanley--do not let me interrupt you longer in your book-hunt. Take care of that step-ladder, though; it is _coggledy_, as I observed when you came down--Good night, good night."

CHAPTER X

"My dear Helen, there is an end of every thing!" cried Lady Cecilia, the next day, bursting into Helen's room, and standing before her with an air of consternation. "What has brought things to this sad pa.s.s, I know not," continued she, "for, but an hour before, I left every body in good-humour with themselves--all in good train. But now----"

"What?" said Helen, "for you have not given me the least idea of what has happened."

"Because I have not the least idea myself, my dear. All I know is, that something has gone wrong, dreadfully! between my mother and Lady Bearcroft. Mamma would not tell me what it is; but her indignation is at such a height she declares she will not see that _woman,_ again:--positively will not come forth from her chamber as long as Lady Bearcroft remains in the house. So there is a total break up--and I wish I had never meddled with any thing. O that I had never brought together these unsuitabilities, these incompatibilities! Oh, Helen! what shall I do?"

Quite pale, Lady Cecilia stood, really in despair; and Helen did not know what to advise.

"Do you know any thing about it, Helen, for you look as if you did?"

An abrupt knock at the door interrupted them, and, without waiting for permission, in came Lady Bearcroft, as if blown by a high wind, looking very red: half angry, half frightened, and then laughing, she exclaimed--"A fine _boggle-de-botch,_ I have made of it!" But seeing Lady Cecilia, she stopped short--"Beg pardon--thought you were by yourself, Miss Hanley."

Lady Cecilia instantly offered to retire, yet intimated, as she moved towards the door, a wish to stay, and, if it were not too much, to ask what was meant by----

"By _boggle-de-botch_, do you mean?" said Lady Bearcroft. "I am aware it is not a canonical word--cla.s.sical, I mean; nor in nor out of any dictionary, perhaps--but when people are warm, they cannot stand picking terms."

"Certainly not," said Lady Cecilia; "but what is the matter? I am sorry any thing unpleasant has occurred."

"Unpleasant indeed!" cried Lady Bearcroft; "I have been treated actually like a dog, while paying a compliment too, and a very handsome compliment, beyond contradiction. Judge for yourself, Lady Cecilia, if this Sevigne is to be _sneezed at_?"

She opened the case; Lady Cecilia said the diamonds were certainly very handsome, but----

"But!" repeated Lady Bearcroft, "I grant you there may be a but to everything in life; still it might be said civilly, as you say it, Lady Cecilia, or looked civilly, as you look it, Miss Hanley: and if that had been done, instead of being affronted, I might after all have been well enough pleased to pocket my diamonds; but n.o.body can without compunction pocket an affront."

Lady Cecilia was sure her mother could not mean any affront.

"Oh, I do not know what she could or could not mean; but I will tell you what she did--all but threw the diamonds in my face."

"Impossible!" cried Helen.

"Possible--and I will show you how, Miss Hanley. This way: just shut down the case--snap!--and across the table she threw it, just as you would deal a card in a pa.s.sion, only with a Mrs. Siddons' air to boot.

I beg your pardons, both ladies, for mimicking your friend and your parent, but flesh and blood could not stand that sort of style, you know, and a little wholesome mimicry breaks no bones, and is not very offensive, I hope?" The mimicry could not indeed be very offensive, for the imitation was so utterly unlike the reality, that Lady Cecilia and Helen with difficulty repressed their smiles. "Ladies may smile, but they would smile on the wrong sides of their pretty little mouths if they had been treated as I have been--so ignominiously. I am sure I wish I had taken your advice, Miss Hanley; but the fact was, last night I did not quite believe you: I thought you were only saying the best you could to set off a friend; for, since I have been among the great, and indeed even when I lived with the little, I have met with so many fair copies of false countenances, that I could not help suspecting there might be something of that sort with your Lady Davenant, but I am entirely convinced all you told me is true, for I peeped quite close at her, lifted up the hood, and found there were not two faces under it--only one very angry one for my pains. But I declare I would rather see that than a double one, like my Lady Masham's, with her spermaceti smile.

And after all, do you know," continued Lady Bearcroft in a right vulgarly-cordial tone--"Do you know now, really, the first anger over, I like Lady Davenant--I protest and vow, even her pride I like--it well became her--birth and all, for I hear she is straight from Charlemagne!

But I was going to mention, now my recollection is coming to me, that when I began talking to her ladyship of Sir Ben's grat.i.tude about that place she got for him, she cut me short with her queer look, and said she was sure that Lord Davenant (and if he had been the king himself, instead of only her husband, and your father, Lady Cecilia, she could not have p.r.o.nounced his name with more distinction)--she was sure, she said, that Lord Davenant would not have been instrumental in obtaining that place for Sir Benjamin Bearcroft if he had known any man more worthy of it, which indeed I did not think at the time over and above civil--for where, then, was the particular compliment to Sir Ben?"

