“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 nobody 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 Sevigné. “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 off-handed and clean-hearted in the matter as I was, for between you and I his gratitude, 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 nobody could take hold of it against any of us—you understand; and after all, such a curiosity of a Sevigné 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.”