CHAPTER VIII
There is no better test of the strength of affection than the ready turning of the mind to the little concerns of a friend, when preoccupied with important interests of our own. This was a proof of friendship, which Lady Davenant had lately given to Helen, for, at the time when she had entered with so much readiness and zeal into Helen’s little difficulties and debts, great political affairs and important interests of Lord Davenant’s were in suspense, and pressed heavily upon her mind. What might be the nature of these political embarrassments had not been explained. Lady Davenant had only hinted at them. She said, “she knew from the terror exhibited by the inferior creatures in office that some change in administration was expected, as beasts are said to howl and tremble before storm, or earthquake, or any great convulsion of nature takes place.”
Since Lady Davenant’s return from town, where Lord Davenant still remained, nothing had been said of the embassy to Russia but that it was delayed. Lady Cecilia, who was quick, and, where she was not herself concerned, usually right, in interpreting the signs of her mother’s discomfiture, guessed that Lord Davenant had been circumvented by some diplomatist of inferior talents, and she said to Helen, “When an ass kicks you never tell it, is a maxim which mamma heard from some friend, and she always acts upon it; but a kick, whether given by ass or not, leaves a bruise, which sometimes tells in spite of ourselves, and my mother should remember another maxim of that friend’s, that the faults and follies of the great are the delight and comfort of the little. Now, my mother, though she is so well suited, from her superior abilities and strength of mind, and all that, to be the wife of a great political leader, yet in some respects she is the most unfit person upon earth for the situation; for, though she feels the necessity of conciliating, she cannot unbend with her inferiors, that is, with half the world. As Catalani said of singing, it is much more difficult to descend than to ascend well. Shockingly mamma shows in her manner sometimes how tired she is of the stupid, and how she despises the mean; and all the underlings think she can undo them with papa, for it has gone abroad that she governs, while in fact, though papa asks her advice, to be sure, because she is so wise, she never does interfere in the least; but, now it has once got into the world’s obstinate head that she does, it cannot be put out again, and mamma is the last person upon earth to take her own part, or condescend to explain and set things right. She is always thinking of papa’s glory and the good of the public, but the public will never thank him and much less her; so there she is a martyr, without her crown; now, if I were to make a martyr of myself, which, Heaven forbid! I would at least take right good care to secure my crown, and to have my full glory round my head, and set on becomingly. But seriously, my dear Helen,” continued Lady Cecilia, “I am unhappy about papa and mamma, I assure you. I have seen little clouds of discontent long gathering, lowering, and blackening, and I know they will burst over their heads in some tremendous storm at last.”
Helen hoped not, but looked frightened.
“Oh, you may hope not, my dear, but I know it will be—we may not hear the thunder, but we shall see the lightning all the more dangerous. We shall be struck down, unless—” she paused.
“Unless what?” said Helen.
“Unless the storm be dispersed in time.”
“And how?”
“The lightning drawn off by some good conductor—such as myself; I am quite serious, and though you were angry with me for laughing just now, as if I was not the best of daughters, even though I laugh, I can tell you I am meditating an act of self-devotion for my mother’s sake—a grand coup d’état.”
“Coup d’état? you, Cecilia! my dear—”