“海伦就在石灰路上，”科林伍德太太一边向窗外望去，一边对她的丈夫说道。树丛间出现了一个年轻人的瘦弱身影，陷入了深深的哀悼之中：“她走得好慢啊！她看上去很不高兴！”

“是的，”科林伍德先生叹了口气说，“她还年轻，懂得悲伤，懂得与她的天性和教育都不适合的困难作斗争，这些困难是任何人都无法预见的。她的前景发生了多么大的变化啊！”

“确实变了！”科林伍德太太说，“好年轻的女人！——你还记得我们第一次来到塞西尔赫斯特时，她是多么快乐吗？甚至去年，当她希望叔叔康复时，当他谈到带她去伦敦时，她多么享受去那里的想法！那时的世界在她面前一片光明。那个叔叔多么残忍啊，尽管他对她充满了喜爱，却从来没有想过他死后她会变成什么样子：把她培养成女继承人，却让她成为乞丐！”

“但是该怎么办呢，亲爱的？”她丈夫说。

“我确信我不知道；我只能为她着想，你必须为她着想。”

“那我想我必须直接告诉她，她叔叔的事务现在处于什么状态，而且没有给她提供任何保障。”

“还没有，亲爱的，”科林伍德太太说，“我的意思并不是说她没有任何生活保障，这不会让她感到震惊，而是她叔叔的债务——重点是：她会感到可怕的耻辱。”在他的记忆中——她如此温柔地爱着他！”

“但必须说出来，”科林伍德先生坚决地说，“也许现在会更好；也许现在就更好了。”当她的心思全神贯注于对他的悲伤时，她的感受就会减少。”

海伦是安妮·斯坦利上校和夫人的唯一女儿；她的父母在她还很小的时候就去世了，她还不知道自己的损失，直到现在她也没有感觉到自己是一个孤儿，因为她是被她的叔叔迪恩·斯坦利收养的，并以最温柔的方式抚养长大。天才、学识、真诚的虔诚、最深情的心和高度培养的理解力。但在一个问题上他确实缺乏常识；在金钱问题上，他极其轻率和奢侈。奢侈源于慈善、源于品味、源于习惯。他在教堂里拥有丰富的圣职，还有大量的私人财产，人们期望他的侄女会成为一位伟大的女继承人——他自己经常这样说，他对她的喜爱也证实了每个人的这一信念。但院长的品味与他的感情相悖：他过于热情好客、富丽堂皇的建筑超出了他的收入；他过分地沉迷于对所有美术的热情，他是美术的自由赞助人：他收集了一座宏伟的图书馆，并在建筑装饰上投入了大量资金。他的品味太高，心太软——他的心太懂得如何屈服，他永远无法否认自己，更不用说任何其他人，金钱所能带来的任何满足；很快，必然的后果是，他没有钱可以指挥，他的事务陷入了尴尬——他的财产被卖掉了；但是，当他继续以一贯的热情好客和辉煌生活时，全世界都相信他和以前一样富有。

有些人的晋升是因为经济困难的压力，但迪安·斯坦利的情况并非如此，并不是因为缺乏头脑的弹性；但也许是因为他的聪明才智不断地暗示着资源，而他乐观的性格使他陷入了投机之中——但他们失败了，而在他的尴尬给他带来的焦虑和不安中，他的健康状况不佳，他的医生命令他去意大利。海伦是他忠诚的护士，是他所有感情的中心，陪他去了佛罗伦萨。在那里，由于气候的变化，他的健康和精神一开始似乎得到了改善。但在意大利，他发现了新的奢侈诱惑，他的学识和想象力结合在一起，引导他日复一日地进行新的消费，他满足了自己的良心，对自己说，他现在购买的所有东西都只是这么多资本。 ，当这些东西在英国出售时，其售价将超过其原价，而且他自以为会增加他为侄女准备的财富。但有一天，当他正在讨价还价一件古董时，他突然中风了。他的病情康复了，并能够和他的侄女一起返回英国。在这里，他发现自己的债务和困难不断增加；他对他最后选择的主打作品的金钱价值产生了怀疑；他的精神折磨着他虚弱的身体，他再次发作，失去了言语，在挣扎了最忧郁的海伦之后，意识到她对他无能为力——他死了——他的眼睛盯着她的脸，他无力的手握在她的双手之间。

教区里一片荒凉和沮丧。在好心的牧师和他的妻子科林伍德先生和夫人的好心帮助下，海伦被搬到了牧师住宅。

结果发现，院长不但没有留下一大笔财产，反而一无所有。他在教区里布置的一切都沉没了。其不动产全部变卖；他想象中的财富，他的画作，雕像——他的全部收藏，甚至他的书籍，他巨大的图书馆，在他死后估价时都缩水了很多，以至于债权人的要求几乎无法得到满足：至于为小姐提供的任何规定斯坦利，那是不可能的。

这些都是科林伍德夫人不敢透露的情况，而科林伍德先生认为应该立即告诉海伦。但迄今为止，她一直沉浸在对她所爱的叔叔的悲伤之中，以至于没有人冒险承担这项任务。

尽管科林伍德先生和夫人认识她的时间不长（因为他们刚来到附近），但他们对她的孤儿状况深表同情。在她叔叔生病期间，他们已经看够了她，对她产生了热烈的依恋。每个认识她的人，无论贫富，都爱她，因为在她年轻时，从她很小的时候起，她就一直是脾气温和、心地善良的；因为尽管她在最奢华的环境中长大，作为一大笔财产的继承人接受教育，传授每一项成就，习惯每一种时尚的优雅，但她并没有被宠坏——她一点也不自私。确实，舅舅的纵容虽然过分，却始终夹杂着浓浓的感情，早早就打动了她的心，让她整个灵魂都充满了热切的感激之情。

据说，恶人死后仍活着——善人往往与他们的尸骨一起埋葬。迪安·斯坦利的情况却并非如此：他为海伦谋求的好处，他的巨额财产，已经消失殆尽了；但他为他的侄女所做的真正的好事仍然完全有效，并以他的记忆为荣：他给予她的优秀教育——它不仅在这个词的世俗含义上是优秀的，而且在成就和优雅方面也是如此。举止优雅，但出色之处在于赋予了她坚定的责任感，作为行动的伟大原则，并作为她天生热情慷慨的情感的指南。

现在，当海伦散步回来时，科林伍德先生以他所能做到的最温和、最友善的方式，告诉她她叔叔的事务混乱、债务、无法偿还债权人、全部财产全部损失。为了她自己。

科林伍德夫人很早就预见到了这一情报会对海伦产生的影响。起初，她用难以置信的眼神，无法相信她的叔叔有什么罪魁祸首。她两次问——“你确定——你确定——没有错误吗？”当她被强加这个信念时，她的头脑仍然没有像他们认为的那样接受任何事实。她感到惊讶和震惊，除了对她深爱的叔叔的记忆感到羞辱之外，什么也感觉不到。

然后她惊呼道：“我确信其中有一部分不是真的。”她匆忙离开房间，立即回来，手里拿着一封信，没有说话，就把信放在科林伍德先生面前，科林伍德先生擦了擦眼镜。很快，并阅读。

信是写给可怜的院长的，是他的老朋友蒙罗上校写的，信中说他突然被派往印度，必须归还院长多年前交到他手里的一笔钱。 ，为他的侄女斯坦利小姐提供食物。

这封信是在院长病重时送达的。海伦一直不敢把它给他，但又认为这样做是对的。她叔叔读完这封信后，他虽然无法说话，但仍然能够读懂并理解这封信，他用颤抖的手艰难地在背面写下了这些话： “这笔钱是你的，海伦·斯坦利：没有人可以要求它。我走后请教科林伍德先生；把他视为你的监护人。”

科林伍德先生认为，这笔款项是在他偿还目前的债务之前，院长为他的侄女准备的——很多年前，当他卖掉父亲的财产时，他知道自己有铺张浪费的倾向，所以把这笔钱存入了银行。出于他自己的力量。

“好吧——好吧，我亲爱的斯坦利小姐，”牧师说。 “我很高兴——这一切都是你的。”

“不，”海伦说，“我永远不会碰它：拿走它，我亲爱的科林伍德先生，拿走它，在任何人抱怨之前还清所有债务。”

科林伍德先生一言不发地把她压在身边。但想了一会儿，他回答道：“不，不，我亲爱的孩子，我不能让你这样做：作为你的监护人，我不能允许你这样一个年轻的生物，在一瞬间的感情中，就这样放弃了。”你尘世间的全部财富——绝对不能是这样。”

“必须的，确实必须的，亲爱的先生。哦，立即向所有人付款——直接付款。”

“不，无论如何，不​​是直接的，”科林伍德先生说，“当然不是直接的：法律允许一年。”

“但是，如果钱已经准备好了，”海伦说，“我不明白为什么不应该立即偿还债务。有没有法律禁止立即向人们付款？”

科林伍德先生半笑了笑，海伦凭着这半笑，断定他完全屈服了。 “是的，一定要，”她喊道，“立即把这笔钱交给律师詹姆斯先生：你说，他知道这一切，他会看到每个人都得到报酬。”

“留下来，亲爱的斯坦利小姐，”牧师说，“我不能同意这一点，你应该庆幸我很稳定。如果我此时同意，并做你想做的事——付清你的全部财产，你就会后悔，并在年底前——六个月结束之前，指责我的愚蠢行为。”

“从来没有，从来没有，”海伦说。

科林伍德夫人强烈支持她丈夫的观点。海伦说，她根本不知道钱对她来说有多么必要。靠空气生活是相当荒谬的。斯坦利小姐会认为她在这个没有钱的世界上生活下去吗？

海伦说她没那么荒唐。她提醒科林伍德夫人，她应该仍然拥有她母亲的财产。海伦的话还没说完，科林伍德太太就回答道：

“那是不行的，你将永远无法靠它生活；安妮·斯坦利夫人的财产的利息，我知道它是什么，对你所受教育的生活方式来说只是零用钱。你叔叔的一些好朋友当然会马上邀请你，然后你就会发现那群人需要什么。”

“我叔叔的一些朋友也许会，”海伦说。 “但我没有义务去找伟大或优秀的人，如果我负担不起，我就不会，因为我可以依靠我拥有的东西独立生活，无论是多么少。”

科林伍德夫人承认，如果海伦退休后一直住在乡下，她可能会继承她母亲的财产。

“无论我住在哪里——无论我发生什么事情，债务都必须偿还——我自己来偿还；”她边说边拿起笔——“今天的邮件我会写信给詹姆斯先生。”

科林伍德先生对她的态度决定和一般人如此温和、屈服和隐退的坚定感到惊讶，并感到自己没有合法的权力进行抵抗，科林伍德先生最终让步了，同意他会在适当的时候时间用这笔钱来偿还她叔叔的债主； 前提是她在接下来的六个月里生活在她的收入范围内.

海伦微笑着，仿佛这是一个不必要的附加条件。

“我警告你，”科林伍德先生继续说道，“你很可能会在六个月结束之前发现，你会想要用这笔钱中的一部分来偿还自己的债务。”

“不，不，不，”她喊道。 “那是没有丝毫机会的。”

“现在，我亲爱的孩子，”科林伍德夫人说，“既然科林伍德先生已经答应做你想做的事，你会做我们想做的事吗？你愿意答应留在我们身边吗？至少暂时和我们一起住在这里；只要有更好的朋友认领你，我们就会辞去你的职务，但目前你愿意尝试我们吗？

“尝试！”怀着感激和爱意，她只能重复这句话：“试试吧！哦，我亲爱的朋友们，我是多么幸福，一个没有亲人的孤儿，有这样一个家。”

尽管科林伍德先生和夫人没有孩子，但他们对拥有这样一个伴侣——这样一个收养的女儿感到真正的幸福，但他们确信迪恩·斯坦利的一些好朋友和上流社会的熟人会要求他的侄女与他一起度过。城里的春天，或者乡村的夏天，和他们在一起；所有这些高层人士都寄来一封又一封的慰问信给斯坦利小姐，表达了对他们亲爱的和蔼可亲的朋友的怀念，以及对斯坦利小姐、他和他们亲爱的海伦的最深切的敬意。这些礼貌而友善的表情此刻可能是真诚的，但这些亲爱的朋友似乎没有一个想到要为她找麻烦，或者因为在课程中再也见不到他们亲爱的海伦而感到不安。他们的生活。

海伦对她叔叔的评价非常感动，只想到了他。但当她把信拿给科林伍德先生和夫人看时，他们标记了疏忽，读时神情颇为严肃，把信折起来，默默地还给海伦。随后，他们私下里发表了一些评论。

“C——夫人不邀请她，因为她有太多的女儿，而且她们都太丑了，而海伦太漂亮了，”科林伍德夫人说。

“L——夫人的儿子太多了，”科林伍德先生说，“而且他们太穷了，而且海伦现在还不是女继承人。”

“但是老夫人玛格丽特·道，既没有儿子，也没有女儿，是什么阻碍了她呢？哦！她身体虚弱——虚弱的健康对某些人来说是一种祝福——总是让他们无法为任何人做任何事情。”

随后来了许多人，他们总体上希望尽快见到斯坦利小姐。还有一些人“确实非常渴望”让亲爱的海伦和他们在一起；但具体时间和地点却没有具体说明——众所周知，一般性的邀请除了“早上好”之外什么也没有。

科尔德斯特里姆夫人最后说道：“我目前无法透露更多内容”，但没有给出任何理由。

“这是院长亲爱的公爵夫人，她总是在最匆忙的情况下，在括号里写着‘你知道我的心’，‘永远是最真诚和最感人的’——你的。”

“还有达文纳一家，”科林伍德夫人继续说道，“他们是那么近的邻居，对佛罗伦萨的院长也那么友善；他们甚至还没有写信！”

“但他们还在佛罗伦萨，”科林伍德先生说，“他们几乎没有听说可怜的院长去世的消息。”

达文特人是这个地区的伟大人民。他们的住所，塞西尔赫斯特，靠近教区和牧师住宅，但科林伍德夫妇并不认识他们，他们是在院长缺席国外期间来到塞西尔赫斯特的。

“威尔莫特夫人也在这里，”科林伍德夫人继续说，“她像往常一样对其他人感到好奇，想知道巴克夫人没有邀请斯坦利小姐去卡斯尔波特；威尔莫特夫人从来没有想过会邀请她去威尔莫特的堡垒。这就是友谊，就像这个世界一样！”

“自从世界诞生以来一直如此，直到世界末日，”科林伍德先生回答道。 “只有我想到了迪恩·斯坦利的例子——不过，我很高兴他的侄女没有像我们一样看待这一点。”

不——尽管海伦天生反应敏捷，但她没有怀疑任何事情，在每一个借口中都看不出除了完全合理和善意之外的任何东西。她确信她叔叔的朋友们不会有意忽视她。简而言之，她对她所爱的人有着坚定的信念，她爱所有她认为爱过她叔叔的人，或者曾经对她表现出善意的人。海伦还从未经历过忽视或察觉到不真诚，在她真实而温暖的内心中，没有任何迹象表明有两面派的可能性，甚至在友谊中也没有冷漠的可能性。她还不知道——

“任何友谊都无法摧毁
我们早年的爱意，
也无法证明这种喜爱之心，
就像刚开始爱的时候一样；
在可爱的本性被驱逐之前，
而友情是浪漫持有的。
但百眼审慎，
面纱已裂，视野飞扬，
亲爱的幻想不会持久，
过去的结界时代：
生活的狂野浪漫已经完成，
真正的历史开始了！”

过了一段时间，科林伍德先生从早餐桌上站起来，扔掉了当天的报纸，说里面什么也没有。科林伍德夫人扫了一眼，惊呼道——

“你这还叫什么都没有吗？海伦，听听这个！

“上流社会的婚姻——16日，在巴黎大使教堂，克拉伦登将军与达文南伯爵和伯爵夫人的独生女塞西莉亚·达文南夫人结婚。”

“已婚！绝对结婚了！”海伦惊呼道：“我知道会这样，但没想到这么快。大使礼拜堂——你说哪里？——巴黎？不，这肯定是一个错误，他们都在佛罗伦萨——定居在那里，我想他们的信里是这样写的。”

科林伍德夫人指着这段话，海伦看出那肯定是巴黎——不可能有错。这里是对这场婚姻的完整描述，以及所有“出席美丽新娘走向处女膜祭坛的时尚人士”的名单。她父亲把她送走了。”

“那确实是这样，”海伦说。她高兴地得出结论，他们一定都在回家的路上了：“亲爱的达维南特夫人又来塞西尔赫斯特了！”

塞西莉亚女士，“美丽的新娘”，是海伦最亲密的朋友。他们小时候经常在一起，因为教区离塞西尔赫斯特很近，灌木丛通向公园。 “但这不是很不寻常吗，亲爱的。海伦，”科林伍德夫人说，“你应该只在公共报纸上看到你亲爱的塞西莉亚夫人的婚姻的报道，而不是从你的任何朋友那里听说过这件事——没有他们任何一个人的一封信，一句话也没有。 ？”

海伦的脸上笼罩着一层阴云，但很快就过去了，她确信他们已经写信了——有什么东西耽搁了他们的信。她确信是达维南特夫人或塞西莉亚夫人写的；无论如何，无论他们是否写过信，她都确信他们不会有任何恶意；或者，如果他们没有写信，那是因为他们不可能如此匆忙，如此激动。她无法因为一封信或多或少地改变她对朋友的看法。 “的确！”科林伍德夫人说：“你有多久没见过他们了？”

