Helen looked at him with a doubtful face, and simply said, “I hope it is good, papa.”
“Why, my child, I won't enter into particulars; it is enough to say that I discovered from an accidental meeting with that wretched girl we had here that she was not Miss Herbert, as she called herself, at all, but another, named Catherine Wilson, who, having got from Herbert the letter of recommendation which I read to you, had the effrontery to pass herself for her; but the other report was false. The girl Wilson, apprehensive that either I or Sir Robert might send her to jail, having seen my carriage stop at Sir Robert's house, came, with tears in her eyes, to beg that if we would not punish her she would tell us the truth, and she did so.”
Helen mused for some time, and seemed to decide instantly upon the course of action she should pursue, or, rather, the course which she had previously proposed to herself. She saw clearly, and had long known that in the tactics and stratagems of life, her blunt but honest father was no match at all for the deep hypocrisy and deceitful plausibility of Sir Robert Whitecraft, the consequence was, that she allowed her father to take his own way, without either remonstrance or contradiction. She knew very well that on this occasion, as on every other where their wits and wishes came in opposition, Sir Robert was always able to outgeneral and overreach him; she therefore resolved to agitate herself as little as possible, and to allow matters to flow on tranquilly, until the crisis—the moment for action came.
“Papa,” she replied, “this intelligence must make your mind very easy; I hope, however, you will restore poor faithful Connor to me. I never had such an affectionate and kind creature; and, besides, not one of them could dress me with such skill and taste as she could. Will you allow me to have her back, sir?”
“I will, Helen; but take care she doesn't make a Papist of you.”
“Indeed, papa, that is a strange whim: why, the poor girl never opened her lips to me on the subject of religion during her life; nor, if I saw that she attempted it, would I permit her. I am no theologian, papa, and detest polemics, because I have always heard that those who are most addicted to polemical controversy have least religion.”
“Well, my love, you shall have back poor Connor; and now I must go and look over some papers in my study. Good-by, my love; and observe, Helen, don't stay out too late in the garden, lest the chill of the air might injure your health.”
“But you know I never do, and never did, papa.”
“Well, good-by again, my love.”
He then left her, and withdrew to his study to sign some papers, and transact some business, which he had allowed to run into arrear. When he had been there better than an hour, he rang the bell, and desired that Malcomson, the gardener, should be sent to him, and that self-sufficient and pedantic person made his appearance accordingly.