Tales and Novels Volume X Part 47

thought she, "why cannot I tell him every thing? I, who have no secrets of my own--why should I be forced to keep the secrets of another?" In confusion, scarcely finished, these ideas came across her mind, and she sighed deeply. Beauclerc asked why, and she could not tell him! She was silent; and he did not reiterate the indiscreet question. He was sure she thought of Lady Davenant; and he now spoke of the regret he felt that she could not be present at their marriage, and Lord Davenant too!

Beauclerc said he had hoped that Lord Davenant, who loved Helen as if she were his own daughter, would have been the person to act as her father at the ceremony. But the general, his friend and her's, would now, Beauclerc said, give her to him; and would, he was sure, take pleasure in thus publicly marking his approbation of his ward's choice.

They rose, and going on down the path to the river's side, they reached a little cove where he had moored his boat, and they returned home by water--the moon just visible, the air so still; all so placid, so delightful, and Beauclerc so happy, that she could not but be happy; yes--quite happy too. They reached the sh.o.r.e just as the lamps were lighting in the house. As they went in, they met the general, who said, "In good time;" and he smiled on Helen as she pa.s.sed.

"It is all settled," whispered Beauclerc to him; "and you are to give her away."

"With pleasure," said the general.

As Helen went up-stairs, she said to herself, "I understand the general's smile; he thinks I have followed his advice; he thinks I have told all--and I--I can only be silent."

There was a great dinner party, but the general, not thinking Cecilia quite equal to it, had engaged Mrs. Holdernesse, a relation of his own, to do the honours of the day.

Lady Cecilia came into the drawing-room in the evening; but, after paying her compliments to the company, she gladly followed the general's advice, and retired to the music-room: Helen went with her, and Beauclerc followed. Lady Cecilia sat down to play at ecarte with him, and Helen tuned her harp. The general came in for a few minutes, he said, to escape from two young ladies, who had talked him half dead about craniology. He stood leaning on the mantelpiece, and looking over the game. Lady Cecilia wanted counters, and she begged Beauclerc to look for some which she believed he would find in the drawer of a table that was behind him. Beauclerc opened the drawer, but no sooner had he done so, than, in admiration of something he discovered there, he exclaimed, "Beautiful! beautiful! and how like!" It was the miniature of Helen, and besides the miniature, further back in the drawer, Lady Cecilia saw--how quick is the eye of guilty fear!--could it be?--yes--one of the fatal letters--_the_ letter! Nothing but the picture had yet been seen by the general or by Beauclerc: Lady Cecilia stretched behind her husband, whose eyes were upon the miniature, and closed the drawer. It was all she could do, it was impossible for her to reach the letter.

Beauclerc, holding the picture to the light, repeated, "Beautiful! who did it? whom is it for? General, look! do you know it?"

"Yes, to be sure," replied the general; "Miss Stanley."

"You have seen it before?"

"Yes," said the general, coldly. "It is very like. Who did it?"

"I did it," cried Lady Cecilia, who now recovered her voice.

"You, my dear Lady Cecilia! Whom for? for me? is it for me?"

"For you? It may be, hereafter, perhaps."

"Oh thank you, my dear Lady Cecilia!" cried Beauclerc.

"If you behave well, perhaps," added she.

The general heard in his wife's tremulous tone, and saw in her half confusion, half attempt at playfulness, only an amiable anxiety to save her friend, and to give her time to recover from her dismay. He at once perceived that Helen had not followed the course he had suggested; that she had not told Beauclerc, and did not intend that he should be told the whole truth. The general looked extremely grave; Beauclerc gave a glance round the room. "Here is some mystery," said he, now first seeing Helen's disconcerted countenance. Then he turned on the general a look of eager inquiry. "Some mystery, certainly," said he, "with which I am not to be made acquainted?"

"If there be any mystery," said the general, "with which you are not to be made acquainted, I am neither the adviser nor abettor. Neither in jest nor earnest am I ever an adviser of mystery."

While her husband thus spoke, Lady Cecilia made another attempt to possess herself of the letter. This time she rose decidedly, and, putting aside the little ecarte table which was in her way, pressed forward to the drawer, saying something about "counters." Her Cachemere caught on Helen's harp, and, in her eager spring forward, it would have been overset, but that the general felt, turned, and caught it.

"What are you about, my dear Cecilia?--what do you want?"

"Nothing, nothing, thank you, my dear; nothing now."

Then she did not dare to open the drawer, or to let him open it, and anxiously drew away his attention by pointing to a footstool which she seemed to want.

"Could not you ask me for it, my dear, without disturbing yourself? What are men made for?"

Beauclerc, after a sort of absent effort to join in quest of the footstool, had returned eagerly to the picture, and looking at it more closely, he saw the letters C.D. written in small characters in one corner; and, just as his eye turned to the other corner, Lady Cecilia, recollecting what initials were there, started up and s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hand. "Oh, Granville!" cried she, "you must not look at this picture any more till I have done something to it." Beauclerc was trying to catch another look at it, when Cecilia cried out, "Take it, Helen! take it!" and she held it up on high, but as she held it, though she turned the face from him, she forgot, quite forgot that Colonel D'Aubigny had written his name on the back of the picture; and there it was in distinct characters such as could be plainly read at that height, "_For_ Henry D'Aubigny." Beauclerc saw, and gave one glance at Helen. He made no further attempt to reach the picture. Lady Cecilia, not aware of what he had seen, repeated, "Helen! Helen! why don't you take it?--now! now!"

