They rose, and going on down the path to the river’s side, they reached a little cove where he had moored his boat, and they returned home by water—the moon just visible, the air so still; all so placid, so delightful, and Beauclerc so happy, that she could not but be happy; yes—quite happy too. They reached the shore just as the lamps were lighting in the house. As they went in, they met the general, who said, “In good time;” and he smiled on Helen as she passed.
“It is all settled,” whispered Beauclerc to him; “and you are to give her away.”
“With pleasure,” said the general.
As Helen went up-stairs, she said to herself, “I understand the general’s smile; he thinks I have followed his advice; he thinks I have told all—and I—I can only be silent.”
There was a great dinner party, but the general, not thinking Cecilia quite equal to it, had engaged Mrs. Holdernesse, a relation of his own, to do the honours of the day.
Lady Cecilia came into the drawing-room in the evening; but, after paying her compliments to the company, she gladly followed the general’s advice, and retired to the music-room: Helen went with her, and Beauclerc followed. Lady Cecilia sat down to play at ecarté with him, and Helen tuned her harp. The general came in for a few minutes, he said, to escape from two young ladies, who had talked him half dead about craniology. He stood leaning on the mantelpiece, and looking over the game. Lady Cecilia wanted counters, and she begged Beauclerc to look for some which she believed he would find in the drawer of a table that was behind him. Beauclerc opened the drawer, but no sooner had he done so, than, in admiration of something he discovered there, he exclaimed, “Beautiful! beautiful! and how like!” It was the miniature of Helen, and besides the miniature, further back in the drawer, Lady Cecilia saw—how quick is the eye of guilty fear!—could it be?—yes—one of the fatal letters—the letter! Nothing but the picture had yet been seen by the general or by Beauclerc: Lady Cecilia stretched behind her husband, whose eyes were upon the miniature, and closed the drawer. It was all she could do, it was impossible for her to reach the letter.
Beauclerc, holding the picture to the light, repeated, “Beautiful! who did it? whom is it for? General, look! do you know it?”
“Yes, to be sure,” replied the general; “Miss Stanley.”
“You have seen it before?”
“Yes,” said the general, coldly. “It is very like. Who did it?”