“Helen!” continued Miss Clarendon, “do you remember the time when I was at Clarendon Park and quitted it so abruptly? My reasons were good, whatever my manner was; the opinion of the world I am not apt to fear for myself, or even for my brother, but to the whispers of conscience I do listen. Helen! I was conscious that certain feelings in my mind were too strong,—in me, you would scarcely believe it—too tender. I had no reason to think that Granville Beauclerc liked me; it was therefore utterly unfit that I should think of him: I felt this, I left Clarendon Park, and from that moment I have refused myself the pleasure of his society, I have altogether ceased to think of him. This is the only way to conquer a hopeless attachment. But you, Helen, though you have commanded him never to attempt to see you again, have not been able to command your own mind. Since Mr. Churchill is so much better, you expect that he will soon be pronounced out of danger—you expect that Mr. Beauclerc will come over—come here, and be at your feet!”
“I expect nothing,” said Helen in a faltering voice, and then added resolutely, “I cannot foresee what Mr. Beauclerc may do, but of this be assured, Miss Clarendon, that until I stand as I once stood, and as I deserve to stand, in the opinion of your brother; unless, above all, I can bring proofs to Granville’s confiding heart, that I have ever been unimpeachable of conduct and of mind, and in all but one circumstance true—true as yourself, Esther—never, never, though your brother and all the world consented, never till I myself felt that I was proved to be as worthy to be his wife as I think I am, would I consent to marry him—no, not though my heart were to break.”
“I believe it,” said Mrs. Pennant; “and I wish—oh, how I wish—”
“That Lady Cecilia were hanged, as she deserves,” said Miss Clarendon: “so do I, I am sure; but that is nothing to the present purpose.”
“No, indeed,” said Helen.
“Helen!” continued Esther, “remember that Lady Blanche Forrester is at Paris.”
Helen shrank.
“Lady Cecilia tells you there is no danger; I say there is.”
“Why should you say so, my dear Esther?” said her aunt.
“Has not this friend of yours always deceived, misled you, Helen?”