“And what will you live upon in the mean time?”
“I should not have said my whole allowance, but I can do with very little, I will buy nothing new.”
“Buy nothing—live upon nothing!” repeated Lady Davenant; “how often have I heard these words said by the most improvident, in the moment of repentance, even then as blind and uncalculating as ever! And you, Helen, talk to me of your powers of forbearance,—you, who, with the strongest motive your heart could feel, have not been able for a few short months to resist the most foolish—the most useless fancies.”
Helen burst into tears. But Lady Davenant, unmoved, at least to all outward appearance, coldly said, “It is not feeling that you want, or that I require from you; I am not to be satisfied by words or tears.”
“I deserve it all,” said Helen; “and I know you are not cruel. In the midst of all this, I know you are my best friend.”
Lady Davenant was now obliged to be silent, lest her voice should betray more tenderness than her countenance chose to show.
“Only tell me what I can do now,” continued Helen; “what can I do?”
“What you CAN do, I will tell you, Helen. Who was the man you were dancing with last night?”
“I danced with several; which do you mean?”
“Your partner in the quadrille you were dancing when I came in.”