“大约两年；距离我在佛罗伦萨与他们分别才两年。”

“从那以后你就一直和塞西莉亚女士通信？”科林伍德夫人问道。

“不是一直这样。”

“不是一直——哦！”科林伍德夫人用一种拖长的、略带讽刺的语气说道。

“不是经常通信——这样更好，”她的丈夫说：“经常通信总是一种沉重的负担，而且，有时甚至是一种极大的罪恶，尤其是在年轻女士之间——我讨厌看到女士们写着长长的横线信件。 ”

海伦说，塞西莉亚夫人的信从来没有横过，总是短小而间隔远。

“你看起来非常喜欢塞西莉亚女士，”科林伍德夫人说。

“并不奇怪，”海伦回答道，“但我们很喜欢，这也难怪我们是一起长大的。而且”——停顿了一下，她继续说道，“如果塞西莉亚夫人没有像她现在这样慷慨，她可能会——她一定是嫉妒她母亲总是对我表现出的偏袒和喜爱。 ”

“但是达维南特女士的心不是足够容纳两个人吗？”科林伍德夫人问道。 “她不是很喜欢她的女儿吗？”

“是的，据她所知，但她不认识塞西莉亚女士。”

“不认识她自己的女儿！”科林伍德夫妇立即惊呼：“怎么可能？”

“很容易，”海伦说，“因为她很少见到她。”

“塞西莉亚小姐不是在家受过教育吗？”

“是的，但是塞西莉亚夫人还是个孩子的时候，整天和她的家庭女教师在一起，而在塞西尔赫斯特，家庭女教师的公寓很偏僻，在一条长走廊尽头的一侧侧楼里，有一个单独的楼梯;她还不如在另一所房子里。”

“安排不好，”科林伍德先生站在炉边自言自语地说。 “糟糕的安排导致母女分开。”

“那时候，”海伦继续说道，“塞西尔赫斯特总是有很多人。达维南特勋爵是当时的大臣之一。我相信——我知道他见过很多政治人物，而达文南特夫人被迫总是和他们在一起谈话。”

“说！是的是的！”科林伍德先生说：“我完全理解——达维南特夫人是一位伟大的政治家，而女政治家们满脑子都是欧洲事务，根本没有时间考虑自己家庭的事情。”

“怎么了，亲爱的海伦？”科林伍德夫人握住她的手说道。海伦眼里含着泪水，看上去很不高兴。

“我做错了，”她说。 “我说过的话让你对我最钦佩和最爱的人——达维南特女士产生了不好的、错误的看法。我非常抱歉；我做错了很大的事。”

“尤其如此，我亲爱的孩子；你只告诉我们大家都知道的事情——她是一位伟大的政治家；你没有再告诉我们了。”

“但我应该告诉你更多，没有人比我更了解这一点，”海伦喊道，“达文南特夫人比政治家要多得多，也好得多。你可能会想，我太年轻了，无法做出判断，但尽管我很年轻，我还是能看到和感觉到，孩子们可以而且确实经常看到很多性格，我向你保证，达文南特夫人的性格是一种深刻、高尚的性格。 ，你会欣赏的。”

科林伍德夫人惊讶地发现，海伦谈论她时比谈论她亲爱的塞西莉亚夫人还要热情。 “是的，因为她是一个更容易激发热情的人。”

“那你不害怕她吗？”

“我不是这么说的，”海伦回答道。 “但这并不完全是恐惧，更多的是一种敬畏，但我仍然喜欢它。有一些值得仰望的东西真是令人高兴。我更爱达维南特女士，尽管我对她怀有敬畏之心。”

“我更喜欢你对朋友的感受、想法和言论，”科林伍德夫人喊道。 “但让我们看看他们会做什么；当我看看他们能否写信，以及他们写给你的内容时，我会告诉你更多我的想法——如果有信来的话。”

“如果！——”海伦重复了一遍，但没有再说下去——一切就这样停了下来，或者至少停了下来。经一致同意，该主题在几天内没有再次出现。每天早晨，海伦的脸色都会因期待而升起，然后又因失望而褪色。尽管如此，她仍以同样自信的表情说道：“我确信这不是他们的错。”

“时间会证明一切，”科林伍德夫人说。

最后，有一天早上，当她下楼吃早餐时，“胜利了，我亲爱的海伦！”科林伍德太太喊道，举起两封大信，信上潦草地写着“试试这个地方，试试那个地方，误寄到了十字键——在荒原上，天知道在哪里——而且——不管怎样。”

海伦抓起包裹并撕开。一封来自巴黎，是在迪恩·斯坦利去世的消息传出后立即写的；里面有两封信，一封是达维南特夫人写的，另一封是塞西莉亚夫人写的——“写下来，只是想想！”她喊道：“真是太好了！”——就在她结婚的前一天；署名‘塞西莉亚·达文南特，最后一次’——还有达文南特夫人——在他们的幸福中想着我。”

她打开了其他信，这些信是自到达英国以来写的，她急切地读着，然后停了下来，她的表情发生了变化。

“达维南特女士不会来塞西尔赫斯特。达文南特勋爵将被派往彼得堡担任大使，达文南特夫人也将随行！——噢！一切都结束了，我再也见不到她了！——留下来——她将第一个和塞西莉亚夫人一起去克拉伦登公园，无论那儿在哪里，一段时间——她不知道要多久——她希望在那里见到我-哦！多么亲切，多么令人愉快！”海伦自豪地将达文南特夫人的信交到科林伍德夫人手中，并急切地打开塞西莉亚夫人的信。

“太像她自己了！就像塞西莉亚一样，”她喊道。科林伍德夫人读完后承认，没有什么比这更友善的了，因为这是一个邀请，不是含糊的或笼统的，而是特别的，并且是心所愿或心所能够做到的迫切邀请。 “我们周四会在克拉伦登公园，周一期待你，最亲爱的海伦，将军说，正好时间给你答复；所以写下来并说明马会在哪里遇见你，”等等。 ＆C。

“据我所知，当谈到马匹聚会时，这是认真的，”科林伍德先生喊道。 “当然直接去？”

海伦非常激动。

“写——写——亲爱的，直接写，”科林伍德太太说，“让邮差等着。”

她还没写完多少行，路口男孩就发话说他不能再等了。

海伦几乎不知道写了什么，但简而言之，就是接受、签字、盖章、交付，然后她屏住了呼吸。男孩带着装满信件的小跑离开了，他刚离开视线，海伦就看到桌子底下的信封封面，里面有几行还没有读过的诗句。它们是塞西莉亚夫人的笔迹——附言。

“我忘记了，亲爱的海伦，最重要的事情，（你还记得我们的朋友杜蒙对 une betîse: c'est d'oublier la selected essentielle;）我忘了告诉你，将军宣称他不会听到仅仅 访问 来自你。他要我告诉你，必须“直到死亡或结婚”。所以，我亲爱的朋友，您必须尽快下定决心与我们住在一起，直到您找到自己的克拉伦登将军为止。对于这篇后记，没有任何答复——沉默即表示同意。”

“如果我看到这个就好了！”海伦把它放在科林伍德先生和夫人面前时说道，“我应该回答，但事实上，我从来没有看到过它；”她立即​​跳上前去按门铃，喊道：“时间到了——阻止这孩子——‘沉默即表示同意。’”我必须写。我不能就这样离开你们，我亲爱的朋友们。我没有看到那个后记，相信我，我没有看到。”

他们相信她，感谢她，但他们不让她按门铃；他们说她最好不要以任何方式束缚自己，无论是对自己还是对塞西莉亚女士。她必须接受目前的邀请——她必须去见她结婚时的朋友；她必须去见见她的朋友。她必须在出发前向亲爱的达维南特夫人告别。

“他们是比我们年长的朋友，”科林伍德先生说，“他们对你有第一要求；但现在让我们将其视为只是一次访问。至于终生住所，您可以在克拉伦登公园待一段时间后自己做出最好的判断；如果你不想留在那里，你知道我们将多么高兴地欢迎你再次来到这里，我的孩子；或者，如果你决定与那些你认识这么久、深爱的人住在一起，我们不会因为你的选择而生气。”

这种慷慨的仁慈，这种不受嫉妒影响的自由，触动了海伦的心，也增加了她的不安。当她有其他的前景时，她无法忍受忽视这些善良的好人的现实或表面，并且经常在匆忙的准备中，她重复道：“这只是克拉伦登公园的一次访问。我会回到你身边，我会写信给你，我亲爱的科林伍德太太，无论如何，都会不断地写信给你。

当科林伍德先生给她临别祝福时，他提醒她他对她的财产提出了警告。科林伍德夫人提醒她要写信的承诺。马车从门口驶出。海伦的心里充满了即将离开的朋友们，但离别时的激动渐渐平息了，她的泪水止住了，她的心情也变得轻松起来，在克拉伦登公园见到她的朋友们的希望在她的脑海中升起，她的思绪全部集中在她的脑海里。转向塞西莉亚和达维南特夫人。

海伦急切地向车窗外望去，想要第一眼看到克拉伦登公园的景色。这让她很满意——超出了她的预期。这是一个美好的、贵族般的地方：——祖传的树木，还有广阔的公园；成群的鹿，要么是黄色的、深色的，要么是有斑点的，它们的头出现在蕨类植物上方远处的远处，或者在附近吃草，当马车经过时，它们受到了惊吓。在漫长的走道中，她看到了这座房子的各种景色，部分是哥特式的，部分是现代建筑的。看起来规模宏大、宏伟壮观。

到目前为止一切都令人愉快；但现在是她自己的招待会。随着她离房子越来越近，她的呼吸也变得越来越急促。有人站在台阶上。是克拉伦登将军吗？不;只是一个仆人。马车停了下来，更多的仆人出现了，当海伦下了车时，一个看上去很威严的人物告诉她，“塞西莉亚女士和将军出去骑马——只是在公园里——马上就到了。”

当她穿过大厅时，那位崇高的人告诉她，距离晚餐时间还有一个小时，并询问她是否愿意被带到自己的公寓，或者图书馆？海伦感到寒冷和失望，因为这并不完全是她到达时所期望的那样。她心里想象着塞西莉亚跑去大厅迎接她。

她没有回答房间里的新郎，而是问道：“达维南特夫人也出去了吗？”

“不;夫人在图书馆里。”

“那就去图书馆吧。”

她快速地穿过前厅，不耐烦地等着售票员暂时停下来打开折叠门，而一个男人手里拿着一个信箱，同样不耐烦地恳求达维南特夫人可以被告知，“将军的特快专递”在等待。”

达维南特夫人正在匆忙地密封这趟快递的信件，但是当门打开时，她看到了海伦，她把她身上的蜡和信扔了出去，推开沙发桌，上前张开双臂迎接她。

海伦的心里顿时高兴起来。但还有一个负责信箱的人。他必须受到照顾。 “请原谅，海伦，亲爱的——等一下。重要的信件——决不能拖延。”

信写完，还没走完，塞西莉亚夫人就进来了。和以前一样，她的眼睛里充满了深情的喜悦——她美丽的眼睛。一样的，是的，和以前一样的塞西莉亚；但又有所不同：少了一些少女气息，少了一些活泼，但多了一些快乐。塞西莉亚女士拥抱她的那一刻，迅速转身向克拉伦登将军介绍，以为他已经跟着了，但他已经停在大厅里了。

“把信寄出去。”这是海伦听到的第一句话。语气威严，声音非常绅士。不一会儿，他就进来了。身材魁梧，英俊潇洒。正值壮年；具有出身高贵、教养良好的军人气质。绝对是英国人——自豪地是英国人。老派的一些东西——沉着冷静，自愿尊重他人——相当遥远。海伦觉得他欢迎她来到克拉伦登公园的方式非常有礼貌，但如果不那么礼貌——更亲切一些，她会更喜欢。塞西莉亚夫人焦急地看着她，拉着她的手臂，催促她走出房间。她在楼梯脚下停下来，收起骑马服的褶皱，突然转向海伦，说道：

“海伦，亲爱的，你一定不要认为 这”——

“想什么？”海伦说。

“思考 这——你现在为此脸红了。哦，你知道我的意思！海伦，你的想法在你的脸上清晰可见，就像我一直一样。他的态度很保守——也许是冷酷的——但他的内心却并非如此。明白这一点，祈祷——一次永远。你？你愿意吗，亲爱的海伦？

“我愿意，我愿意，”海伦喊道。每过一分钟，她就感觉自己对她的朋友有了更好的理解，也更加满意。塞西莉亚夫人带她参观了为她准备的公寓，她非常高兴地安排了这间公寓。那里的一切不仅是最舒适的，而且特别合她的口味。一些精致的情感证明，童年的回忆，都在那里；纪念品，早期的图画，无意义的东西，不值得保存，但仍然保存着。

“看看我们在一起有多近，”塞西莉亚说着，打开了自己更衣室的门。 “你可以随时闭嘴，但我希望你永远不要这么做。你看，我是如何让你有自己的自由意志的，就像朋友们通常做的那样，但有一个附带条件，至少是希望，你永远不能在任何账户上使用它——就像孩子的半几尼零花钱一样，永远不会被改变。 ”正如她所希望的那样，她俏皮的语气缓解了海伦过于敏锐的情绪。她也很快地感受到了这一点，每一次善意的接触都是她感受到的。海伦握着朋友的手，微笑着没有说话。

在新娘拜访开始之前，他们将独处一段时间，预计会有一大批朋友到来。这对海伦来说是一段特别享受的时光：她有闲暇在从旧的交往中重拾希望的感觉中变得快乐。

她没有忘记写信给科林伍德夫人的承诺；此后（值得赞扬的是，这里注明了）——即使家里挤满了人，当她出于娱乐或感情而时间紧迫时——她也从未忘记给那些优秀的朋友写信。那些最了解其中困难的人会最欣赏她的感激之情的这一证明。

由于塞西莉亚夫人经常与她的丈夫骑马或散步，海伦有机会与达维南特夫人单独相处，达维南特夫人现在给了她一项她以前在塞西尔赫斯特享受过的特权，即早上进入她的公寓全天候，无需担心被视为入侵者。

然而，第一天早上，海伦看到夫人沉浸在文件中，眉头一皱，神情专注，她在门槛上停了下来，“恐怕我打扰了——恐怕我打扰了你。”

“进来吧，海伦，进来吧，”达维南特夫人抬头喊道，脸上的忧虑一扫而光，露出了愉快的光芒——“打扰——是的：打扰——不。海伦，在你小小的生活中，你常常打断我——从来没有打扰过我。从你小时候到现在，我从来没有见你不高兴地进过我的房间。”

然后她扫掉成堆的文件，给旁边沙发上的海伦腾出位置。

“现在告诉我你的情况如何——我听说过关于我的院长朋友的事情的报道——告诉我一切。”

海伦尽可能简短地讲述了一切。她用颤抖的声音匆匆忙忙地讲完她叔叔的事情，还没等她得出结论，达维南特夫人就喊道：

“我很久以前就预见到了这一点：尽管我的朋友拥有所有的美德和才华，但我们不会再回到痛苦的过去。你，我亲爱的海伦，所做的正是我对你的期望，——对；——对，科林伍德先生提出的条件——非常正确。现在讨论下一点：——海伦，你住在哪里？或者更确切地说是和谁一起？

海伦还不太确定，她说她还没有完全确定。

“我是否可以理解，你的疑虑存在于科林伍德夫妇和我女儿之间？”

“是的;塞西莉亚盛情邀请我，但我还不认识克拉伦登将军，他也不认识我。塞西莉亚可能最真诚地希望我能和她住在一起，我相信她确实这么做了。但必须考虑她的丈夫。”

“是的，”达维南特夫人说——“是的；丈夫当然是一个东西 被照顾——用苏格兰的话来说，克拉伦登将军无疑是一个值得考虑的人，——但看来我不是你的安排中值得考虑的人。

就连达维南特夫人说话的语气也变了，干巴巴的，几乎尖酸刻薄，脸上露出失望的表情，这些都表明了强烈的感情，令海伦深感满意。达文南特夫人继续说道。

“海伦·斯坦利，塞西尔赫斯特不是一直都是你的家吗？”

“是的，是的——永远是一个最幸福的家！”

“那为什么塞西尔赫斯特不是你的家呢？”

“我亲爱的达维南特女士！真是太好了！——你多么非常非常好心地希望如此——但我从没想过——”

“海伦，你为什么没有想到这一点？”

“我是说——我以为你要去俄罗斯。”

“亲爱的海伦，你已经决定了吗？”达维南特夫人微笑着说，“你决定我永远不会从俄罗斯回来了吗？难道你不知道你现在是——你曾经是——你将永远是我的女儿吗？”她深情地把海伦拉向她，补充道：“就像我最亲爱的——我不能说是最亲爱的孩子——绝不能，因为我清楚地记得有一次——你当时还是个小生物——你低声对我说，‘永远不要叫我亲爱的吧——慷慨的孩子！”当她说话的时候，她的眼睛里涌出了泪水。但就在这时，有人敲门。 “达文南特勋爵寄来的包裹，由梅普莱托夫先生寄来，夫人。”海伦起身要离开房间，但达维南特夫人用一只手拦住了她，说道：“你一点也不会妨碍我。”她打开了包裹，补充道，当她读书时，海伦可能会“把书放在桌子上，或者翻阅文件夹里的字母”来取乐。

