“‘My dear Clarendon, I have not the least wish.’
“‘I do not ask what your wishes may be; I require only your obedience.’
“Never have I heard such austere words from him. I turned to the stage, and I was glad to seize the first minute I could to get away. But what was to be done? If I did not go to Kensington, there was this locket, and I knew not what, standing out against me. I knew that this wretched woman had had Colonel D’Aubigny in her train abroad, and supposed that he must—treacherous profligate as he was—have given the locket to her, and now I was so afraid of its coming to Clarendon’s eyes or ears!—and yet why should I have feared his knowing about it? Colonel D’Aubigny stole it, just as he stole the picture. I had got it for you, do you recollect?”
“Perfectly,” said Helen, “and your mother missed it.”
“Yes,” continued Lady Cecilia. “O that I had had the sense to do nothing about it! But I was so afraid of its somehow bringing everything to light: my cowardice—my conscience—my consciousness of that first fatal falsehood before my marriage, has haunted me at the most critical moments: it has risen against me, and stood like an evil spirit threatening me from the right path.
“I went to Kensington, trusting to my own good fortune, which had so often stood me in stead; but Madame de St. Cymon was too cunning for me, and so interested, so mean, she actually bargained for giving up the locket. She hinted that she knew Colonel D’Aubigny had never been your lover, and ended by saying she had not the locket with her; and though I made her understand that the general would never allow me to receive her at my own house, yet she ‘hoped I could manage an introduction for her to some of my friends, and that she would bring the locket on Monday, if I would in the mean time try, at least with Lady Emily Greville and Mrs. Holdernesse.’
“I felt her meanness, and yet I was almost as mean myself, for I agreed to do what I could. Monday came, Clarendon saw me as I was going out, and, as he handed me into the carriage, he asked me where I was going. To Kensington I said, and added—oh! Helen, I am ashamed to tell you, I added,—I am going to see my child. And there I found Madame de St. Cymon, and I had to tell her of my failure with Lady Emily and Mrs. Holdernesse. I softened their refusal as much as I could, but I might have spared myself the trouble, for she only retorted by something about English prudery. At this moment a shower of rain came on, and she insisted upon my taking her home; ‘Come in,’ said she, when the carriage stopped at her door: ‘if you will come in, I will give it to you now, and you need not have the trouble of calling again.’ I had the folly to yield, though I saw that it was a trick to decoy me into her house, and to make it pass for a visit. It all flashed upon me, and yet I could not resist, for I thought I must obtain the locket at all hazards. I resolved to get it from her before I left the house, and then I thought all would be finished.
“She looked triumphant as she followed me into her saloon, and gave a malicious smile, which seemed to say, ‘You see you are visiting me after all.’ After some nonsensical conversation, meant to detain me, I pressed for the locket, and she produced it: it was indeed the very one that had been made for you—But just at that instant, while she still held it in her band, the door suddenly opened, and Clarendon stood opposite to me!
“I heard Madame de St. Cymon’s voice, but of what she said, I have no idea. I heard nothing but the single word ‘rain’ and with scarcely strength to articulate, I attempted to follow up that excuse. Clarendon’s look of contempt!—But he commanded himself, advanced calmly to me, and said, ‘I came to Kensington with these letters; they have just arrived by express. Lady Davenant is in England—she is ill.’ He gave me the packet, and left the room, and I heard the sound of his horses’ feet the next instant as he rode off. I broke from Madame de St. Cymon, forgetting the locket and everything. I asked my servants which way the general had gone? ‘To Town.’ I perceived that he must have been going to look for me at the nurse’s, and had seen the carriage at Madame de St. Cymon’s door. I hastened after him, and then I recollected that I had left the locket on the table at Madame de St. Cymon’s, that locket for which I had hazarded—lost—everything! The moment I reached home, I ran to Clarendon’s room; he was not there, and oh! Helen, I have not seen him since!
“From some orders which he left about horses, I suppose he went to meet my mother. I dared not follow him. She had desired me to wait for her arrival at her own house. All yesterday, all last night, Helen, what I have suffered! I could not bear it any longer, and then I thought of coming to meet you. I thought I must see you before my mother arrived—my mother! but Clarendon will not have met her till to-day. Oh, Helen! you feel all that I fear—all that I foresee.”