Helen could not stir. The general took the picture from his wife's hand, gave it to Miss Stanley, without looking at her, and said to Lady Cecilia, "Pray keep yourself quiet, Cecilia. You have done enough, too much to-day; sit down," said he, rolling her arm-chair close, and seating her. "Keep yourself quiet, I beg."--"I beg," in the tone of "I insist."

She sat down, but catching a view of Beauclerc was alarmed by his aspect--and Helen! her head was bent down behind the harp. Lady Cecilia did not know yet distinctly what had happened. The general pressed her to lean back on the cushions which he was piling up behind her.

Beauclerc made a step towards Helen, but checking himself, he turned to the ecarte table. "Those counters, after all, that we were looking for--" As he spoke he pulled open the drawer. The general with his back to him was standing before Lady Cecilia, she could not see what Beauclerc was doing, but she heard the drawer open, and cried out.

"Not there, Beauclerc; no counters there--you need not look there."

But before she spoke, he had given a sudden pull to the drawer, which brought it quite out, and all the contents fell upon the floor, and there was the fatal letter, open, and the words "_My dear, too dear Henry_" instantly met his eyes; he looked no farther, but in that single glance the writing seemed to him to be Lady Cecilia's, and quick his eye turned upon her. She kept perfectly quiet, and appeared to him perfectly composed. His eye then darted in search of Helen; she had sunk upon a seat behind the harp. Through the harp-strings he caught a glimpse of her face, all pale--crimsoned it grew as he advanced: she rose instantly, took up the letter, and, without speaking or looking at any one, tore it to pieces. Beauclerc in motionless astonishment. Lady Cecilia breathed again. The general's countenance expressed "I interfere no farther." He left the room; and Beauclerc, without another look at Helen, followed him.

For some moments after Lady Cecilia and Helen were left alone, there was a dead silence. Lady Cecilia sat with her eyes fixed upon the door through which her husband and Beauclerc had pa.s.sed. She thought that Beauclerc might return; but when she found that he did not, she went to Helen, who had covered her face with her hands.

"My dearest friend," said Lady Cecilia, "thank you! thank you!--you did the best that was possible!"

"O Cecilia!" exclaimed Helen, "to what have you exposed me?"

"How did it all happen?" continued Cecilia. "Why was not that letter burnt with the rest? How came it there? Can you tell me?"

"I do not know," said Helen, "I cannot recollect." But after some effort, she remembered that in the morning, while the general had been talking to her, she had in her confusion, when she took the packet, laid the picture and that letter beside her on the arm of the chair. She had, in her hurry of putting the other letters into her bag, forgotten this and the picture, and she supposed that they had fallen between the chair and the wall, and that they had been found and put into the table-drawer by one of the servants.

Helen was hastening out of the room, Cecilia detained her. "Do not go, my dear, for that would look as if you were guilty, and you know you are innocent. At the first sound of your harp Beauclerc will return--only command yourself for one hour or two."

"Yes, it will only be for an hour or two," said Helen, brightening with hope. "You will tell the general to-night Do you think Granville will come back? Where is the harp key?--I dropped it--here it is." She began to tune the harp. Crack went one string--then another. "That is lucky,"

said Lady Cecilia, "it will give you something to do, my love, if the people come in."

The aide-de-camp entered. "I thought I heard harp-strings going," said he.

"Several!--yes," said Lady Cecilia, standing full in his way.

"Inauspicious sounds for us! had omens for my emba.s.sy.--Mrs. Holdernesse sent me."

"I know," said Lady Cecilia, "and you will have the goodness to tell her that Miss Stanley's harp is unstrung."

"Can I be of any use, Miss Stanley?" said he, moving towards the harp.

"No, no," cried Lady Cecilia, "you are in my service,--attend to me."

"Dear me, Lady Cecilia! I did not hear what you said."

"That is what I complain of--hear me now."

"I am all attention, I am sure. What are your commands?"

She gave him as many as his head could hold. A long message to Mrs. Holdernesse, and to Miss Holdernesse and Miss Anna about their music-books, which had been left in the carriage, and were to be sent for, and duets to be played, and glees, for the major and Lady Anne Ruthven.

"Good Heavens! I cannot remember any more," cried the aide-de-camp.

"Then go off, and say and do all that before you come back again," said Lady Cecilia.

"What amazing presence of mind you have!" said Helen. "How can you say so much, and think of every thing!"

The aide-de-camp performed all her behests to admiration, and was rewarded by promotion to the high office of turner-over general of the leaves of the music books, an office requiring, as her ladyship remarked to Miss Holdernesse, prompt eye and ear, and all his distinguished gallantry. By such compliments she fixed him to the piano-forte, while his curiosity and all his feelings, being subordinate to his vanity, were prevented from straying to Miss Stanley and her harp-stringing, a work still doing--still to do.

All the arrangement succeeded as Lady Cecilia's arrangements usually did. Helen heard the eternal buzz of conversation and the clang of instruments, and then the harmony of music, all as in a dream, or as at the theatre, when the thoughts are absent or the feelings preoccupied; and in this dreamy state she performed the operation of putting in the harp-strings quite well: and when she was at last called upon by Cecilia, who gave her due notice and time, she sat and played automatically, without soul or spirit--but so do so many others. It pa.s.sed "charmingly," till a door softly opened behind her, and she saw the shadow on the wall, and some one stood, and pa.s.sed from behind her.