迄今为止，海伦只是用非常年轻的眼睛来看待达维南特夫人。但现在，阔别两年——她的存在中度过了一段漫长的时光——她似乎用新的眼光看待她，每小时对她的性格都有新的发现。与我们再次审视和评判我们早年认识的人时经常发生的情况相反，在海伦看来，达维南特夫人的性格和能力非但没有下降和减弱，反而似乎在上升和扩大，扩大并变得高贵。那里有强烈的灯光和阴影，但这些只会激发并吸引她的注意力。甚至她的缺点——那些她已经有过一些例子的脾气差，也很有趣，因为它们证明了她感情的力量和温暖。

桌子上的书是达维南特夫人在她的旅行马车上的书。他们让海伦了解了读者思想的范围和多样性。其中一些是所谓的演示副本，来自我们自己和外国的几位第一作者；有些是献给达维南特夫人的；其他人则刻有铭文，表示尊重或安抚，或渴望做出判断。

文件夹中包含的信件的签名足以让第一批现代亲笔签名收藏家欣喜若狂，其中最卑鄙的废品也会让剪贴簿成为全世界羡慕的对象。

但是，在这封信中，没有那些令人作呕的赞美之词，没有那些谄媚的书信，没有侮辱写信的人，也没有侮辱收信人：这些信件，无论转得多么巧妙，都无法用语言表达。除了有关各方之外，所有人都感到厌烦。

海伦打开并查看了其中几封信的签名后，心情愉快地坐了下来。 财富的尴尬。一次性读完它们是不可能的。她无法确定从哪一个开始。一本又一本因为太好而无法先读而被放在一边，浏览完每本的内容后，她开始按字母顺序处理它们，直到她被其中的一段话所震惊——她看了看签名，这是名不见经传——她读完了整本书，令人震惊且有趣。同一手上有好几封信，海伦惊讶地发现它们是按照日期排列的，是达文南特夫人自己写的——和那些享有盛誉的人的信一起保存下来！她毫不犹豫地继续阅读这些内容。他们身上没有任何矫揉造作的感觉——非常简单和自然，“真实的感觉，和天才”，当然是天才，她想！——而且作者的性格中似乎有一些浪漫和不寻常的东西。他们的签名是格兰维尔·博克勒克！

这个格兰维尔·博克勒克到底是谁？她继续读下去，直到达文南特夫人完成了她的包裹，按照她的习惯，按响了银色手铃，召唤她的侍从。铃声一响，海伦就惊呆了，达维南特夫人问道：“亲爱的，谁的信让你如此心不在焉？”

侍者卡洛斯这时进来了，达维南特夫人快速扫了一眼信上的字迹后，用葡萄牙语向卡洛斯下达了命令，然后回到海伦身边，没有再理会这些信，而是继续往前走。就在她停下来的地方。 “海伦，我记得你九岁左右的时候，平时胆怯的你，像小狮子一样大胆地挺身而出，为塞西莉亚的辩护而攻击我；我忘记了细节，但我记得你说我不公正，而且我不认识塞西莉亚，你是对的；所以，为了奖励你，你会看到我现在对她完全公正，并且我像你的心所希望的那样喜欢她。在看到塞西莉亚真心相爱之前，我真的从未真正了解过她。我原以为她没有能力去爱；我认为取悦所有人的愿望一直是她的主导激情——这种主导激情，是她心胸狭隘、心冷漠的；但我做错了她。在另一个更重要的问题上，我也错了。”

达维南特夫人停了下来，认真地看着海伦，海伦的眼睛在说：“我很高兴”，但她不太确定自己知道她所暗示的是什么。

“塞西莉亚从与克拉伦登将军交往之初就以坦诚的态度对待我，从而纠正了自己的错误，并赢得了我的好感。”达维南特女士再次停下来思考，并玩弄了手中的药片。

“有人说，当我们的过失因环境、年龄等的变化而消失时，我们很容易自以为我们已经摆脱了过失；如果这些过错已经完全消失，并且不会再有再次出现的危险，那么也许这并没有多大意义：我们以前的所有误解都是由于塞西莉亚性格的怯懦而产生的；而我们之间的所有误解都源于塞西莉亚的懦弱性格。对我来说——无论如何——无论我们中谁错得最大。”

“真的，真的，”海伦急切地喊道。为了避免痛苦的回忆再次出现，她继续快速地问了几个有关塞西莉亚婚姻的问题。

达维南特夫人微笑着，并承诺她会详细了解这段婚姻的全部历史。

“当我写信给你时，我给了你一些关于这个主题的一般想法，但有些东西是不能写得很好的，即使是对像你这样安全的年轻朋友来说，因为写下来的东西仍然存在，而且往往是为了那些从来没有打算让谁看到它；这 菜单式菜单 很少能安全或令人满意地在纸上展示出来，所以把我的绣框给我吧，如果没有我的双手，我永远无法分辨清楚。”

当海伦设置绣花架时，达文南特夫人寻找一些丝绸和丝绸卷绕器。

“拿着这些，亲爱的，为我缠绕这丝丝绸，因为我必须让我的听众舒适地安顿下来，而不是像'世界’靠在桌子上，角落总是碰到他。”

“我必须回去，”达维南特夫人继续说，“回到黑暗时代，那时我除了你偶然给我的光照之外，对我女儿的性格一无所知。我将继续讲述中世纪宗教改革之前的故事，当时你和你亲爱的叔叔离开我们在佛罗伦萨；大约两年前，当塞西莉亚处于征服的巅峰时，大约是某个德奥比盖上校蓬勃发展的时候，你还记得他吗？

海伦用一种相当克制的声音回答“是的”，这使得达维南特夫人抬起头来，看到那询问的表情，海伦脸色红了，尽管她希望世界不要那么愚蠢。这件事是塞西莉亚的事，海伦只希望不要再发生这样的事情，但她现在通过涂色，确实吸引了达维南特夫人的注意力，随着目光的延长，她的涂色越来越多。

“我知道我错了，”达文南特女士说。 “我原以为多比尼上校对你这个缩影的狂喜只是一种佯攻；但我看出他确实是你的崇拜者，海伦？”

“我的！哦，不，从来没有！”尽管如此，她还是害怕说出一些会牵连到塞西莉亚的话，尽管她说的是实话，但在达维南特夫人的歧视性耳朵里，她的语气却显得不太自然——海伦看到了怀疑，补充道，

“不可能，我亲爱的达维南特女士！你知道我那时还很小，还是个孩子呢！”

“不，不，不完全是；我想，十八岁和十六岁还剩下两个，而在我们这个时代，十六岁绝对不是一个孩子。”

海伦没有回答。她的思绪回到了多比尼上校第一次被介绍给她的时候，那是在她叔叔生病之前，当时她的思绪全神贯注于他，以至于她对其余的一切都只有一个混乱的回忆。

“现在你是对的，亲爱的，”达文南特夫人说。 “绝对沉默是正确的。在困难的情况下什么也不说；但你如此不安地坐在它下面仍然是错误的，因为那看起来好像有 是 东西“。

“地球上什么都没有！”海伦喊道：“如果你不看我 so，我清澈的达维南特女士。”

“那么，亲爱的海伦，不要弄断我的绣花丝；那个混蛋太不谨慎了，相信我，亲爱的，那个绕丝器的螺丝并不像你想让我想的那样受到责备；对自己和我要有耐心。没有造成巨大的伤害，没有难以忍受的指责，你没有被指责爱或喜欢，只是被钦佩。” “绝不！”海伦喊道。

“好吧！现在已经没有任何意义了；这个人要么快死了，要么已经死了。”

“我很高兴，”海伦喊道。

“多么野蛮啊！”达维南特夫人说，“但算了，我既不高兴也不遗憾；亲爱的，蔑视比仇恨更有尊严、更安全。

“现在回到塞西莉亚；不久之后，我不会说多比尼时代，但在你离开我们之后不久，我病了，塞西莉亚对我过分友善。她的慈爱之心从来没有失败过，我意识到我对她有点严厉，因此我更能感受到这一点。我恢复得很慢；我无法忍受把她关在病房里这么长时间，但我不太喜欢和她一起出去的两个监护人，尽管他们都是有地位的人，而且性格无可挑剔——一个是英国人，一个是英国人。世界上最好的女人，却是最愚蠢的；另一个是外国人，是世界上最和蔼可亲的女人之一，但却是最虚伪的。我说服塞西莉亚断绝了这种关系——我不知道该怎么称呼它，这不是友谊，我和女儿的关系越来越近了。美好的时光开始显现，但我们之间仍然缺乏同情心。我的注意力集中在达维南特勋爵的兴趣上，而她的兴趣则集中在娱乐和钦佩上。她的征服次数不计其数，她也以此为荣，因为，在你我看来，塞西莉亚在宗教改革之前，一点也不卖弄风骚。你不会允许的，你没有看到，你没有和她出去，而且你比她小三四岁，不可能很好地批评塞西莉亚的行为；相信我是对的，她一点也不卖弄风骚。她不知道，我相信我也不知道，她有一颗心，直到她结识了克拉伦登将军。

“我们第一次见到他，”——注意到海伦眼中注意力的集中，达维南特夫人微笑着说道，“年轻的女士们总是喜欢听‘我们第一次见到他’。——我们第一次见到将军克拉伦登——请原谅我是这个月的哪一天——在佛罗伦萨的画廊里。我忘记了他是怎么没有被介绍给我的——他一定是被介绍给达维南特勋爵的。但事情确实如此，塞西莉亚很新鲜地看到一个像他这样外表的男人在他第一次到来时却没有表现出渴望让她认识的野心。他背对着我们站着，正在欣赏美丽的抹大拉。我记得当我以陌生人的身份见到他时，也就是最能判断外貌的时候，他的外表给我的印象是一位杰出人物；但我没想到，站着的是塞西莉亚的丈夫！我的母性本能几乎没有指导我。

“当我们走近时，他转过身看了一眼塞西莉亚；她看了他一眼。他走了过去，她叫我停下来检查他一直欣赏的那幅画。

“从克拉伦登将军抵达的那一刻起，佛罗伦萨的每一位英国母亲，除了我自己，都把目光集中在他身上。但无论我在政治的大舞台上可能是什么，或者可能应该是什么，我相信我从未被指控，甚至被怀疑是在小范围的国内范围内的操纵者。

“我在这些事情上的愚蠢名声也许是有利的。他并没有像对待那些有识之士那样回避我。一百份关于他的报道四起，最后最终确定了一份，说他决心永远不结婚。然而他是美丽和优雅的狂热崇拜者，据说他在他想要取悦的地方从未失败过。他反对婚姻的决心的秘密被八卦的公众以多种不同的方式解释为荒谬的。事实是，在他自己的家庭中，以及在一个特定的朋友的家庭中，大约此时发生了两三起可耻的阴谋，随后是“公开的可耻生活”。其中一件被称为“悲伤事件”的事件，是有预谋的背叛和堕落的。多年来，这位女士一直是，或者似乎是，一个典型的妻子，几个孩子的母亲。然而，她却早已背叛并最终抛弃了一位最和蔼可亲、最值得信赖的丈夫，与一个不爱她、只关心自己、一个自私、虚荣和恶习的令人厌恶的怪物在一起了！据说这个女人曾经是善良的，但由于居住在国外——受到外国挥霍的蔓延，而变得腐败和堕落。在另一个例子中，被诱惑的妻子原本是最和蔼可亲、思想纯洁、异常美丽的，被她的丈夫、克拉伦登的特别朋友、公众评价很高的男人所崇拜。丈夫开枪自杀。据说，引诱者是这位女士的初恋情人。这些情况自然会给克拉伦登留下深刻的印象。感觉越多——心灵就越强大，它可能就越深刻、越持久。除了他普遍反对婚姻的决心之外，我们听说他还特别决心反对与任何旅行过的女士结婚，尤其是反对任何有初恋危险的女人。如何避免或确定这种危险，母女俩面面相觑，没有询问，至少没有回答。

塞西莉亚显然并不关心，在她与年轻同伴们的欢乐时尚之后，听到这些崇高的决心并嘲笑了她，并惊讶于这个决心能坚持多久。克拉伦登将军当然不能不被介绍给我们，不能不参加我们的集会，也不能避免在佛罗伦萨的所有英国和外国社交圈中与我们见面。但每当他遇到我们时，他总是保持安全距离：这种谨慎标志着他的危险感。也许是为了避免被人这样解读，他礼貌地冷漠地向我走来。我们就欧洲大陆的状况和欧洲的事务进行了非常明智的交谈；然而，我并没有把我自己或他局限于政治，我给了他很多无意识的在谈话中展示的机会，而不是他的能力，因为它们没什么了不起的。但他的人品，却是一流的。他的性格生来就是为了征服、着迷、终生依恋的，身上散发着光芒。它首先满足了塞西莉亚的好奇心。她以为自己只是好奇，一开始她只是听着，中间还哼着歌剧曲调，一副毫不在意的样子。但是，她的想象力被抓住了，从那时起，通过其他人可能说的每一件事，通过她自己所说的一切，她听到了我们将军所说的每一句话，甚至是他在第二次或第二次重复说的话。第三手。因此，她适时得知，他认为女人很英俊，比塞西莉亚·达维南特夫人还要英俊。但她的举止中有一种特别适合他的品味——他挑剔的品味！他说她没有卖弄风情。从他认识她的那一刻起，这就是真的，完全是真的。她没有虚伪，他也没有错误；当真正的爱情一触即发，虚荣和卖弄就结束了。他想，她的顺从——她对母亲的爱，是多么迷人。我们之间如此完美的信心——如此迅速的智慧。这里也没有欺骗，只是塞西莉亚的一点自欺欺人。她真的突然变得更喜欢我了。她不知道她的恐惧变成了什么。但我非常清楚我的新魅力和我真正的优点；我是电击的良好且安全的导体。

“有一天，当我只是听一个人通过自己对另一个人说话时，我没有立即明白其中的意思，或者我相信听到了将军所说的话。塞西莉亚不知不觉地替我回答，并表明她完全明白：——他鞠躬——她脸红了。

“男人通常对女人的脸红反应很敏锐。但我们的将军并不虚荣，只是骄傲；他的脸红并不是归咎于他自己，而是归咎于她。他想，这证明了她的内心如此单纯，如此未受世俗的污染，如此不同——简而言之，如此像他在了解太多之前在幻想中画过的那个女人——。塞西莉亚女士现在是一个完美的天使。这一切他一言不发，但听得懂，就像是说出来一样：他的嘴唇紧紧地抿着，整个人的外表很镇定——寒冷刺骨；——然而塞西莉亚从这一切中看到——这就是女人在某些情况下的插入——塞西莉亚看到了迟早会发生的事情。他仍然为自己的谨慎感到自豪，没有说话、没有表情、没有叹息，决心保持冷静，直到他的判断完全得到满足。最后这个判断完全得到了满足。也就是说，他热烈地恋爱了——亲爱的，他完全“陷入”了“恩典的强烈辛劳中”，然后他扑倒在塞西莉亚的脚下。她并不像他想象的那么惊讶，但比他大胆希望的更高兴。然而，他骄傲的谦逊告诉塞西莉亚，决不能有小事。

“他要么太害怕自己的命运，
或者他的沙漠很小，
谁害怕触碰它，
赢得或失去一切。

“他接受了考验，并赢得了一切。确实，克拉伦登将军是一个有可能赢得并保持女人的爱的男人，除其他充分理由外，爱情和荣誉与他密不可分，他所崇拜的偶像必须保持自己所达到的高度她，或者不再接受他的崇拜。对于每一个路过的崇拜者来说，她一定不是普通的粗俗偶像。”达文南特夫人停了下来，海伦抬起头，犹豫了一下，说道：“希望克拉伦登将军不要嫉妒。”

“不：他太骄傲了，不会嫉妒，”达维南特夫人回答道。

骄傲的人从来不嫉妒吗？海伦想。

“我的意思是，”达文南特夫人继续说道，“克拉伦登将军太骄傲了，不会嫉妒他的妻子。据我所知，在塞西莉亚属于他之前，他可能会对她感到嫉妒，因为那时她只是一个女人，就像另一个人一样；她是个女人。但一旦他——一旦对演员做出了判断，他性格中的优点和缺点就都保证了他对妻子的完全信任，“他的选择和激情都得到了认可”。从脾气和原则上来说，他是不可改变的。我承认，我认为这位将军可能有点固执。但是，正如伯克所说，虽然固执确实是一种恶习，但碰巧的是，所有伟大的男子气概的美德，恒心，忠诚，坚韧，宽宏大量，都与这种令人不快的品质密切相关，我们对此感到非常憎恶。 。

