“That is exactly what I feel,” said Helen, “while Lady Masham speaks, or while she listens, I almost wonder how she ever existed without me.”
“Yes, and though one knows it is all an illusion,” said Lady Cecilia, “still one is pleased, knowing all the time that she cannot possibly care for one in the least; but then one does not expect every body to care for one really; at least I know I cannot like all my acquaintance as much as my friends, much less can I love all my neighbours as myself—”
“Come, come! Cecilia!” said her mother.
“By ‘come, come!’ mamma means, don’t go any further, Cecilia,” said she, turning to Helen. “But now, mamma, I am not clear whether you really think her your friend or your enemy, inclined to do you mischief or not. Just as it may be for her interest or not, I suppose.”
“And just as it may be the fashion or not,” said Lady Davenant. “I remember hearing old Lady—, one of the cleverest women of the last century, and one who had seen much of the world, say, ‘If it was the fashion to burn me, and I at the stake, I hardly know ten persons of my acquaintance who would refuse to throw on a faggot.’”
“Oh mamma!—Oh Lady Davenant!” exclaimed Helen and Cecilia.
“It was a strong way of putting the matter,” said Lady Davenant, laughing:—“but fashion has, I assure you, more influence over weak minds, such as Lady Masham’s, than either party or interest. And since you do not like my illustration by fire, take one by water—She is just a person to go out with, on a party of pleasure, on the smooth surface of a summer sea, and if a slight shower comes on would pity your bonnet sincerely, but if a serious squall arose and all should be in danger——”
“Then, of course, every body would take care of themselves,” interrupted Lady Cecilia, “excepting such a simpleton as Helen, who would take care of you first, mamma, of me next and of herself last.”
“I believe it—I do believe it,” cried Lady Davenant, and, her eyes and thoughts fixing upon Helen, she quite forgot what further she was going to say of Lady Masham.
The perfectly unimpassioned tone, in which her mother had discussed this lady’s character, even the candour, convinced Lady Cecilia as well as Helen, that nothing further could be done as to drawing them together. No condescension of manner, no conciliation, could be expected from Lady Davenant towards Lady Masham, but at the same time there was no fear of any rupture. And to this humble consolation was Lady Cecilia brought. She told Helen that she gave up all hope of doing any good, she would now be quite content if she avoided doing harm, and if this visit ended without coming to any further outrage on the part of Lady Bearcroft, and without her mother’s being guilty of contempt to Lady Masham. She had done some little service, however, with respect to the ambassadress, and her mother knew it. It was well known that the ambassadress governed the ambassador, and Lady Cecilia had quite won her heart, “so that he will be assuredly a friend to papa. Indeed, this has been almost promised. Madame l’Ambassadrice assured me that her husband looks upon Lord Davenant as one of the first sages of England, that is to say, of Europe; and she says he is well acquainted with all Lord Davenant’s works—and it is my belief,” concluded Lady Cecilia, “that all Sir William Davenant’s works go with her to papa’s credit, for as she spoke she gave a polite glance towards the bookcase where she saw their gilded backs, and I found the ambassador himself, afterwards, with ‘Davenant on Trade’ in his hand! Be it so: it is not, after all, you know, robbing the dead, only inheriting by mistake from a namesake, which with foreigners is allowable, because impossible to avoid, from the time of ‘Monsieur Robinson parent apparemment de Monsieur Crusoe?’’ to the present day.”