But Miss Clarendon could bear it no longer; starting from under his hand, she exclaimed, "No more, thank you--no more at present, sir: we can call another day--no more:" and added as she hastily left the room, "Better bear the toothache," and ran down stairs. Mrs. Pennant slipped into the dentist's hand, as he pulled the bell, a double fee; for though she did not quite think he deserved it much, yet she felt it necessary to make amends for her niece's way of running off, which might not be thought quite civil.

"Thank you, ma'am--thank ye, ma'am--not the least occasion--don't say a word about it--Young lady's nervous, said so from the first. Nerves!

nerves! all--open the door there--Nerves all," were the last words, at the top of the stairs, St. Leger Swift was heard to say.

And the first words of kind Mrs. Pennant, as soon as she was in the carriage and had drawn up the gla.s.s, were, "Do you know, Esther, my dear, I am quite sorry for this poor Miss Stanley. Though I don't know her, yet, as you described her to me, she was such a pretty, young, interesting creature! I am quite sorry."

"I don't believe a word of it," said Miss Clarendon.

"But even to have such things said must be so distressing to her and to her lover, your friend Mr. Beauclerc--so very distressing!"

"I hope they are not such fools as to be distressed about such stuff.

All this insufferable talking man's invention, I dare say."

"Why do people tell such things?" said Mrs. Pennant. "But, my dear Esther, even supposing it to be all false, it is shocking to have such things spoken of. I pity the poor young lady and her lover. Do you not think, my dear, we shall be able to inquire into the truth of the matter from your brother this evening? He must know, he ought to know about it: whether the report be true or false, he should hear of it. He can best judge what should be done, if any thing should be done, my dear."

Miss Clarendon quite agreed with all this; indeed she almost always agreed with this aunt of hers, who, perhaps from the peculiar gentleness of her manner, joined to a simplicity and sincerity of character she could never doubt, had an ascendency over her, which no one, at first view, could have imagined. They had many country commissions to execute this morning, which naturally took up a good deal of aunt Pennant's attention. But between each return from shop to carriage, in the intervals between one commission off her hands and another on her mind, she returned regularly to "that poor Miss Stanley, and those love-letters!" and she sighed. Dear kind-hearted old lady! she had always a heart, as well as a hand, open as day to melting charity--charity in the most enlarged sense of the word: charity in judging as well as charity in giving. She was all indulgence for human nature, for youth and love especially.

"We must take care, my dear Esther," said she, "to be at General Clarendon's early, as you will like to have some little time with him to yourself before any one else arrives--shall you not, my dear?"

"Certainly," replied Miss Clarendon; "I shall learn the truth from my brother in five minutes, if Lady Cecilia does not come between us."

"Nay, my dear Esther, I cannot think so ill of Lady Cecilia; I cannot believe--"

"No, my dear aunt, I know you cannot think ill of any body. Stay till you know Lady Cecilia Clarendon as I do. If there is any thing wrong in this business, you will find that some falsehood of hers is at the bottom of it."

"Oh, my dear, do not say so before you know; perhaps, as you thought at first, we shall find that it is all only a mistake of that giddy dentist's; for your brother's sake try to think as well as you can of his wife; she is a charming agreeable creature, I am sure."

"You've only seen her once, my dear aunt," said Miss Clarendon. "For my brother's sake I would give up half her agreeableness for one ounce--for one scruple--of truth."

"Well, well, take it with some grains of allowance, my dear niece; and, at any rate, do not suffer yourself to be so prejudiced as to conceive she can be in fault in this business."

"We shall see to-day," said Miss Clarendon; "I will not be prejudiced; but I remember hearing at Florence that this Colonel D'Aubigny had been an admirer of Lady Cecilia's. I will get at the truth."

With this determination, and in pursuance of the resolve to be early, they were at General Clarendon's full a quarter of an hour before the arrival of any other company; but Lady Cecilia entered so immediately after the general, that Miss Clarendon had no time to speak with her brother alone. Determined, however, as she was, to get at the truth, without preface, or even smoothing her way to her object, she rushed into the middle of things at once. "Have you heard any reports about Miss Stanley, brother?"

"Yes."

"And you, Lady Cecilia?"

"Yes."

"What have you heard?"

Lady Cecilia was silent, looked at the general, and left it to him to speak as much or as little as he pleased. She trusted to his laconic mode of answering, which, without departing from truth, defied curiosity. Her trust in him upon the present occasion was, however, a little disturbed by her knowledge of his being at this moment particularly displeased with Helen. But, had she known the depths as well as she knew the surface of his character, her confidence in his caution would have been increased, instead of being diminished by this circ.u.mstance: Helen was lost in his esteem, but she was still under his protection; her secrets were not only sacred, but, as far as truth and honour could admit, he would still serve and save her. Impenetrable, therefore, was his look, and brief was his statement to his sister. A rascally bookseller had been about to publish a book, in which were some letters which paragraphs in certain papers had led the public to believe were Miss Stanley's; the publication had been stopped, the offensive chapter suppressed, and the whole impression destroyed.