“对塞西莉亚来说，最特别的是，她有一个性格坚定的丈夫，一个她可以信赖的丈夫，一个她可以，她必须仰望的人，即使不是总是，但在所有需要做出决定的重要场合，或完整性要求。她和她的将军之间的关系就像婚姻中应有的那样，双方都具有对方所拥有的补偿品质：克拉伦登将军在智慧上不如塞西莉亚，但在判断力上却优于塞西莉亚；文学水平较低，世界知识较高；在能力上，在所谓的天才上，完全不如我的女儿，但在统治力上却远胜我女儿， 心灵的力量。心灵的力量是一种依恋力，也是一种统治力：所有的人类，尤其是女性，都会依恋那些拥有控制她们心灵的力量的人。是的，海伦，我对他们的婚姻感到满意，也对你的祝贺感到满意：你的婚姻就是我喜欢的那种。庸俗的人——我所说的庸俗的人是指所有思想庸俗的人——非常伟大的庸俗人们祝贺我女儿的财富和未来的爵位（指的是公爵爵位）的确立，这一切都是世人所希望的。但我很高兴它是我女儿品格和幸福的保障。再次感谢您，我亲爱的年轻朋友，您的同情；你可以理解我，你可以和我一起感受。”

富有同情心，聪明，敏捷，热情，不知疲倦，不知疲倦，像海伦这样，在朋友中真是一种迷人的素养；一个骄傲的人唯一的义务，永远不会因为骄傲而无法接受；海伦最高兴的是能够同情达维南特夫人——一般来说，达文南特夫人从不谈论自己，也不透露自己的私人感情，即使是对那些与她亲密相处的人也是如此。海伦感到自己对自己因此获得的信任负有责任，她心中激起了强烈的野心，要证明她的上级朋友对她的高度评价是合理的。她决心成为人们相信的那样的人。当蜡烛的火焰突然升向上面的东西时，她的精神升到了她朋友所指的地方。

海伦在克拉伦登公园的完美幸福并没有持续多久。那些生来没有被美好感情所祝福或诅咒的人，或者那些在世界的艰难中磨掉了自己的细腻的人，可以很幸福，或者至少足够幸福，而不必确定他们是否真的受到那些有感情的人的尊重或喜欢。他们住谁。许多人，甚至是一些高学历的人，当衣食无忧、生活必需品齐全、生活奢侈、外表保养得很好时，他们很少或根本不关心内心的情感。

但海伦既不是那种顽固的哲学派，也不是天生迟钝的人。她属于过度焦虑的人。克拉伦登公园 (Clarendon Park) 周围充满了生活的光彩，并立即期待着见到英格兰第一个社会并被英格兰第一个社会看到；她确信自己会受到与她同住的两个人的温柔爱戴和高度尊重，但对第三个的怀疑开始让她感到痛苦。克拉伦登将军是否真的喜欢她，这个问题有时像沉重的负担一样悬在她的脑海里——然后她时常回想起塞西莉亚第一天告诉她的话，并努力相信，他对陌生人表现出的矜持态度很自然，但很快就会消失。但对她来说，冰冷的感觉并没有消融。她是这么感觉的，或者说是她想象的，但她无法决定。她以前从未与任何一个她可以怀疑的人一起生活过，因此，正如她对自己说的那样，“我知道我是一个糟糕的判断者。”她害怕向塞西莉亚敞开心扉。达文南特女士是最安全的咨询对象。然而，海伦虽然年轻时还很娇嫩，但她却有所顾虑，无法把自己的勇气发挥到极致。每天早上，她去达维南特夫人的房间时，心里已经下定了决心，但还是一言不发地走了。最后，一天早上，她开始说：

“亲爱的达维南特夫人，有一天你说过关于克拉伦登小姐来访的事。也许——我担心——总之我想，——我担心，将军不喜欢我在这里；我想，也许他对他妹妹不在这里感到不高兴——他认为塞西莉亚邀请我阻止了他妹妹的到来；但后来你告诉我他没有嫉妒的脾气，不是吗？”

“区分，”达维南特夫人说； “区别正如古老的法国形而上学家常说的， 区别，有各种各样的嫉妒，就像爱情一样。老浪漫主义者区分了 爱 和 爱恋。不管这意味着什么，我请允许我相信，在两者之间进行完全可理解的区分 爱情百叶窗 和 友好百叶窗。现在，申请；当我告诉你我们的将军不会受到嫉妒时，我应该区分一下，然后说： 爱情百叶窗——爱情中的嫉妒，但我不会保证他不会 友好百叶窗我的意思是，对友谊的嫉妒——对朋友和亲戚的嫉妒。我——我想我已经看到了这种症状，他不喜欢我对塞西莉亚的影响，也不喜欢你的影响，亲爱的。”

“我全都明白，”海伦大声说道，“而且我从一开始就是对的；我看到他不喜欢我，他永远也一定会不喜欢我、厌恶我——我在每一个眼神、每一个字、每一个语气中都看到了这一点。”

“现在，我亲爱的海伦，如果你正在尽情发挥你的想象力，我祝你旅途愉快，在你回来之前我会写我的信，”达文南特夫人拿起笔说道。

海伦请求原谅，并抗议说她不会依靠任何想象力——她现在没有想象力了——她恳求达文南特夫人继续说下去，因为她非常渴望知道全部真相，无论它是什么。达维南特夫人放下笔，把自己所知道的一切都告诉了她。首先，塞西莉亚不喜欢克拉伦登小姐，克拉伦登小姐虽然是一位非常值得尊敬的人，但却有着一种不妥协的真诚，而且与 布鲁斯奎里 这种态度是塞西莉亚无法忍受的。达维南特夫人说她不知道她的女儿是如何在不冒犯弟弟的情况下拒绝姐姐的。这就是塞西莉亚的秘密，也许它就在于她自己迷人的做事方式，再加上整个事件发生在结婚前几天，当时没有什么可以对当选的新娘不利的。 “正如塞西莉亚告诉我的那样，将军希望她写信邀请你，海伦；她这样做了，我对此感到非常高兴。这就是我对这件大事的全部了解。”

但海伦无法忍受违背将军的意愿，代替他所爱的妹妹出现在那里。哦，她是多么非常非常不幸，她所有的希望都破灭了——而塞西莉亚的好意全都化为泡影。亲爱的，亲爱的塞西莉亚！——要不是为了整个世界，海伦就不会那么自私——她不会冒着恶作剧的危险。她绝不会利用自己对塞西莉亚的影响力来反对将军。哦，如果他认为可能的话，他对她的性格是多么了解。

海伦此时已泪流满面。然后，强烈的不公正感变成了愤慨。眼泪擦掉，骄傲占了上风，她惊呼道：“她知道自己应该做什么，她知道自己会做什么——她不会呆在主人不希望她呆的地方。尽管她是孤儿，但她无法接受任何既不喜欢也不尊重她的人的保护或义务。她会缩短她在克拉伦登公园的访问时间——按照他的心所希望的那样短——她永远不会成为任何分歧的原因——可怜的、亲爱的、善良的塞西莉亚！她会直接写信给科林伍德夫人。在最后这些语无伦次的句子结束时，海伦对达维南特夫人绝对镇定的不动和沉默感到敬畏。海伦站在她面前受到责备。

“你与其写信给科林伍德太太，不如立刻就走不是更好吗？” ” 夫人说，声音如此平静，语气如此略带讽刺，除了敏锐的耳朵之外，任何人都可能会觉得这句话是认真的——“要我按铃，叫你的马车吗？她边说边把手放在门铃上，停在那里，继续说道：“立刻出发真是太兴奋了；如此明智、如此有礼貌、如此体贴 亲爱 塞西莉亚——对将军那么有尊严，对我又那么友善，海伦，我要去远方，也许再也见不到你了。”

“对不起！”海伦喊道； “你在的时候我永远不能走。”

“我不知道当你似乎失去了理智时，你会怎么想。”

“我已经把它们找回来了，”海伦说。 “我会做任何你想做的事情——无论你认为最好的事情。”

“我亲爱的孩子，这一定不是我喜欢的，也不是我认为最好的，而是你自己认为最好的；否则当我在俄罗斯时你会怎么样？必须有某种更高、更稳定的行动原则来指导你。这绝不是仅仅希望取悦这个或那个朋友；——海伦，你性格的缺陷，记住我告诉你，是——过度渴望被爱，这种不被爱的不耐烦——就在刚才让你准备放弃你在地球上最好的两个朋友，因为你想象，或者你怀疑，或者你害怕，第三个人，几乎是一个陌生人，在他有时间认识你之前会不喜欢。”

“我真是太傻了，”海伦说。 “但现在我会变得明智，我会做任何正确的事情。如果我确信主人不希望这样，你肯定不会让我住在这里吧？”

“当然不是——当然不是，”达维南特夫人重复道。 “但让我们看看前面的路；亲爱的，永远不要驰骋，更不用说跳跃；永远不要动，直到你看清路；——一旦确定克拉伦登将军不希望你在这里，也不同意你作为他妻子的伴侣，我作为你最好的朋友，会说，走吧，然后加速你的旅程；然后，尽你所能地骄傲、精神；但那些意识到自己拥有真正精神的人永远不应该——很少如此——急于表现出来。这种急于求成的行为对男人来说是有失尊严的，对女人来说也是不优雅的。”

海伦承诺她会耐心等待：“但是请准确地告诉我，”她说，“你想让我做什么。”

“没什么，”达文南特夫人说。

“没有什么！ “至少这很容易。”海伦微笑着说道。

“不，没有你想象的那么容易；有时需要不小的精神力量。”

“精神力！”海伦说：“恐怕我没有。”

“那就去买吧，亲爱的，”她的朋友说。

“但是我可以吗？”

“当然;精神的力量，就像身体的力量一样，可以通过锻炼来提高。”

“如果我有任何开始的话——”海伦说。

“你有一些，海伦，在某一方面有很多，否则我为什么要对你有更多的尊重，或者对你有更多的希望，而不是任何其他穿着考究、受过良好教育的美女，任何一个年轻的部落那些从我面前走过却从未让我的目光凝视过片刻的女士们？”

“但是，我亲爱的达维南特女士，您的意思是指什么？”海伦焦急地说。 “恐怕你误会了；你认为我在哪些方面表现出了坚强的意志力？告诉我，我会告诉你真相。”

“你会的，这就是我的意思。自从我认识你以来，你总是像此时此刻一样，胆小如鼠，却勇敢地说出真话；我相信真理是友谊唯一真正持久的基础；除了真理之外，一切事物都存在着腐朽和消解的原则。现在再见了，亲爱的；——等等，再多说一句——某位古典诗人中有一句话，说“对恶意的怀疑永远不会不产生它”——在你与克拉伦登将军的交往中记住这一点；不要怀疑他对你怀有恶意，如果你不想表现出任何恶意，你就必须没有任何感觉。绝对把你可能听到或想象到的关于克拉伦登小姐的一切，或者她哥哥因她而产生的偏见抛诸脑后。”

“我会的——我真的会的。”海伦说，然后他们就分开了。有时，几句话会对人类生活中的事件产生重大影响。也许即使在那些普遍认为建议从来没有好处的人中，也没有人记不起一些话——一些改变了他们未来生活色彩的谈话。

海伦对克拉伦登将军对她的看法过于焦虑，现在与达文南特夫人所激发的更高的兴趣相平衡，她以新生的勇气迎接了他。塞西莉亚夫人倒不是觉得有必要，只是出于预防的目的，对将军说了一些奉承的话，重复了各种漂亮的赞美之词，以及他对她说过的关于海伦的好话。这些总是让海伦此刻很高兴，但她永远无法使她被告知的他对她的评价与他对她说的话完全一致：事实上，他说得很少，以至于在所说的话和所说的话之间没有绝对的差异。据报道所说的话；但看起来仍然不同意这些意见，或者暗示的热情。

一天早上，塞西莉亚夫人告诉她，将军希望她能和他们一起出去，“你必须来，确实必须，尝尝他漂亮的泽利卡；”他昨晚告诉我，他希望一切顺利。”

就在她说话的时候，塞西莉亚夫人恰巧进来了，她用一种几乎是在呼吁他执行她的请求的神情向他发出恳求。但他只是说，如果斯坦利小姐愿意为他带来这份荣幸，如果泽利卡对她来说不是太难受的话，他一定会很高兴。但他不能承担提供建议的责任。然后他寻找一些他要找的文件，并以尽可能礼貌和恭敬的方式经过她，然后离开了房间。

海伦半苦半笑地看着塞西莉亚，询问她所说的一切是不是有点——”再加上美丽的真实。=

塞西莉亚夫人的脸微微红了，她迅速地抗议道，她向海伦重复过的将军的话都是千真万确的——“我不会发誓——因为首先发誓并不漂亮，其次，因为我永远记不起任何人说过的话，或者我自己的话，五分钟后就记不起来了。”

一半是出于玩笑，一半是出于抗议，塞西莉亚夫人半信半疑地说服了海伦。但从那时起，她不再重复赞美，无论真假，都没有什么好处，事情进展得更好了。看到这一点，她就让他们顺其自然，在所有这种情况下，这是最好的方式。

现在客人开始出现，将军的一些参谋也到了。克拉伦登公园恰好位于克拉伦登将军指挥的地区，因此他可以经常居住在那里。那是所谓的好邻居，有很多参观的地方，也有很多娱乐活动。

一天晚餐时，海伦坐在将军和一位优秀的年轻卫兵之间，这名卫兵对自己的优点有深刻的认识，而且他对年轻女士的时尚冷漠态度允许，他表现出了一些吸引海伦的愿望。注意。当他费力地说出一些话的时候，他发现她的注意力被对面的一位绅士分散了，这位绅士刚刚从欧洲大陆回来，除此之外，他还报道了结婚和死亡等新闻，这让他很生气。国外的英语教授提到“可怜的多比尼”终于死了。

海伦首先看向塞西莉亚，她发现塞西莉亚听得很平静。然后是达维南特夫人，她同时不知不觉地看了一眼她的女儿，然后是海伦，她的目光与她相遇了——海伦只是因为联想而脸红，因为她以前也脸红过——令人发指！但又无可奈何。一切都过去了，时间比我们能描述的要短，海伦离开了正在执行判决的卫兵，感到很沮丧，他的目光现在落在了她身上。她困惑地转过身去，将军的目光投向他，但他只是邀请她品尝某种特殊的葡萄酒，他认为她会喜欢，她欣然接受，并称赞道，尽管她肯定不知道至少它有什么味道。将军现在竭尽全力地与卫兵谈论晋升事宜，并吸引海伦的所有观察。然而，他的脸上却没有丝毫看到、听到或理解的迹象，也没有对多比尼上校表现出丝毫的好奇或兴趣。然而，海伦凭直觉确信有一点，他已经注意到了他如此巧妙、如此冷静地掩盖的困惑。她用一个真诚的眼神向他表示感谢，而他也以最令人欣慰的眼神回应。她说不出来是怎么回事，但看起来他比她以前从他身上看到的任何表情都更理解她、更喜欢她。两人都轻松多了。第二天，他确实证明了塞西莉亚之前的所有保证都是正确的，因为他迫切希望让她加入骑马队伍。他亲自把她放在马背上，吩咐副官和塞西莉亚女士一起骑马——三遍把缰绳放在斯坦利小姐的手里，向她保证她不必害怕，泽利卡是最温柔的动物，并且在他们出去的整个过程中，他让他那匹火热的马“快步”保持着适合她的步伐。海伦鼓起勇气，这次骑行给她带来了很多好处。

骑行活动不断重复，将军显然对斯坦利小姐越来越感兴趣。他不断迎合她的品味，并表示他将她视为家庭的一部分。但是，正如海伦告诉达维南特夫人的那样，对于一个举止高雅、脾气内向的人来说，很难确定什么是对她的性别的普遍尊重，什么是对个人的特别尊重，什么是对她的尊重。对他的客人的热情好客，或对他妻子的朋友的关注，这可能被视为他自己渴望分享这种友谊的证据，以及他真正希望她继续与他们住在一起的证据。

当她正处于这种不确定之中时，达维南特勋爵从伦敦赶来。他一直很喜欢海伦，现在第一眼看到她深切哀悼的青春身影，回想起上次见面以来所发生的巨大变化，让他心潮澎湃——他把她搂在怀里，并且无法说话。他！他身材魁梧，脸上带着天生的喜悦——但事实就是如此；他的外表下有一颗温柔的心，有着深厚的感情。 漫不经心 欺骗了世界。他是一位杰出的政治领袖，但正如他自己所说，他曾三次被注入野心——一次是他的母亲，一次是他的兄弟，一次是他的妻子；但进展并不顺利。然而，最后一个是最好的——它至少足以让他的朋友们满意，他很高兴不再受到折磨。他才华横溢，正直不屈，他的性格并不属于那种严厉的东西——不，不是那种腐败的东西——而现代的野心应该是由这些东西构成的。

他现在有话要告诉海伦，甚至在他公布伦敦新闻预算之前他就会说出来。他带着祝贺的微笑告诉她，他有机会展示他对科林伍德先生优点的认识；说话的时候，他把一封信塞到了她手里。

这封信是她的好朋友科林伍德先生写来的，他接受了达文南勋爵授予他的西印度群岛主教职位。信中附有一封写给海伦的信，希望她能以最友善的方式立即明确地告诉他她打算住在哪里、和谁住在一起。科林伍德夫人在附言中充满了爱意、怀疑、希望和恐惧。

海伦写完这封信的那一刻，似乎没有理会在场所有人询问的目光，也没有看向其他任何人，她故意走到克拉伦登将军面前，请求与他单独交谈。将军从未如此惊讶过，但当然，他太像将军了，不会让这种情况出现。他二话不说，伸出手臂，领着她去了书房。他向她拉了一把椅子——

“希望没有不幸，斯坦利小姐？如果我能帮忙的话——”

