“Well, well, let it rest so.”
It was all settled, witness present—“two angels to witness,” as Beauclerc quoted from some old play.
And now in high good-humour, up again to nonsense pitch, they all felt that delightful relief of spirits, of which friends, after perilous quarrel, are sensible in perfect reconciliation. They left this melancholy mansion now, with Beauclerc the happiest of the happy, in the generous hope that he should be the restorer of its ancient glories and comfort. The poor old woman was not forgotten as they passed, she courtesying, hoping, and fearing: Lady Cecilia whispered, and the deaf ear heard.
“The roof will not fall—all will be well: and there is the man that will do it all.”
“Well, well, my heart inclined to him from the first—at least from the minute I knew him not to be my young lord.”
They were to go home by water. The boat was in readiness, and, as Beauclerc carefully handed Helen into it, the general said:—“Yes, you are right to take care of Miss Stanley, Beauclerc; she is a good friend in need, at least, as I have found this morning,” added he, as he seated himself beside her.
Lady Cecilia was charming, and every thing was delightful, especially the cold chicken.