"But, brother," pursued Miss Clarendon, "were the letters Miss Stanley's, or not? You know I do not ask from idle curiosity, but from regard for Miss Stanley;" and she turned her inquiring eyes full upon Lady Cecilia.

"I believe, my dear Esther," said Lady Cecilia, "I believe we had better say no more; you had better inquire no further."

"That must be a bad case which can bear no inquiry," said Miss Clarendon; "which cannot admit any further question, even from one most disposed to think well of the person concerned--a desperately bad case."

"Bad! no, Esther. It would be cruel of you so to conclude: and falsely it would be--might be; indeed, Esther! my dear Esther!----" Her husband's eyes were upon Lady Cecilia, and she did not dare to justify Helen decidedly; her imploring look and tone, and her confusion, touched the kind aunt, but did not stop the impenetrable niece.

"Falsely, do you say? Do you say, Lady Cecilia, that it would be to conclude falsely? Perhaps not falsely though, upon the data given to me.

The data may be false."

"Data! I do not know what you mean exactly, Esther," said Lady Cecilia, in utter confusion.

"I mean exactly what I say," pursued Miss Clarendon; "that if I reason wrong, and come to a false conclusion, or what you call a cruel conclusion, it is not my fault, but the fault of those who do not plainly tell me the facts."

She looked from Lady Cecilia to her brother, and from her brother to Lady Cecilia. On her brother no effect was produced: calm, unalterable, looked he; as though his face had been turned to stone. Lady Cecilia struggled in vain to be composed. "I wish I could tell you, Esther,"

said she; "but facts cannot always--all facts--even the most innocent--that is, even with the best intentions--cannot always be all told, even in the defence of one's best friend."

"If this be the best defence you can make for your best friend, I am glad you will never have to defend me, and I am sorry for Helen Stanley."

"Oh, my dear Esther!" said her aunt, with a remonstrating look; for, though she had not distinctly heard all that was said, she saw that things were going wrong, and that Esther was making them worse. "Indeed, Esther, my dear, we had better let this matter rest."

"Let this matter rest!" repeated Miss Clarendon; "that is not what you would say, my dear aunt, if you were to hear any evil report of me. If any suspicion fell like a blast on my character you would never say 'let it rest.'"

Fire lighted in her brother's eyes, and the stone face was all animated, and he looked sudden sympathy, and he cried, "You are right, sister, in principle, but wrong in--fact."

"Set me right where only I am wrong then," cried she.

He turned to stone again, and her aunt in a low voice, said, "Not now."

"Now or never," said the st.u.r.dy champion; "it is for Miss Stanley's character. You are interested for her, are not you, aunt?"

"Certainly, I am indeed; but we do not know all the circ.u.mstances--we cannot--"

"But we must. You do not know, brother, how public these reports are.

Mr. St. Leger Swift, the dentist, has been chattering to us all morning about them. So, to go to the bottom of the business at once, will you, Lady Cecilia, answer me one straight-forward question?"

Straight-forward question! what is coming? thought Lady Cecilia: her face flushed, and taking up a hand-screen, she turned away, as if from the scorching fire; but it was not a scorching fire, as everybody, or at least as Miss Clarendon, could see. The face turned away from Miss Clarendon was full in view of aunt Pennant, who was on her other side; and she, seeing the distressed state of the countenance, pitied, and gently laying her hand upon Lady Cecilia's arm, said, in her soft low voice, "This must be a very painful subject to you, Lady Cecilia. I am sorry for you."

"Thank you," said Lady Cecilia, pressing her hand with quick grat.i.tude for her sympathy. "It is indeed to me a painful subject, for Helen has been my friend from childhood, and I have so much reason for loving her!"

Many contending emotions struggled in Cecilia's countenance, and she could say no more: but what she had said, what she had looked, had been quite enough to interest tenderly in her favour that kind heart to which it was addressed; and Cecilia's feeling was true at the instant; she forgot all but Helen; the screen was laid down; tears stood in her eyes--those beautiful eyes! "If I could but tell you the whole--oh if I could! without destroying----"

Miss Clarendon at this moment placed herself close opposite to Cecilia, and, speaking so low that neither her brother nor her aunt could hear her, said, "Without destroying yourself, or your friend--which?"

Lady Cecilia could not speak.

"You need not--I am answered," said Miss Clarendon; and returning to her place, she remained silent for some minutes.

The general rang, and inquired if Mr. Beauclerc had come in.

"No."