“唯一的服务，克拉伦登将军，”海伦说，她的态度变得镇静，声音也稳定下来，“你现在能为我做的唯一的服务就是告诉我简单的事实，这将防止肯定会发生的事情。”对我来说是一种不幸——也许对我们所有人来说。你会读这封信吗？”

他饶有兴趣地接过，又把椅子移到了她的面前。在她坐下之前，她补充道：

“我不习惯这个世界，你看，克拉伦登将军。我已经习惯了和一个总是真诚地告诉我他的想法的人一起生活，这样我总是可以判断我应该做什么。现在你会这样做吗？这是你能为我提供的最好的服务和恩惠。”

“相信这一点，我会的，”克拉伦登将军说。

“我不应该要求你用语言告诉我——这可能会损害你的礼貌；只让我看看，”海伦说着就坐下了。

将军一言不发地继续读下去，直到他提到海伦最初承诺要和科林伍德一家住在一起。他一边说，一边把那段话拿给她看，他不明白。相反，他一直明白，这已经是一个漫长的过程了。 安定斯坦利小姐和塞西莉亚夫人之间的一个承诺，即海伦结婚后应与塞西莉亚夫人住在一起。

“没有这样的事！”海伦说。 “从未达成过这样的协议。”

所以将军现在认为；但这是他的一个错误，他希望这不会影响她的安排，他说：“为什么要这样做？——除非斯坦利小姐在克拉伦登公园感到不高兴？”

他停了下来，海伦沉默了：然后，她下了绝望的决心，回答说：

“如果我确信你的愿望、你对我的感受——我会在这里感到非常高兴。”

“我的举止有没有可能，”他说，“可能会让斯坦利小姐感到痛苦？是什么让她产生了怀疑？”

“可能还有其他人离你更近，自然也更亲近你，”海伦说，天真地抬头看着他的脸——“你可能希望有一个人来代替我：——简而言之，你的妹妹，克拉伦登小姐。”

“塞西莉亚告诉你这件事了吗？”

“不，是达维南特夫人做的；自从我听到这句话以来，我就永远不会快乐——除非我知道你的感受，否则我永远不会快乐。”

他的态度立刻就变了。

“那么你就会知道我的感受了，”他说。 “在我认识你之前，海伦，我的愿望是，我的妹妹应该和我的妻子住在一起；现在我认识你了，我的愿望是你应该和我们住在一起。你会比我姐姐更适合塞西莉亚——更适合我们俩，因为你有同样的性格，而且举止更温柔。我已经以与你相同的坦率回答了你。现在，”他拉着她的手说道，“你知道塞西莉亚一直把你当作她的妹妹——请允许我也这样做：把我当作兄弟——这样你就会找到我。谢谢。这是一辈子的事了。”他补充道，挽着她的手臂，拿起她的信，领着她朝图书馆走去。

但她的情绪，因为被压抑而变得更加强烈，太强烈了，无法再次出现在同伴中：当他们穿过大厅时，她从他的手臂中抽回了自己的手臂，并转过脸去，她的声音足以恳求他表现出来她写给——

他懂了。她跑上楼，回到自己的房间，很高兴独自一人。她感到一阵喜悦。

“塞西莉亚丈夫的兄弟！——兄弟！”

这个词有一种神奇的魅力，她情不自禁地重复了一遍——她哭得像个孩子。塞西莉亚夫人很快就飞了进来，充满喜悦和喜爱，责备和惊奇交替出现，以最快的速度。 “很高兴，事情已经解决了，并且永远解决了！我亲爱的海伦！但你怎么会想到离开我们呢，你这个邪恶的海伦！出色地！现在你知道克拉伦登到底是什么了吧！但是，亲爱的，当我听到这一切时，我感到非常害怕。你现在是，而且曾经是，懦弱与勇气最奇怪的混合体。我——你知道我吗，勇敢的 I- 从来不应该建议 - 从来不应该像你一样冒险？但他对这一切感到高兴，我也很高兴，现在一切都如此迷人地结束了，现在我保证你安全了。我会写信给科林伍德一家；你不会有片刻的痛苦；我会解决这一切，并在他们离开英国之前邀请他们来这里；克拉伦登希望我会——哦，他是！——现在你会相信我的！科林伍德一家也会很高兴被邀请到这里来告别你，一切都会好起来的；亲爱的海伦，我和你一样喜欢当我快乐时每个人都应该感到高兴。”

当达维南特夫人听到所发生的一切时，她并没有表现出海伦所期待的那种立即而纯粹的喜悦；她的眉头阴云密布，似乎有一种关于她女儿的痛苦向她袭来，因为她的眼睛盯着塞西莉亚，她的情绪在她的脸上清晰可见。但当她转向海伦时，她感到了纯粹的快乐，并对她给予了不同寻常的、无条件的认可。

“我亲爱的海伦，我钦佩你朴实直率的真理；我对你的第一篇文章感到满意，因为你的意志力和勇气。”

“勇气！”海伦微笑着说道。

“这并不需要抓住狮子的胡须，或抓住公牛的角，”达文南特夫人回答道。 “但是这个世界上有很多人，尽管他们很勇敢，但他们宁愿长出一头狮子，宁可抓住一头公牛，也不愿在陷入困境时敢于直接提出问题，并坦白地讲述什么都在自己的脑海中掠过。相信我，道德勇气在男女中都是罕见的，但在世界各地，道德勇气对于男人和女人的美德同样重要。”

“但是你真的认为，”海伦说，“心灵的力量，或者你所谓的道德勇气，对女人和男人一样重要吗？”

“当然，请向我展示一种美德，无论是男性还是女性——如果美德承认语法上的区别，如果美德承认更有价值的性别和不那么值得语法的性别，那么请向我展示一种美德，男性还是女性， 能够 长期存在而没有真理。即使是强调我们性别的美德，海伦，社会幸福依赖于它，社会依赖于它的基础是什么？难道真理不是基于一心一意的美德吗？——而真理又是基于什么？靠的是心灵的勇气。敢于说真话的人，永远不敢犯无可挽回的错误。那么，除了懦弱之外，谎言还能算什么呢？——还有一个虚伪的女人！——这不是一言以蔽之吗？

“但是这一切从何而来呢？也许你想知道，”达维南特夫人说。 “而且我不想解释。达维南特勋爵来了。现在谈谈政治——告别道德，一场漫长的告别。现在是伦敦预算，以及“君士坦丁堡有什么消息？”大维齐尔肯定是被勒死的，不是吗？”

伦敦的新闻预算现已开放，并由达维南特勋爵进行了审查，其中包括内阁中的争吵以及所有因担心变革而困扰政客的事情。但不同年龄段的恐惧和希望依附在如此不同的主题上，海伦听到这一切，就像她没有听到一样，继续画着，摸着，修饰着，头也不抬，直到她的注意力被唤醒。名叫格兰维尔·博克勒克（Granville Beauclerc）；这是写那些有趣信件的人的名字，她在达维南特夫人的文件夹中见过这些信件。 “他在城里做什么？”将军问道。

“我想是在自娱自乐，”达文南特勋爵回答道。

“我相信他忘记了我是他的监护人，”将军说。

“我相信他不会忘记你是他的朋友，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “因为他有世界上最好的心。”

“对于任何有用的东西来说，都是最糟糕的头脑，”将军说。

“他是一个天才，”达文南特夫人说。

“大人，您有跟他谈过代表郡县的事吗？”将军追问。

“是的。”

“他说了什么？”

“他不会与这件事有任何关系。”

“为什么？”

“他谈到了不与党派挂钩的问题，还有一些关于爱国主义的问题，”达文南勋爵回答道。

“废话！”将军说：“他是个傻瓜。”

“只是年轻，”达维南特夫人说，

“现在的男人在两岁和二十岁的时候已经不那么年轻了，”将军说。

达维南特夫人说：“对有些人来说，古典风格、政治美德的浪漫，在他们离开大学后仍会持续数月，甚至数年；即使是像格兰维尔这样在伦敦过上流生活的人，有时也不会在一两个季节里失去最初的爱国主义热情。”

将军的嘴唇紧闭。达维南特勋爵靠在安乐椅上，重复道：“爱国主义！是的，每一个有才华的年轻人都容易出现这样的症状。”

“亲爱的勋爵，”达维南特夫人喊道，“在所有人中，你居然把爱国主义说成是一种病！”

“我担心，这种疾病一生只能得一次，”她的主人笑着回答道。 “然而，”仿佛相信他笑的那件事，“它在大多数人的文字中消失了，无论是书面的还是口头的，一直持续到第一本小册子出版，或者直到议会的首次演讲公平地发表，公平地发表”为所有可敬的人付出了一切荣誉。”

达文南特夫人忽略了这些讽刺性的评论，有些突然地问达文南特勋爵是否还记得已​​故的温德姆先生。

“当然，他不是一个容易被遗忘的人：但特别是什么呢？”

“他的思想天平太精细了，”达文南特夫人说，“为了共同的目的而调整得太好了；钻石秤不适用于称量羊毛。温德姆、伯克、培根等非常文雅、非常聪明、非常哲学的人，都是过于谨慎的权衡者。它们的鳞片转动了百万分之一格令，而所有这些都源于同一个原因，都有同样的缺陷：优柔寡断。他们太清楚问题的双方都可以说些什么。有一种哲学上的怀疑，是由于理解力的扩大而产生的，它与由于意志薄弱而导致的性格优柔寡断截然不同。我观察到，”达维南特夫人继续说道，“在一些过于谨慎的称重者中，一旦达到平衡，他们就会变得非常任性；你将会看到，对于博克勒克来说，情况也是如此。在过度犹豫之后，你可能会看到他立即开始采取鲁莽的行动。”

“错误的鲁莽，正确的坚决，”达文南特勋爵说。

“他本质上是任性的，但形而上学上却摇摆不定，”达文南特夫人说。

将军等到形而上学结束后，对达文南勋爵说，他怀疑博克勒克拒绝进入议会不仅仅是因为缺乏野心。有些话在这里海伦听不见，将军开始在房间里走来走去，脚步如此有力，每走一步，海伦坐的桌子上的瓷器都会摇晃，所以她失去了接下来的大部分内容，然而，这似乎很有趣，关于一些贝尔特拉弗勋爵和一位圣伯爵夫人——某事，或者一位布兰奇夫人——某人。

达维南特夫人显得焦急，将军的脚步变得更加谨慎，更加坚定。直到塞西莉亚女士走到他面前，俏皮地挽住他的手臂，脚步才放慢了脚步，当一只抚慰的手搭在他的肩膀上时，紧闭的嘴唇放松了——她低声说话——他大声回答。

“无论如何！我的爱人，你亲自写信给他；让他下来，他就会安全；他不能拒绝你。”

“那么星期二？”如果将军批准的话，她会指定最早的日期。

他赞同她说的每一句话； “周二就这样吧。”跟着他走到门口，塞西莉亚女士又说了些什么，似乎让他感到很满足。 “永远善良，”他说。 “那就这样吧。

“那我给你妹妹写信，还是你呢？”

“你，”将军说，“让你的善意发自内心吧，就像往常一样。”

塞西莉亚夫人在写字台前一会，就以最快的速度写下两张纸条，塞到母亲手里，母亲点头表示赞同。塞西莉亚把它们留给自己密封并盖章，然后带着海伦冲到露台上，去看她正在设计的意大利花园。

当她走的时候，当她站着指挥工人们时，每当她的指示结束时，她都会对海伦说话。她说她很高兴她决定博克勒克立即来找他们。他是她最喜欢的人。

“不是因为我母亲在他身上看到的那些我不太清楚的宏伟品质。但只是因为他是本质上最讨人喜欢的人；而且非常自然；他虽然是个世故之人，却也丝毫不受影响。当然，相当时尚，但又充满真实的感觉。哦！他很令人愉快，只是——”然后她打断自己，给工人们指点她的意大利花园——

“夹竹桃在那张床的中间；靠近栏杆的花瓶——”

“博克勒克的品味非常好，他还有一个美丽的地方——桑代尔。他会非常富有。现在很少有非常富有的年轻人会和蔼可亲，女人太宠坏他们了。——[“在床边放一些漂亮的东西。”]——但他仍然是，我很想知道你会怎么想他；你会怎么想？我知道他会怎么想，但是，我不会再说了；人们在这个世界上，当他们说出自己的想法时，总是会陷入困境。-[“那个喷泉看起来很漂亮。”]-我忘了告诉你他很英俊。将军非常喜欢他，他也喜欢将军，除非他把他视为自己的监护人，因为格兰维尔·博克勒克并不特别喜欢被控制——谁喜欢呢？这是一个奇怪的故事。——[“打开那些花瓶的包装，完成后我就会回来。”]——跟我一起转一圈，海伦，这边走。这是一个奇怪的故事：格兰维尔·博克勒克的父亲——但我并不完全了解，我只知道他是一个非常奇怪的人，离开了将军，尽管他比他年轻得多，成为格兰维尔的监护人，并定居下来他还没有成年，我的意思是，直到他五岁和二十岁之前，他都不能拥有他的大片庄园：对可怜的格兰维尔极其严厉，足以让他讨厌克拉伦登，但他没有，而且那很迷人，这就是我喜欢他的原因之一！总是令人惊讶地尊重他的监护人，考虑到他是多么的浮躁，令人惊讶地尊重，尽管我不能说我认为他就是园艺书籍上所说的那样 刀的病人，我认为他不喜欢自己的幻想被剥夺；但他又那么聪明。博克勒克更像是一个读书人，而不是一般人，在大学里表现出色，而这一切通常会让年轻人自负，但博克勒克只是有点任性——更令人愉快的是，它让人心烦意乱；人们永远不知道它会如何结束，但我相信现在一切都会顺利进行。同样奇怪的是，我相信，当他在伊顿公​​学时，妈妈也认识他——我不知道是怎么认识的，但早在我们听说克拉伦登之前，她就和他通信过，但直到他来之前我从来不认识他。就在我和将军把一切都解决之后，就到了佛罗伦萨。他在巴黎和我们在一起，并和我们一起回家，我喜欢他。现在你知道了一切，除了我不想告诉你的，所以回到工人们那里——‘那个花瓶在那里不行，把它移到这些常青树前面;这样就可以了。’”

然后回到海伦——“毕竟，我做得对，而且我很高兴我在邀请埃丝特的时候想到了，现在博克勒克先生来了——将军的妹妹——同父异母的妹妹。哎哟，真不像他啊！如果不是因为克拉伦登小姐的骄傲，你绝不会猜到她是他的妹妹。但她却与其他人如此不同；她一无所知，也不想了解这个世界。她总是住在威尔士的一座古老城堡里，兰——这是她从母亲那里继承来的，她一直是自己的情妇，和她姨妈在那里忧郁而富丽堂皇地生活在一起，直到她哥哥把她带到佛罗伦萨，在那里——哦，她多么不合时宜啊！过来，我会告诉你更多。事实上，我不太喜欢克拉伦登小姐，我会告诉你原因——我会向你描述她。”

“不，不，不要，”海伦说。 “不要，亲爱的塞西莉亚，我会告诉你原因。”

“为什么为什么？”塞西莉亚喊道。 “你还记得我叔叔给我们讲过的关于年轻新娘和她的老朋友的故事，以及一些建议吗？”

不，塞西莉亚不记得任何事情。她应该很高兴听到这个轶事，但至于建议，她讨厌建议。

“不过，如果你知道是谁给的——那是一个非常伟大的人给的。”

“一个非常伟大的人！现在你让我很好奇。嗯，那是什么？”塞西莉亚女士说。

“结婚后一年内，她不会告诉她的朋友她对丈夫的任何亲戚的看法，即使是不利的，因为她很可能会在更好地了解他们后改变这种看法，然后很抱歉告诉她第一次仓促的判断。很久以后，这位女士告诉她的朋友，她一生的幸福很大程度上归功于这个建议，因为在这一年中，她确实彻底改变了她对丈夫家人的最初看法，并且会如果她说出了她的第一个想法，我一定会非常后悔！”

塞西莉亚听了，说道：“太好了！出色的！但我对克拉伦登小姐没什么可说的，只是她对我们生活的世界来说太善良了——太真诚了。例如，在巴黎，有一天，一位迷人的法国女人用最精彩的方式讲述了当天的一件轶事。有趣的方式。埃丝特·克拉伦登一直站在一旁，表情严肃，漆黑如夜，最后在故事的结尾转向我们的魔术师，说道：“你所说的一切，没有一句是真的！”想象一下，在完整的沙龙里！法国人感到非常惊讶。 '不可思议！'当她带着悲剧女王的气质走开时，他们很可能会对我说； “不可思议——mais，不可思议的衣服；” 和 ‘Bien Anglaise’’ 毫无疑问，如果我不在场的话，他们肯定会补充道。”

“但肯定有什么特殊的原因，”海伦说。

“我相信，世界上没有，只有这个故事不是真的。还有一次，当她和她的表弟莱尔公爵夫人一起在莱尔皇家酒店，并准备在下一季与公爵夫人一起去伦敦外出时，一天早上，就在他们出发之前，她下来了并宣称自从她到了城里以来，她听到了如此多的丑闻，以及伦敦社会如此令人震惊的事情，以至于她决定不与公爵夫人出去，根本不去城里？太荒唐了——太正经了！”

海伦对此感到有些同情，本来想这么说，但塞西莉亚继续说道——

“然后预计格兰维尔·博克勒克——应该——”

