Helen blushed, because she could not help understanding; she was ashamed, vexed with Cecilia, yet pleased by her kindness, and half amused by her arch look and tone.
They were neither of them aware that Lady Davenant had heard the words that passed, or seen the looks; but immediately afterwards, when they were leaving the breakfast-room, Lady Davenant came between the two friends, laid her hand upon her daughter’s arm, and said,
“Before you make any move in a dangerous game, listen to the voice of old experience.”
Lady Cecilia startled, looked up, but as if she did not comprehend.
“Cupid’s bow, my dear,” continued her mother, “is, as the Asiatics tell us, strung with bees, which are apt to sting—sometimes fatally—those who meddle with it.”
Lady Cecilia still looked with an innocent air, and still as if she could not comprehend.
“To speak more plainly, then, Cecilia,” said her mother, “build no matrimonial castles in the air; standing or falling they do mischief—mischief either to the builder, or to those for whom they may be built.”
“Certainly if they fall they disappoint one,” said Lady Cecilia, “but if they stand?”
Seeing that she made no impression on her daughter, Lady Davenant turned to Helen, and gravely said,—
“My dear Helen, do not let my daughter inspire you with false, and perhaps vain imaginations, certainly premature, therefore unbecoming.”