Helen shrunk back, yet instantly looked up, and her look was ingenuously grateful.
“But, mamma,” said Lady Cecilia, “I declare I do not understand what all this is about.”
“About Mr. Granville Beauclerc,” said her mother.
“How can you, dear mamma, pronounce his name so tout an long?”
“Pardon my indelicacy, my dear; delicacy is a good thing, but truth a better. I have seen the happiness of many young women sacrificed by such false delicacy, and by the fear of giving a moment’s present pain, which it is sometimes the duty of a true friend to give.”
“Certainly, certainly, mamma, only not necessary now; and I am so sorry you have said all this to poor dear Helen.”
“If you have said nothing to her, Cecilia, I acknowledge I have said too much.”
“I said—I did nothing,” cried Lady Cecilia; “I built no castles—never built a regular castle in my life; never had a regular plan in my existence; never mentioned his name, except about another person—”
An appealing look to Helen was however protested.
“To the best of my recollection, at least,” Lady Cecilia immediately added.