说到这里，塞西莉亚停了下来，海伦感到好奇，又为自己的好奇心感到羞愧。她转过身去，扶起一些灌木的枝条，这些枝条因花朵的重量而下垂。

“我知道一些事情 具有 ”塞西莉亚说。 “一场比赛正在酝酿之中——你明白我的意思吗，海伦？”

“你的意思是博克勒克先生要娶克拉伦登小姐，”海伦被迫开口说道。

“我只是说已经想到了，”塞西莉亚女士回答道。 “也就是说，每对夫妇都以这种方式考虑一切，但不在禁止的范围内，包括祖母。女人越朴素，她就越有把握为自己考虑这些事情，以免别人替她想到这些事情。但是，我亲爱的海伦，如果你想问——”

“哦，我不想问任何事，”海伦喊道。

“但是，无论你问与否，我都必须告诉你，将军太骄傲了，甚至对他自己也不敢承认他可以；想想有哪个男人不是先向他的妹妹求婚的。”

停顿了几分钟。

“但是，”塞西莉亚夫人继续说道，“为了克拉伦登的缘故，我不得不请她来这里，当我知道这会让他高兴时；她是非常值得尊敬的，所以如果可以的话，我想让她爱我！但我不认为她现在来这里会更接近博克勒克先生的观点，如果这是她的观点的话。格兰维尔有眼睛也有耳朵，对比会很明显。我知道我希望谁来打他，就像她打我一样——而且我想——我希望——”

海伦看上去很苦恼。

“我像鸽子一样天真，”塞西莉亚女士追问。 “但我想即使是鸽子也可能有自己私人的小想法和愿望。”

海伦确信塞西莉亚的本意是善意的，但她对说出的一些话感到抱歉。她意识到自己对博克勒克先生的那些信很感兴趣。但现在她脑子里已经有了一个特殊的想法，她再也不能说，再也不能感觉到，这样的想法并没有出现在她的脑海里。她非常抱歉；她的头脑里的新鲜感、纯真感似乎已经消失了。她也很遗憾，因为她听到了塞西莉亚所说的关于克拉伦登小姐的一切。看来她实际上注定会因为妹妹的事情而与将军发生一些麻烦。她感觉自己好像又被抛回了怀疑的海洋，而且她不清楚自己是否可以通过反对来结束它们。

在指定的星期二，晚间，克拉伦登小姐到达了。海伦观察到，她的身材很好，但不够优雅，从她猛地转身离开塞西莉亚夫人的怀抱，转向她哥哥的一条大狗的那一刻起——“啊，老海王星！我很高兴你还在这里。”

当塞西莉亚女士放下他的爪子时——“别管他，别管他，亲爱的、诚实的老家伙。”

“但是亲爱的、诚实的老家伙的爪子是湿的，会毁掉你漂亮的新皮衣的。”

“它可能是新的，但你知道它并不漂亮，”克拉伦登小姐说，当海王星跳起来，爪子搭在她的肩膀上时，她继续拍着海王星的头。

“噢，我亲爱的埃丝特，你怎么能忍受他呢？他的爱情太粗暴了！”

“比起光滑，我更喜欢粗糙的东西。”粗糙的爪子卡住了她的蕾丝褶边，在“下来！”之前就被撕成了碎片。向下！”塞西莉亚女士和海伦的共同努力可以摆脱它。这毫无意义。可怜的海王星，他看起来真是太遗憾了——那里，那里，再摇一下你的尾巴吧——没有人会妨碍我们两个老朋友。”

她哥哥进来了，她猛地一惊，双臂搂住他的脖子，帽子也向后落下，海伦原本还以为她很朴素，现在却惊讶地发现，她的脸色涨了起来，里面充满了生机。她的眼睛，真的很漂亮。

当塞西莉亚对她说话时，那种表情又消失了：无论她说什么，克拉伦登小姐都不同意；如果是品味问题，她总是持相反的意见。如果叙述或断言，她会质疑、怀疑，似乎无法相信。她的谈话，如果可以称之为谈话的话，就是无休无止的反驳和责备，尤其是和她的嫂子。如果塞西莉亚夫人只是说有三个而不是四个，就会被认为是“一个很大的错误”，并且不仅被标记为一个错误，而且被标记为“不真实”。每一个最轻微的错误都成为对威严的犯罪，第一天结束时，海伦认为她真的是她见过的最令人讨厌、最难以忍受的人。

第二天的情况就更糟了。海伦认为塞西莉亚太费心去取悦她，并说最好让她一个人呆着。海伦完全做到了，但克拉伦登小姐并没有放过海伦；海伦笑着说，“哦，我的话不值得你衡量。”

“是的，是的，让我安心。”

似乎解决这个问题的第一件事是海伦不同意塞西莉亚对两条丝带颜色的看法，海伦说她不能恭维她，两条丝带是很般配的。下一个是关于克拉伦登小姐的一幅画，兰西兰，她在威尔士的地方；这确实是一幅美丽的图画，是她为她哥哥带来的，但其中一座塔肯定是不垂直的。海伦被上诉，也不能说这是正直的；克拉伦登小姐立即拿起一把刀，把画框后面的纸剪开，然后拿出图纸，把塔摆正。

“说实话是有用的。”

“听它，”海伦说。

“我们会继续相处的，我明白了，斯坦利小姐，如果你能克服我内心的第一个痛苦；——坚硬的外表，难以破解——可能会弄脏脆弱的手指，”她继续说，一边把画放回原处。它的框架——“可能会在开口处弄脏纤细的手指，但你会发现它是一颗上好的核桃，用一粒盐拿走。”

许多谷物似乎是必要的，而且非常有力的胡桃夹子需要在非常有力的手中。塞西莉亚女士虽然用力，但显然力量不够。海伦不想尝试。

塞西莉亚邀请克拉伦登小姐出去看看她哥哥所做的一些改变。当他们经过新的意大利花园时，克拉伦登小姐问道：“这是什么？——不喜欢这个——我对古老的英国花园和高高的山毛榉树篱感到多么遗憾。我想，这里的一切都要改变——请不要询问我对任何改变的意见。”

“我并不奇怪，”塞西莉亚说，“你应该更喜欢那个古老的花园，因为它有你所有的早期联想；热心、和蔼可亲的人，一定总是那么喜欢他们童年时所喜爱的东西。”

“我小时候没来过这里，也不是你们这些可亲的人。”

“确实如此，”海伦想。

“斯坦利小姐看着我，就好像我有七个头一样。”克拉伦登小姐笑着说道。一分钟后，当海伦继续前行时，她追上了她，表情十分丰富，并补充道：“请承认你认为我是个野蛮人。”海伦没有否认，从那一刻起，克拉伦登小姐看她的眼神不再那么凶恶了：她笑着说：“你会发现，我并不像我看起来那样是一只熊；我是一只熊。”至少我不会把人抱死。我的咆哮比我的咬合更糟糕，除非有人应该奉承我经典的熊市热情，并主动提出用蜂蜜喂我，而当我发现一切都是梳子而没有蜂蜜时，谁不会咆哮呢？

这时塞西莉亚夫人走了过来，指出了将军所持的观点。 “是的，很好，他做得很好，但请不要对我客气。我可以一个人走，你可以让我自己思考，因为我最喜欢这样。”

“当然可以，随你喜欢。”塞西莉亚女士说。 “请考虑一下你自己，因为你知道你在这里，就像在家里一样。”

“不，我在这里永远不会感到自在，”埃丝特说。

“哦！别这么说，让我希望——让我希望——”说完她就退出了。海伦只是留下来为克拉伦登小姐“进一步漫步”打开大门，当她打开门时，她听到克拉伦登小姐叹了口气，重复着这个词：“希望！我不喜欢抱希望，希望常常欺骗我。”

“在塞西莉亚，你永远不会被欺骗，”海伦说。

“保重——留下来直到你尝试为止。”

“我已经尽力了，”海伦说，“我认识她。”

“多久？”

“从小！”

“你还没有脱离童年呢。”

“我已经不那么年轻了。我经历过我的朋友们的考验，尤其是塞西莉亚，比你所能经历的要多得多。”

“嗯，这是我听过的关于她的最好的事情，而且也是来自权威人士；她在国外的朋友都是假的，”克拉伦登小姐说。

“这真是太不寻常了，”海伦说，“听到像你这样的年轻人这么说话——

“又怎样？”

“有假朋友——你一定很不幸。”

“请原谅我——非常幸运——及时发现了他们。”她看着这个前景，喜欢她哥哥所做的一切，但不喜欢她甚至猜测塞西莉亚女士所做的一切。海伦向她表明，她到处猜错了，并对她的偏见微笑。克拉伦登小姐再次微笑，承认自己有偏见，“但每个人都是如此；”只有一些人表现和讲述，另一些人则微笑和撒谎。我希望“fib”这个词从英语中消失，善意的谎言也随之消失。一切都有其正确的名称，我们都应该做得更好。无论同意与否，都必须说出真相。”

海伦说：“但凡是让真理变得令人不快的人，就是对美德的叛国罪。”

“那是你的吗？”克拉伦登小姐突然停下来喊道。

“不，”海伦说。 “无论是谁说的都很棒。”

“我是从我叔叔斯坦利那里听到的，”海伦说。

“那个叔叔一定是个优秀的人。”

“我现在就离开你了，”海伦说。

“是啊，我想我们迟早会喜欢彼此的，斯坦利小姐；随着时间的推移，——我讨厌突然的友谊。”

那天晚上，克拉伦登小姐更多地询问了海伦她与塞西莉亚的友谊，以及她是如何与塞西莉亚住在一起的。海伦坦白地告诉她。

“那这不是你们之间最初的约定？”

“一点也不，”海伦说。

“塞西莉亚女士告诉我是的。就像她一样——我一直都知道这是一个谎言。”

海伦对这个词和这个想法感到震惊和惊讶，惊呼道：“哦！克拉伦登小姐，你怎么能这么说呢？任何人都可能会错。塞西莉亚误以为——”塞西莉亚大人此时也加入了他们。克拉伦登小姐的脸涨得通红。 “这个房间热得令人难以忍受。每年这个时候生火有什么用呢？”

塞西莉亚说这是给她母亲的，她晚上容易感冒；当她说话的时候，她在通红的脸颊和火之间放了一道屏障。克拉伦登小姐把它推开，说道：“我不能说话，我听不到，我无法理解面前的屏幕。当我们吃完晚饭出来时，塞西莉亚女士，你对达维南特女士说了什么关于博克勒克先生的事？

“我们明天期待他。”

“你写信的时候并没有告诉我！”

“不是，亲爱的。”

“为什么要祈祷？”

“我不知道。”

“你不知道，塞西莉亚女士！人们明明很清楚，为什么还要说他们不知道呢？”

“如果我认为这对你有什么影响的话，艾丝特，”塞西莉亚一脸弓着脸说道——

“现在你希望我回答说这对我来说并不是最不重要的——这就是你会做出的答案；但我的回答是，这对我来说很重要，你也知道。”

“如果我这么做了呢？”

“如果你这样做了，为什么要说‘如果我认为这对你有任何影响的话？’——为什么这么说？请如实地回答我。”

“老实回答我！”塞西莉亚女士笑着重复道。 “哦，亲爱的艾丝特，我们不是在法庭上。”

“也不是在荣誉法庭上，”克拉伦登小姐追问。

“好吧！至少让它成为一个爱情法庭吧。”塞西莉亚女士说道。 “海伦，前几天我们在那本古老的英国谚语书中看到了一句多么漂亮的谚语——‘爱不需要剑就统治着他的王国。’”

“很可能;但说实话，”克拉伦登小姐说，“您预计博克勒克先生什么时候来？”

“明天。”

“那我明天就去！”

“我亲爱的艾丝特，为什么？”

“你知道为什么;你知道哪些报道已被传播；为此类报告提供任何依据都不符合我和我兄弟的性格。让我按一下门铃，我会下达我自己的命令。”

“我亲爱的埃丝特，但是你的兄弟会非常烦恼——非常惊讶。”

“我的兄弟最能判断自己的行为，他会做他喜欢做的事，或者你喜欢做的事。我是我的判断者，我当然会做我认为正确的事情。”

她按了电话，吩咐她的马车早上六点就到门口。

“不，我亲爱的艾丝特，”塞西莉亚坚持道，“我希望你不要这么突然做出决定；我们很高兴你能来找我们——”

“高兴的！为什么你知道-”

“我知道，”塞西莉亚女士打断了她的话，脸色红了，她开始尽快地提出她能想到的每一个论点来说服克拉伦登小姐。但她或将军的任何争论、恳求，无论是公开的还是私下的，都没有任何效果——她愿意去，而且她在六点钟就去了。

“我想，”海伦对达维南特夫人说，“克拉伦登小姐非常值得尊敬，而且她似乎也很聪明：但我想知道，尽管她有这么多的能力，她却没有学会让自己的举止变得更令人愉快。”

“亲爱的，”达维南特夫人说，“我们必须接受人们本来的样子；你可以把一朵玫瑰嫁接到一棵橡树上，但是那些尝试过这个实验的人告诉我们，这种嫁接只会持续很短的时间，而且手术最终会导致两者的毁灭；如果股票没有共同的性质，就会出现缺乏整合的情况，这迟早会对双方造成致命的影响。”

但是博克勒克，他怎么了？——那天过去了，博克勒克却不见踪影。又一封又一封来了，到了第三天，只收到了他的一封信，这封信本应该在星期二收到的。——但是“太晚了”，上面写着可耻的拖延症——而且只在折叠处写了几行字，说他周二不可能在克拉伦登公园，但如果可能的话，会在周三或周四。

善良的达文南勋爵观察到，“当伦敦的一个年轻人写信给他在乡下的朋友时，指定了离开城镇的两天，并加上了‘如果可能的话’在两个人中最后一个被点名之前，他的朋友们永远不要指望他会来。”

这两天的最后一天到来了——星期四。副官询问博克勒克先生今天是否会来。 “是的，我希望今天能见到他，”将军回答道。

“我希望，但不要期待，”达文南特夫人说，“因为，正如学术界权威告诉我的那样，‘期待就是希望有某种程度的确定性’——”

将军离开房间时重复道：“我期待他今天来，塞西莉亚。”

然而，白天过去了，他却没有来——夜晚来临了。将军命门常开，仆役起坐。仆人整夜没睡，咒骂着博克勒克先生。早上，他恶意地迅速回答了主人提出的第一个问题：“不，先生，博克勒克先生没有来。”

早餐时，将军默默地在面包上涂了黄油几分钟后，承认他喜欢守时。这可能是一种军事偏见；——这可能太专业了，也许是严格的——但他仍然承认自己确实喜欢守时。他认为这是礼貌的一部分，是对他人的方便和感受的适当关注；人们通常认为这是陌生人之间不可或缺的，而他不知道为什么亲密的朋友应该认为自己有幸放弃它。

说完这句话，他的目光与海伦的目光相遇，微笑着称赞她一贯的准时。对于一位女士来说，这是一种自愿的优雅，但对于一个男人——而且是一个年轻人来说，这是一项必须履行的义务。

“我看将军，您很喜欢这个年轻人，”达文南勋爵说道。

“但这不是他的错。”

塞西莉亚女士说了一些关于原谅第一次过错的话。

“绝不！”达维南特夫人说道。 “科林伍德勋爵的规则是——永远不要原谅第一次的错误，这样你就不会再犯第二次了。我明白了，正如达维南特勋爵所说，你爱博克勒克。”

“爱他！”将军继续说道； “尽管他有很多缺点和愚蠢，但我爱他，就像他是我的兄弟一样。”

说到这里，塞西莉亚大人脸上带着不易察觉的笑容，偷偷看了海伦一眼。

将军叫来了他的马匹，然后在他的副官的跟随下离开了，并说他应该在午餐时间回来，当时他希望找到博克勒克。出于同样的希望，达维南特夫人比平常更早地订购了她的小马车。塞西莉亚夫人还真诚地希望博克勒克今天能来，因为第二天家里就会挤满了人，她真的希望有一天至少能有他一个人，她意味深长地看了海伦一眼。

“第一步往往能确保游戏能够对抗最优秀的玩家，”她说。

海伦脸红了，因为她情不自禁地明白了；她对塞西莉亚感到羞愧和恼怒，但又为她的善良感到高兴，并为她拱形的表情和语气感到有点好笑。

他们俩都不知道达维南特夫人听到了那句话，或者看到了他们的表情；但不久之后，当他们离开早餐室时，达维南特夫人走到两个朋友中间，把手放在女儿的手臂上，说道：

“在危险的游戏中采取任何行动之前，请听听旧经验的声音。”

塞西莉亚女士吃了一惊，抬起头，但似乎没听懂。

“亲爱的，丘比特之弓，”她母亲继续说道，“正如亚洲人告诉我们的那样，上面挂满了蜜蜂，这些蜜蜂很容易蜇伤那些干预它的人，有时甚至致命。”

塞西莉亚大人依旧一脸天真无邪的神情，依旧一副无法理解的样子。

“那么，说得更直白一点吧，塞西莉亚，”她母亲说，“不要建造空中楼阁；要建造空中楼阁。”它们站立或倒下都会造成危害——要么对建造者，要么对那些为之建造它们的人造成危害。”

“当然，如果他们跌倒了，他们会让人失望，”塞西莉亚女士说，“但如果他们站起来呢？”

达文南特夫人见自己没有给女儿留下什么印象，便转向海伦，严肃地说道：

“我亲爱的海伦，不要让我的女儿激发你虚假的、也许是徒劳的想象，这肯定是不成熟的，因此是不恰当的。”

海伦身子一缩，但又立刻抬起头来，一脸的感激之色。

“但是，妈妈，”塞西莉亚女士说，“我声明我不明白这一切是怎么回事。”

“关于格兰维尔·博克勒克先生，”她母亲说。

“亲爱的妈妈，你怎么能这么发音他的名字？ 吹捧长？=

“请原谅我的无礼，亲爱的；精致是好事，但真相更好。我看到许多年轻女性的幸福被这种虚假的温柔所牺牲，并因害怕给予暂时的痛苦而牺牲，而有时真正的朋友有责任给予这种痛苦。”

“当然，当然，妈妈，只是现在没必要了；我很抱歉你对可怜的亲爱的海伦说了这一切。”

“如果你什么也没对她说，塞西莉亚，我承认我说得太多了。”

“我说过——我什么也没做，”塞西莉亚女士喊道。 “我没有建造任何城堡——我一生中从未建造过一座普通的城堡；我一生中从来没有一个固定的计划；从来没有提到过他的名字，除了另一个人——”

然而海伦的外表却很吸引人 抗议.

