“Had we never loved so kindly,
Hail we never loved so blindly,
Never met, or never parted.
We had ne’er been broken-hearted."
As Cecilia listened, she cast her eyes upon a card which lay on the table—“Lord Beltravers,” and a new light flashed upon her, a light favourable to her present purpose; for since the object was altered with Lady Castlefort, since it was not Beauclerc any longer, there would be no further ill-will towards Helen. Lady Castlefort was not of the violent vindictive sort, with her there was no long-lasting dépit amoureux. She was not that fury, a woman scorned, but that blessed spirit, a woman believing herself always admired. “Soft, silly, sooth—not one of the hard, wicked, is Louisa,” thought Cecilia. And as Lady Castlefort, slowly opening the door, entered, timid, as if she knew some particular person was in the room, Cecilia could not help suspecting that Louisa had intended her song for other ears than those of her dear cousin, and that the superb negligence of her dress was not unstudied; but that well-prepared, well-according sentimental air, changed instantly on seeing—not the person expected, and with a start, she exclaimed, “Cecilia Clarendon!”
“Louisa Castlefort!” cried Lady Cecilia, answering that involuntary start of confusion with a well-acted start of admiration. “Louisa Castlefort, si belle, si belle, so beautifully dressed!”
“Beautifully dressed—nothing extraordinary!” said Lady Castlefort, advancing with a half embarrassed, half nonchalant air,—“One must make something of a toilette de matin, you know, when one has people to breakfast.”
“So elegant, so negligent!” continued Lady Cecilia.
“There is the point,” said Lady Castlefort. “I cannot bear any thing that is studied in costume, for dress is really a matter of so little consequence! I never bestow a thought upon it. Angelique rules my toilette as she pleases.”
“Angelique has the taste of an angel fresh from Paris,” cried Lady Cecilia.
“And now tell me, Cecilia,” pursued Lady Castlefort, quite in good humour, “tell me, my dear, to what do I owe this pleasure? what makes you so matinale? It must be something very extraordinary.”
“Not at all, only a little matter of curiosity.”
Then, from Lady Castlefort, who had hitherto, as if in absence of mind, stood, there was a slight “Won’t you sit?” motion.