“But Clarendon would never forgive me for having loved another—”
“You said you did not love him.”
“Nor did I ever really love that man; but still Clarendon, from even seeing those letters, might think I did. The very fact of having written such letters would be destruction to me with Clarendon. You do not know Clarendon. How can I convince you it is impossible for me to tell him? At the time he first proposed for me—oh! how I loved him, and feared to lose him. One day my mother, when I was not by, said something—I do not know what, about a first love, let fall something about that hateful D’Aubigny, and the general came to me in such a state! Oh, Helen, in such a state! I thought it was all at an end. He told me he never would marry any woman on earth who had ever loved another. I told him I never had, and that was true, you know; but then I went a little beyond perhaps. I said I had never THOUGHT of anybody else, for he made such a point of that. In short, I was a coward—a fool; I little foresaw—I laughed it off, and told him that what mamma had said was all a mistake, all nonsense; that Colonel D’Aubigny was a sort of universal flirt—and that was very true, I am sure: that he had admired us both, both you and me, but you last, you most, Helen, I said.”
“Oh, Cecilia, how could you say so, when you knew he never cared for me in the least?”
“Forgive me, my dear, for there was no other way; and what harm did it do you, or what harm can it ever do you? It only makes it the easier for you to help me—to save me now. And Granville,” continued Lady Cecilia, thinking that was the obstacle in Helen’s mind, “and Granville need never know it.”
Helen’s countenance suddenly changed—“Granville! I never thought of that!” and now that she did think of it, she reproached herself with the selfishness of that fear. Till this moment, she knew her motives had been all singly for Cecilia’s happiness; now the fear she felt of this some way hurting her with Beauclerc made her less resolute. Lady Cecilia saw her giving way and hurried on——
“Oh, my dear Helen! I know I have been very wrong, but you would not quite give me up, would you?—Oh! for my mother’s sake! Consider how it would be with my mother, so ill as you saw her! I am sure if anything broke out now in my mother’s state of health it would be fatal.”
Helen became excessively agitated.
“Oh, Helen! would you make me the death of that mother?—Oh, Helen, save her! and do what you will with me afterwards. It will be only for a few hours—only a few hours!” repeated Lady Cecilia, seeing that these words made a great impression upon Helen,—“Save me, Helen! save my mother.”
She sank upon her knees, clasping her hands in an agony of supplication. Helen bent down her head and was silent—she could no longer refuse. “Then I must,” said she.