“至少据我所知，”塞西莉亚女士立即补充道。

“海伦似乎因为你失忆而脸红了，塞西莉亚。”

“我确信我不知道你为什么脸红，海伦。我确信我从来没有明确地说过一个字。”

“不 明显地 当然，”海伦低声说道。 “如果我理解的话，那是我的错——”

“你总是真的，”达文南特女士说。

“我抗议我说的都是实话，”塞西莉亚女士急忙喊道。

“但这不是全部事实，塞西莉亚，”她的母亲说。

“我做到了，我发誓了，妈妈，”塞西莉亚女士坚持道，重复了一遍“我发誓了”。

“说实话，塞西莉亚！这要么是粗俗的咒骂，要么是最严重的断言。”

她说话的语气很严肃，神色也很严厉，海伦不敢抬眼。塞西莉亚女士现在脸色变深了。

“耻辱！大自然的良知，”达文南特女士说。 “愿上天保佑它！”

“噢，妈妈！” ”塞西莉亚夫人叫道，把手放在母亲的手上，“你肯定没有认真思考过——你肯定没有生气——我不忍心看到你不高兴。她的手。没有返回压力；那只手慢慢地、冷静地收回了，她母亲沿着走廊走回自己的房间。塞西莉亚女士一动不动地站着，泪水夺眶而出。

“我亲爱的朋友，我非常抱歉，”海伦说。她不敢相信塞西莉亚的意思是说不真实的话，但她觉得自己应该责怪自己没有说出全部，而她的母亲则说得太多。

塞西莉亚女士泪流满面，站在那里看着她母亲的图章戒指在她手掌上留下的印记。在那一刻，我想起了那枚戒指的座右铭是“真理”，这是一个令人不愉快的回忆。她擦掉手上的印记，一半自言自语，一半对海伦说道——我确信没有什么比我一生中从未制定过定期计划更真实的了。毕竟，我确信已经说了这么多，我什么也不懂：当妈妈继续那样做时，我从来没有这样做过，她总是对我这样做，从那以后一直这样做。我曾经是小孩;但她真的忘记了我不是小孩子。现在，还好将军不在身边；他绝不会忍受看到自己的妻子受到这样的对待。但对于全世界来说，我不会成为任何分歧的根源。哦！海伦，我妈妈不知道我有多爱她，让她对我这么严厉吧！但她从来没有爱过我；她从来没有爱过我。她情不自禁。我相信她尽了最大的努力来爱我——我可怜的、亲爱的母亲！”

海伦抓住这个机会，重复了最近从达维南特夫人那里听到的那些温暖的话语，这些话语融化在塞西莉亚的心里。她一次又一次地亲吻海伦，把她当作亲爱的、善良的和事佬，一如既往——而且“我下定了决心”——但在她下定决心的过程中，她透过公园的玻璃门瞥见了将军和一匹好马响起，她匆匆出去：她心情轻松，仿佛

“或者摇动柔软的 吹球 从她的茎上。”

自从达维南特勋爵到来之后，达维南特夫人的时间都被他占据了，以至于海伦没有太多的机会与她交谈，而她更加渴望抓住每一次发生的事情。她总是留意达维南特夫人驾着她的小马车出去的时候，因为那时她就很高兴地独自一人，马车上只载着两个人。

就在门口，达维南特夫人正穿过大厅，海伦跟在后面，这时塞西莉亚进来了，她的表情很不寻常，显得很沮丧。

“博克勒克先生又推迟了！他今天不会在这里。我放弃他了。”

达维南特夫人突然停了下来，问塞西莉亚是否告诉他她可能很快就会离开？

“我当然做到了，妈妈。”

“那么他拖延的理由是什么？”

“没有，妈妈，没有——连道歉都没有。他确实非常傲慢地说，他是世界上最不擅长找借口的人——他不会尝试任何借口。”

“他是对的，”达文南特夫人说。 “正如富兰克林公正地指出的那样，那些善于找借口的人往往在其他方面一事无成。”

将军此时走上台阶，手指间卷着一张纸条，一脸不悦。达维南特夫人询问他是否可以告诉她博克勒克先生迟到的原因。他不能。

塞西莉亚女士惊叹道：“太了不起了！挑衅！难以忍受！难以忍受！”

“这是博克勒克先生自己的事，”达文南特夫人一边说，一边用围巾裹住自己。她挽着将军的手臂，走上马车。她坐下来，收起缰绳，重复道——“先生。”完全是博克勒克自己的事。”

她的鞭子被什么地方缠住了，当马夫解开它时，她重申了——“那就行了：让马走吧：”——带着半压抑的不耐烦感谢海伦，她正在努力安排一些坏事——处理掉斗篷——“谢谢你，谢谢你，亲爱的：一切都很好。坐下吧，海伦。”

她迅速开走，穿过美丽的公园风景，但古老的橡树孤零零地矗立着，投下巨大的阴影，远处的大片树林规模宏大，树叶柔软多样；僻静的空地，一切都在她身上消失了。她直视马耳间，默默地继续前行。

海伦对博克勒克先生的重要性的认识奇妙地增强了。他的到来或不到来能够如此感动整个世界，或者那些对她来说就是整个世界的人，他一定是什么样的人？而且，让她自己思考，她正在想象他可能是一个什么样的人，突然达维南特夫人转过身来，问她在想什么？

“亲爱的，请原谅我让你这么吃惊；我知道这是一个极其轻率、无礼的问题——事实上，我很少问这个问题。很少有人对我有足够的兴趣，让我关心他们的想法：更少我能指望听到真相。不——没有什么是强迫的，海伦。如果您不愿意告诉我，请直接说出来。我应该更喜欢这个答案，而不是巧妙的回避公式，形而上学中的苏莱克主义，塞西莉亚在前几天无意中问她在想什么时使用了这个公式——“妈妈，在很多不同的事情上。”

海伦对达维南特夫人的讲话比对她的问题更感到震惊，她知道从她的回答中可能得出的结论，但她勇敢地回答说，她一直在想博克勒克先生，想他可能会来或不来。造成了这样的后果。说话间，达维南特女士的脸色变了。

“谢谢你，我亲爱的孩子，你就是真理本身，因此我真的爱你。幸好你没有问我在想什么，因为我不确定我是否可以如此直接地回答。”

“但我绝不会冒昧地问你这样的问题，”海伦说，“这两者是有区别的。”

“是的，”达维南特夫人回答道。 “虽然年龄和权力要求有所不同，但这并不完全符合友谊的平等权利。你已经告诉了我你的白日梦的主题，亲爱的，如果你愿意的话，我也会告诉你我的白日梦的主题。我沉浸在很久以前的时光中：我再次经历了一些早期的场景——其中一些场景是相关的，并且以一种奇怪的方式将我与这个年轻人格兰维尔·博克勒克先生联系起来。

她说话似乎有些困难，但又没有决心继续说下去。 “海伦，我有一个想法，”她继续说道，“告诉你，用受影响的自传作家的语言，我可以称之为‘我生命中的一些段落’。”

海伦的眼睛一亮，急切地向她道谢：但听到一声半压抑的叹息，她又补充道——“如果这对你来说很痛苦的话就不会了，我亲爱的达维南特夫人。”

“一定很痛苦，”她回答道，“但也许对你有用；软弱的朋友只能做令人愉快的事情。你常常信任我，把那些内心深处的小感受告诉我，无论这些感受多么纯真，我们都不敢向任何人透露，除了我们最爱的朋友；对于那些年事已高的人来说，期望年轻人能够获得自信，而且只对他们有利，这是不公正和荒谬的：人的心，无论在什么年龄，都只会向回报的心敞开。”

达文南特夫人又停顿了一下，然后说道：“大家普遍认为，没有人比别人更适合接受建议。”

“我确信我不这么认为，”海伦说。

“我很高兴你不这样做；我也不这么认为。很大程度上取决于它提供的方式。至少对于年轻人来说，从经验中得出的一般格言，但作为评论——道德句子——只是一纸空文，无法抓住人心。 “我感觉”必须出现在“我认为”之前，尤其是在与一位年轻朋友交谈时，尽管有人指责我太喜欢概括而从不谈及细节，但我可以而且愿意：因此，亲爱的，我会告诉你我生活中的一些细节，请注意，其中没有冒险。我的生活充满激情——至少是感觉——而不是事件：亲爱的，没有什么可以激发或满足好奇心。”

“但是，除了对事件的所有好奇之外，”海伦说，“人们对了解我们所认识和所爱的人在前世的真实感受和想法非常感兴趣。”

“我会深深地敬佩你，”达文南特夫人说道，“就这样吧。”

“我不需要像大多数人那样以‘我出生了’开始——”但是，她打断了自己的话，“这种高温对我来说太难受了。”

他们拐进一条穿过树林的长长的阴凉车道。达维南特夫人拉起缰绳，她的小马在青草路上缓缓行走。然后，她转向海伦说：

“当我像你这个年纪的时候，如果有朋友让我警惕自己的内心，那对我来说是件好事：但是我过于纵容、过于乐观的母亲，让我陷入了她本应防范的危险之中。”警告我——她误导了我，尽管她没有意识到。我们的思想、我们的本性有着奇怪的差异。

“她是一位城堡建造者——是的，现在你知道了，亲爱的，为什么我今天早上说话如此强烈，而且正如你所想的那样严厉。我的母亲是一位普通的城堡建造者：一座城堡的世俗计划是她的，她很少关心里面的骑士；但她有足够的机智知道这一定是那个人的主意。 前骑士 这会引诱她的女儿进入城堡。对她自己谨慎，对我轻率，但她却爱我——她所做的一切都是为了爱我。她的讲话如此之多，以至于我不怀疑我会成为任何猜测的对象，否则，我的想象力可能会反抗，我的自我意志会挣扎，我的骄傲会干涉，或者我的脆弱可能会受到惊吓，但一切都没有发生；我已经做好准备，太高兴了，无法相信我被告知的一切，以及在那个充满希望和爱的春天里出现的一切。我很浪漫，但不是现代时尚小姐意义上的浪漫，而是混合了牧羊女的帽子和贵族女性的随身物品——小屋里的爱情，和城里时髦的房子。不;我的爱情是诚实的、纯洁的、真正浪漫的——如果你愿意的话，这很荒谬；这是由想象而不是希望所孕育的爱。我很早就在我秘密的灵魂中拥有了一种完美的模式，也许你此时此刻也有一种完美的模式——某种骑士精神、高贵的东西，这种东西现在已不再可见——想象得更令人愉快，道德崇高、美丽；超越人类，却又充满人类的温柔。我的丈夫是一个我可以崇拜的半神，一个我可以永远仰望的丈夫，一个我可以永远同情的丈夫，一个我可以像一个女人那样奉献自己的丈夫。那时我有一个伟大的想法——就像我想你现在也有的，海伦——自我奉献；你愿意为你的朋友奉献自己，但我无法将我的任何一个朋友塑造成一个合适的对象。于是，我根据自己的想象，制作了一个，沉思于它，痴迷于它，最后把我自己想象中的这个明亮的形象完全投向了我认为最幸福的命中注定的人——由责任注定，由感情选择。 “我爱你”这句话一旦说出，我就付出了我的全部心作为回报，付出了它，正如我所感受到的，通过宗教神圣化了它。我有很高的宗教感情；一旦发誓，一个眼神，一个祈求上天的眼神，对我来说就像是在祭坛上宣读的，在成千上万的见证人面前。距离庆祝我们的婚礼还有一段时间。拖延时间是不明智的，但我不应该这么说；这给了我时间睁开我的眼睛——我那双被迷惑的眼睛：尽管如此，我还是在宣福的恍惚中度过了几个月，想象着所有的职责都履行了——普遍的仁慈、感激之情、巨大的成功，以及我的英雄的桂冠，因为他是军人；这一切都符合我的想象。所有描绘伟大英雄事迹的故事都属于他。活着，我要生活在他的荣耀的光辉之中；或者死亡，与他一起死去，然后得到最大的祝福。

“现在这一切对我来说就像一场梦，早已过去，从未被诉说；不，永远不会，除了对有权知道这一点的人来说——我的丈夫，现在对你来说，海伦。我从梦中被一种粗鲁的震惊惊醒——我看到，我首先感谢上天，我独自一人，看到他的心已经离我而去——他的心从来不属于我——它配不上我。不，我不会这么说；我不会这么认为。我仍然相信他欺骗了自己，尽管他欺骗的程度还不如他欺骗我。我愿意相信他并不知道他对我所宣称的并不是爱，直到他被对另一个人的热情所占据，一个更年轻、更美丽的人——哦！多么公平。美貌是上天的伟大恩赐——不是为了女性的虚荣心；而是为了女性的虚荣心。对于爱着并希望被爱的人来说，这是一份很棒的礼物。但我没有美丽。”

“没有！”海伦打断道，“我总是听到——”

“He 亲爱的，我不这么认为；不管别人怎么想，至少我当时是这么觉得的。我的身份发生了很大的变化，现在我可以回顾这一切，平静地告诉你。

“那是在排练古代音乐时；一天早上，我无意中去了那里，没有带我的母亲，而是和一位老公爵夫人和她的女儿们在一起。太后满屋都是她准备买的印度屏风；女儿们，其中一个故意挑衅两名歌手之间的争吵；另一个则基于她自己的爱与恨。我是聚会中唯一真正对音乐有品味的人。当时我就特别喜欢它。

“好吧，亲爱的，我必须说到重点了，”她说话时声音发生了变化。——“经过这么长时间，我的思想、我的整个自我发生了如此大的变化，在我开始之前我简直不敢相信谈到这个话题，这些回忆竟然让我如此感动；但这只是长期休眠的思想的突然苏醒，多年来没有被唤起，也没有用语言表达出来。

“当我看到他进来时，我正坐在那儿，沉浸在一种无声的狂喜之中，向后靠在窃窃私语的聚会后面，一心想着他会分享我的喜悦，我努力引起他的注意，但他没有看到我——他的眼睛盯着另一个人；我顺着那只眼睛，看到了它所注视的那个最美丽的生物；我看到他坐在她旁边——一个眼神就足够了——这是信念。我感到一阵剧痛；我浑身发冷，但没有发出任何声音，也没有做出任何动作。我相信我气喘吁吁，但我并没有晕倒。没有人关心我；我没有被注意到——免遭怜悯的屈辱。我努力保持自我控制，最终完成了我当时的目标——甚至 然后， 解决。这个决心给了我力量。

“在任何伟大的情感中，我们可以更好地与那些不关心我们的人交谈，而不是与那些同情我们的人交谈。我比现在对你说话更加平静，我转向当时坐在我旁边的人，转向心系印度屏风的太后，恳求我不要再拘留她，因为我希望她能带我回家——她爽快地答应了：只要我们能在不引起注意的情况下移动，我就有足够的镇定力。幸亏那个女人在回家的路上一直在说话。她从未见过，也从未怀疑过她说话的对象所承受的痛苦。我跑到自己的房间，锁上门，然后一屁股坐在椅子上。这是我记得的最后一件事，直到我发现自己躺在地板上，从一种麻木不仁的状态中醒来。我不知道已经过去了多少时间；所以我一有机会就按铃叫我的女仆。她敲了敲我的门，以为我睡着了，并没有打扰我——我发现我的母亲还没有回来。