But when Lady Bearcroft saw Lady Cecilia's anxiety and real distress at her mother's indignant resolution, she, with surprising good-humour said,--"I wish I could settle it for you, my dear. I cannot go away directly, which would be the best move, because Sir Benjamin has business here to-day with Lord Davenant--some job of his own, which must take place of any movements of mine, he being the more worthy gender..

But I will tell you what I can do, and will, and welcome. I will keep my room instead of your mother keeping hers; so you may run and tell Lady Davenant that she is a prisoner at large, with the range of the whole house, without any danger of meeting me, for I shall not stir till the carriage is at the door to-morrow morning, when she will not be up, for we will have it at six. I will tell Sir Benjamin, he is in a hurry back to town, and he always is. So all is right on my part. And go you to your mother, my dear Lady Cecilia, and settle her. I am glad to see you smile again; it is a pity you should ever do any thing else." It was not long before Cecilia returned, proclaiming, "Peace, peace!" She had made such an amusing report to her mother of all that Lady Bearcroft had said and done, and purposed to do, that Lady Davenant could not help seeing the whole in a ludicrous light, felt at once that it was beneath her serious notice, and that it would be unbecoming to waste indignation upon such a person. The result was, that she commissioned Helen to release Lady Bearcroft as soon as convenient, and to inform her that an act of oblivion was pa.s.sed over the whole transaction.

There had been a shower, and it had cleared up. Lady Cecilia thought the sky looked bluer, and birds sang sweeter, and the air felt pleasanter than before the storm. "Nothing like a storm," said she, "for clearing the air; nothing like a little honest hurricane. But with Lady Masham there never is anything like a little honest hurricane. It is all still and close with an indescribable volcano-like feeling; one is not sure of what one is standing upon. Do you know, Helen," continued she, "I am quite afraid of some explosion between mamma and Lady Masham. If we came to any difficulty with her, we could not get out of it quite so well as with Lady Bearcroft, for there is no resource of heart or frankness of feeling with her. Before we all meet at dinner, I must sound mamma, and see if all is tolerably safe." And when she went this day at dressing-time with a bouquet, as was her custom, for her mother, she took Helen with her.

At the first hint of Lady Cecilia's fears, that Lady Masham could do her any mischief, Lady Davenant smiled in scorn. "The will she may have, my dear, but she has not the power."

"She is very foolish, to be sure," said Lady Cecilia; "still she might do mischief, and there is something monstrously treacherous in that smile of hers."

"Monstrously!" repeated Lady Davenant. "No, no, my dear Cecilia; nothing monstrous. Leave to Lady Bearcroft the vulgar belief in court-bred monsters; we know there are no such things. Men and women there, as everywhere else, are what nature, education, and circ.u.mstances have made them. Once an age, once in half-a-dozen ages, nature may make a Brinvilliers, or art allow of a Zeluco; but, in general, monsters are mere fabulous creatures--mistakes often, from bad drawings, like the unicorn."

"Yes, mamma, yes; now I feel much more comfortable. The unicorn has convinced me," said Lady Cecilia, laughing and singing

''Tis all a mere fable; there's nothing to fear.'

"And I shall think of her henceforth as nothing but what she appears to be, a well-dressed, well-bred, fine lady. Ay--every inch a fine lady; every word, look, motion, thought, suited to that _metier_."

"That vocation," said Lady Davenant; "it is above a trade; with her it really is a sacred duty, not merely a pleasure, to be fine. She is a fine lady of the first order; nothing too professional in her manner--no obvious affectation, for affectation in her was so early wrought into habit as to have become second nature, scarcely distinguishable from real--all easy."

"Just so, mamma; one gets on so easy with her."

"A curious illusion," continued Lady Davenant, "occurs with every one making acquaintance with such persons as Lady Masham, I have observed; perhaps it is that some sensation of the tread-mill life she leads, communicates itself to those she is talking to; which makes you fancy you are always getting on, but you never do get beyond a certain point."

"That is exactly what I feel," said Helen, "while Lady Masham speaks, or while she listens, I almost wonder how she ever existed without me."

"Yes, and though one knows it is all an illusion," said Lady Cecilia, "still one is pleased, knowing all the time that she cannot possibly care for one in the least; but then one does not expect every body to care for one really; at least I know I cannot like all my acquaintance as much as my friends, much less can I love all my neighbours as myself--"