“Conspiracy! Oh, Helen, do not use such a shocking word, when it is really nothing at all.”
“Then why not tell it?” urged Helen.
“Because, though it is nothing at all in reality, yet Clarendon would think it dreadful—though I have done nothing really wrong.”
“So I say—so I know,” cried Helen; “therefore——”
“Therefore let me take my own time,” said Cecilia. “How can you urge me so, hurrying me so terribly, and when I am but just recovered from one misery, and when you had made me so happy, and when I was thanking you with all my heart.”
Helen was much moved, but answered as steadily as she could. “It seems cruel, but indeed I am not cruel.”
“When you had raised me up,” continued Cecilia, “to dash me down again, and leave me worse than ever!”
“Not worse—no, surely not worse, when your mother is safe.”
“Yes, safe, thank you—but oh, Helen, have you no feeling for your own Cecilia?”
“The greatest,” answered Helen; and her tears said the rest.