“我穿好衣服去吃晚饭：他要和我们一起吃饭。我的习惯是在公司其他人到达之前先见他几分钟。对我来说，没有什么时间比那天我穿好衣服和他到来之间的间隔更可怕了。

“我听到他上楼的声音：我的心跳得如此剧烈，以至于我担心自己无法有尊严和镇静地说话，但动机已经足够了。

“我说的话我不知道；我唯一确定的是，他没有一句责备的话。 我第一眼看到的预感是真的——他承认了。 我解除了他对我的一切束缚。 我看到他显然因我拒绝的坚决语气而松了口气——我的心付出了多大的代价，他才获得了自由，他没有看到——从来不知道——从来没有怀疑过。 但在第一次不由自主地表达出如释重负的喜悦之后，我在他的脸上看到了惊讶，一种对我的镇定感到羞愧的惊讶。 我拥有我女人的骄傲，我很享受这个；这是比骄傲更好的东西——维护我的尊严的感觉。 我觉得，在我的幸福遭遇不幸时，我并没有怯懦地表露自己的感情，但他并不理解我。 我现在发现，我们的思想在不同的轨道上移动。 我们无法理解彼此。 他并没有像慷慨的本能那样认为我正在为了他的幸福而牺牲自己的幸福，而是告诉我，他现在相信我从未爱过他。 我的眼睛睁开了——我立刻看到了他的本来面目。 吝啬的人将自我奉献视为疯狂、愚蠢或艺术：他不可能认为我是个傻瓜，他不认为我疯了，我相信他确实怀疑我是个狡猾的人；他得出的结论是，我发现他的反复无常是我自己的反复无常的借口。他认为我也许比反复无常更有趣，因为我们的订婚还不为人所知，在此期间，一位更高级别的情人出现了。 我对这种卑鄙怀疑的认识此刻对我很有用，因为它唤醒了我的精神，我经历了更好的过程，并且没有复发温柔，与我所做的一样。 我只提出了一个条件：我坚持认为这个解释应该由我们两人共同承担。事实上，从方式上来说，中断比赛应该完全由我来决定。 现在，我满意地回顾这件事，我真诚地自豪地告诉你们，你们也会对我有同样的感觉，我在整个事件的处理过程中没有任何形式的欺骗，没有任何谎言。被告知。 世界一无所知；在那里，我母亲一直很谨慎。 她是唯一一个我必须向她解释的人——我是说，因为我觉得自己没有义务解释。 只有完美的信心才能在任何生活关系中获得完美的信心。 我告诉她一切，她有权利知道。 我向她宣布，预定的婚姻永远不可能——我反对；我们俩的想法都改变了；我们都对彼此从相互的交往中解脱出来感到满意。 正如我预见的那样，我必须忍受母亲的愤怒、她的恳求、她无尽的惊讶、她痛苦的失望；但她已经耗尽了所有这些，她的心思比我预想的更快地转向了更高的地位的希望，这让她在伦敦的那个赛季剩下的时间里感到高兴。 还剩下两个月——对我来说，这是我一生中最痛苦的两个月。 每天，每晚，努力出现在公众面前，而我却如此不幸，在年轻人、快乐者、幸福者中间的盛大的生活中——尽管我感到心碎——但这是一种超出我力量的努力。 我记得那年夏天酷热难耐。

“我的母亲确实让我做了太多可怕的事情。但我责怪别人，就像我们在自己最应该受到责备时通常所做的那样——我尝试过做不到的事。通过压抑所有外在的痛苦迹象，不允许用言语或眼泪来发泄悲伤——通过实际的压力——我想立即消除我的感情。当我想到这一点时，我对人心知之甚少！弱者在第一次冲击面前屈服是明智的。他们不会被击倒在地上，而是会倒下；如果没有抵抗，悲伤就没有什么力量。——“肉体将追随钳子撕裂的地方。”我的行为是自以为是的——这几乎是一场致命的挣扎。伦敦的那个季节终于结束了，我们进入了乡村。我期待休息，但没有找到。由于迫切需要努力，刺激也停止了，我陷入了一种冷漠的状态。从我婚姻破裂到患上这种疾病，已经过去了足够长的时间，足以阻止我母亲对因果关系产生任何想法，事实上，这些想法从来没有被太多人寻找过，也没有很好地融入到她的脑海中。世人对此事一无所知。我的病被归为“神经质”这个方便的名称。我听到了对我的案子发表的所有意见，并且知道他们都是错误的，但我吞下了他们喜欢的一切。我反复对自己说，没有一个医生能够“治愈心灵有病的人”。

“我试图求助于宗教；但那时我的宗教情感与我早年性格的热情交织在一起。如果我是天主教徒，我就会逃离我的朋友，躲进修道院；事实上，我已经形成了一种强烈的愿望，要从那个对我来说不再有任何意义的世界退休：激情的源泉，当时我认为它是生命的源泉，被打破了，我躺在床上，秘密地、永久地沉思着我的决心。在我的床上。他们常常读给我听，除其他外，还读一些《漫步者》的文章，但我一点也不喜欢。它的三脚架句子让我听腻了，但我让它们继续下去——声音一个接一个。

“有一天晚上，当我准备睡觉时，有人给我读了《漫步者》中的一个东方故事，讲的是一个厌倦了世界的人，来到了宁静的隐修院。它的结尾有一个我讨厌的常规道德标签，它是这样的：“凡是讨上帝喜悦的生活，都是对人类无用的。”那天半夜我醒来的时候，这句话就在我眼前，在我快要睡着的时候，这句话仿佛在我耳边一遍又一遍地重复着。这个印象一直留在我的脑海里，虽然我从来没有自愿地再次想起它，但很久以后，它就出来了，完全新鲜，并成为行动的动机。

“心灵和身体之间奇怪而神秘的联系；在纯粹的动物本性中，我们也看到了同样的情况。小鸟从睡梦中醒来，有人教他在黑暗中唱一首曲子，然后又继续睡觉——这个印象埋藏在他的内心，几周后，他带着完美的曲子出来了。但这些只是记忆中的现象——我的记忆现象更为非凡。我不确定是否可以向您解释。在我虚弱的状态下，我的理解力和我的身体一样衰弱，我的理智比我的记忆力更弱，我不禁让自己认为那句话的不断重复是上头向我发出的警告。随着我变得更坚强，迷信逐渐消失，但这种感觉仍然存在于我身边。这引发了我的审视和反思。这比我母亲所有的恳求都有效。我曾拒绝见任何人类，但现在我同意接纳一些人类。魅力被打破了。我放弃了对孤独的渴望，放弃了远离尘世的计划；我允许自己被带到他们喜欢的地方——布莱顿——让我母亲满意。我已经准备好在下一次伦敦活动开幕时出现在时尚界。我自然而然地像以前一样优雅地“进行我的女性练习”。我有追随者和建议；但我的母亲再次陷入绝望，因为她所说的我与仰慕者的短暂合作，几乎没有给他们足够的时间让他们变成情人，我就警告他们不要想起我。我听说，女人因男人的反复无常而受苦之后，就会用自己所承受的痛苦来报复自己，并以一切残酷的卖弄风情为乐。我的情况并非如此。我的伤口太深了——皮破了——不是冷酷无情的，我害怕伤口再次裂开的危险。也许，我的情人更多，因为我不关心他们。直到他们中间出现了一个人，据我所知，他欣赏我的性格，而且据我所知，他对我产生了浓厚的兴趣。为了防止他的幸福受到威胁，因为他不会接受其他警告，我向他透露了我的想法。无论这个坦白多么侮辱人，我都认为这是他的功劳。我告诉他，我没有心去付出——我没有收到任何与我分手的回报，而我的爱情已经结束了。

“‘作为一种激情，可能是这样，而不是作为一种感情，’他回答道。

“这些话让我了解了他的性格。我还看到，他的爱随着他的尊重而增长，他的理解力越来越坚定，他的本性也越来越高尚。他在我的心灵中越走越深，直到他来到了一股感激之泉，这股感激之泉升腾而满溢，使看似贫瘠的荒原变得生机勃勃、肥沃起来。我相信，在第一次巨大的不幸之后，人们永远不会恢复到以前的样子，但我知道这一点——亲爱的海伦，你应该相信这一点很重要——心灵，虽受重创，仍能恢复力量。我的意思是，一颗被良好原则所支撑的心灵，并通过这些原则而能够为自己的康复而坚持不懈的努力。随着时间的推移——观察一下，我说的是及时的——它可能肯定会恢复健康的基调。

“时间是由那种高贵的人给予我的，他以一种我无法回报的热情将自己奉献给了我——但是，带着我所能给予的感情，而且他向我保证这种感情将使他幸福，我决定把我未来的全部奉献给他。我想，我的幸福已经消失了，除非我能让他幸福。

“我嫁给了达维南特勋爵——这完全违背了我母亲的意愿，因为他当时是三个兄弟中的弟弟，并且只拥有弟弟的一小部分。如果这是一场更精彩的比赛，我想我是不会被说服同意的。我无法确定自己的动机，或者更确切地说，我的骄傲无法清楚地了解其他人可能形成的观点。这是一个弱点，因为我们做事应该靠自己，而不是寻求别人的赞扬或指责；但我让你看到我现在的样子，或者以前的样子：我并不像伊丽莎白女王那样坚持让我的肖像没有阴影。”

“我很自豪地告诉你，在我结婚的时候，我们非常贫穷，我不得不放弃许多我有权享受的奢侈品，而且我已经习惯了这些奢侈品，如果没有它们，我就无法做任何事。”直到那时我才意识到可能性。我们整个机构的规模非常简陋。

“回顾我生命中的这段时期，我感到非常满意。像所有性情乐观、性情慷慨的年轻人一样，我感到非常高兴，因为我意识到自己有能力做出牺牲。这个观念就是我的偶像，我心灵最深处的偶像，我用身体和灵魂的全部能量来崇拜它。

“几年后，我丈夫的两个哥哥去世了。如果你有好奇心想知道怎么做，我会告诉你，尽管事实上，这与人们在历史中讲述的一半事情一样没有达到目的。最年长的，一个土生土长的贵族，从他松开母亲的围裙带的那一刻起，他就陷入了愚蠢，然后，为了显示自己的男子气概，陷入了罪恶，在一场关于某个女士的弯曲拇指的决斗中失去了生命，或者心思更歪了。

“二哥在海军中表现出色；他死于荣誉；他光荣地倒下了，他的国家为他感到荣耀，他的国家为他哀悼。

“这个年轻人死后，遗产就归我丈夫所有。不久之后，财富如潮水般涌向我们，并随着抵押品的流动而不断膨胀。

“你会想知道这种情况的变化对我的思想产生了什么影响，据我自己所知，你会的。我想这不会有什么结果，因为我以前已经习惯了财富的所有装饰；然而，它确实给我的感情带来了比你想象的更大的变化，或者我能想到的变化。在社会上产生巨大影响、发挥杰出作用、获得令我满意的显赫地位的可能性，迄今为止我还从未实现过。名誉的香气在我附近飘荡，但不是对我自己——我是说在我丈夫附近，但不是对他；我从名声大噪中听到了他哥哥的名字，我渴望听到他自己的名字。我知道，他在民事事务上的伟大才能，如果付诸行动，可能会使他成为一位杰出的政治家，甚至超越他的英雄兄弟，但我知道他的野心，如果它曾经觉醒的话，这对当时的世界来说是未知的，必须被爱所唤醒。意识到我的影响力，我决心最大限度地利用它。

达维南特勋爵当时还没有参与任何政治，但他可以从他的关系中询问并获得；世界上有一个人，我渴望得到他的一份重要的恩惠。碰巧的是，我曾向你提到过的他是我反复无常的情人，现在嫁给了我可爱的情敌，此时他正为出国指挥而遇到一些困难。他的关系虽然级别很高，但现在却没有掌权。他之前委托给他的一些军事功绩失败了。他急于找回自己的性格。他的信誉，他一生的全部命运，都取决于他获得这一任命，而应我的要求，达文南勋爵为他提供了这一任命。我想，获得它的那一天是我一生中最自豪的一天。我以以德报怨为荣；如果骄傲可以是基督徒的话，那就是基督徒的骄傲。我很自豪地表明，我身上没有被蔑视的女人的愤怒，也没有被鄙视的魅力所带来的伤害。

“但这还没有完全成功；我内心的胜利让我感到痛苦，因为我的丈夫不得不使用中间力量来获得我本应由他自己获得的东西。为什么他不应该处于统治的首位呢？他可以用坚定的手、公正的眼睛来保持平衡。除非他在同侪中出类拔萃，否则我对他进入上议院并不感到满意。我迫切希望看到达维南特勋爵获得这一荣誉。我当时以所有使野心成为美德的动机敦促他前进。他厌恶公共生活，部分是因为懒惰的脾气，部分是因为健全的哲学：在他对人类幸福的估计中，权力的尺度很低；他看到任何个人对公共事业的真正贡献是微乎其微的。他觉得几乎不值得从家庭幸福的安乐椅上站起来。然而，爱催促着他，激励着他，即使不是野心勃勃，至少是在公共场合看起来如此。他进入了名单，并在政治比赛中成功倾斜。许多人都感到惊讶，因为在他们与他进行比武之前，他们对他的体重或他的武器技巧一无所知。许多人严重倾向于相信达文南特勋爵只是伪装的达文南特夫人，他所说、所写和所做的一切都归功于我。嫉妒通过将优点从一个人转移到另一个人身上来不断地满足自己。为了减少实际数量，她试图表明那不是真实的人，而是其他做善事的人。这种愚蠢、卑鄙的倾向可能会让我付出高昂的代价，会让我失去我丈夫的感情，如果他不是一个男人的话，因为很少有人嫉妒女性的影响力或女性的才华；总之，他知道自己的优越性，不需要通过测量自己来证明自己的身高。他很满足，甚至很高兴，因为每个人都把他视为一个平凡的人物。他非但没有嫉妒妻子对他的统治，反而对这个想法感到好笑：这满足了他的自尊心，也方便了他的懒惰。这也很符合他独特的幽默感。我越退，越被提出，他在我身后笑着，提示又禁止我回头。

“现在，海伦，我已经到了野心不再是美德的地步。但我为什么要告诉你这一切呢？没有人会因为另一个人的经历而变得更好。”

“哦！我简直不敢相信，”海伦喊道。 “祈祷，祈祷继续。”

“雄心首先从另一种激情的灰烬中升起。不同种类的新鲜材料改变了颜色，改变了火焰的性质：我应该告诉你，但叙事不是我的强项——我从来不记得以正确的顺序讲述事情。我忘了告诉你，当斯塔尔夫人的书《法国革命》出版时，它给我留下了非凡的印象。首先，像每个人一样，我急切地转向有关英国的章节，但是，尽管我的民族感情得到了满足，但我的女性自尊心却因她对英国女士的评价而受到极大的羞辱；事实上，她无法评判他们。他们害怕她。他们不愿从自己的外壳中走出来。她所谓的胆怯，我相信她渴望称之为愚蠢，是出于敬畏的钦佩的沉默，或者是好奇心和谨慎的混合。那些冒险的人，要么没有完全掌握自己的力量，要么匆忙地把他们引向了错误的方向。她没有看到他们处于自然状态。她断言，尽管英国可能有杰出的女性作家，但没有任何一位女士能够在社会中产生巨大的对话和政治影响力。 旧政权，是在法国通过他们所谓的 马奎特斯女士，如Madame de Tencin、Madame du Defand、Mademoiselle de l'Espinasse。这句话刺痛了我的心，为了我的国家和我自己，在我心中激起了一种愚蠢的、虚荣的模仿，一种目标错误的野心，不适合我们国家的礼仪、家庭习惯和公共美德。我应该对她的观察感到满意，因为在英国，像以前在法国一样，在部长局里永远不会见到一位女士；但是，在英国，在法国，在公务局里，从来没有遇到过一位女士。在英国，从来没有任何例子表明妇女在公共事务中知道或至少告诉了应该保密的事情。在我们之间，我怀疑她在其中一些断言中有点错误。但无论如何，我决心证明她错了。我意识到我内心深处的东西比我所展现出来的还要多。我毫不怀疑我有口才，只要我有勇气表现出来。令人惊讶的是，这几段话对我产生了如此大的恶作剧效果。在伦敦，一本书驱逐另一本书，一种印象，无论多么深刻，都会被下一次沙子的震动所抹去；但当时我在乡下，因为对我来说不幸的是，达文南特勋爵被派往某个特殊的使馆。留下我的胡言乱语，我一有能力就开始聚集观众在我周围，以女性政治家的角色展示自己，我相信我同时有一个作为英国人的想法科琳娜.罗什福柯，一位灵巧的自爱解剖学家，说我们承认自己的小错误，是为了让世界相信我们没有大错误。但就我而言，我觉得有些小错误比大错误更难承认。例如，感情；这是一件如此微不足道、如此微不足道的事情，它不仅仅是一种犯罪，更是一种嘲笑：我相信我确实让自己变得完全可笑；我很高兴达维南特勋爵不在，它只持续了很短的时间。我们亲爱的好朋友杜蒙（你在佛罗伦萨认识杜蒙吗？）不忍心看到它；他对达维南特勋爵的尊重更加促使他在他回来之前使我不再抱有幻想，并让我恢复到我的自然形态。这种失望是相当粗鲁的。

“一天晚上，当我吸尽香火直到完全陶醉之后，当我的追随者离开后，我们单独在一起，我对他说，‘允许这就是在巴黎的称呼， 联合国大成功“。

杜蒙没有回答，只是站在我对面，用他特有的方式把玩着他的大鼻烟盒，慢慢地把鼻烟从一边摇到另一边。我知道这表明他陷入了某种巨大的困境，所以我问他在想什么。 “你的，”他说。 “那我呢？”他用他的法国口音重复了这两句话——

“新智慧如酒，醉人大脑，
对于虚弱的女性来说太强大了，无法维持。

“‘当着我的面？’我微笑着说道，因为我试图控制自己的脾气。

“‘比其他人在背后做的更好，’他说。

“'在我后面儿！'我说； '不可能的。'

“‘完全有可能，’他说，‘因为我可以证明你是否有足够的力量承受。’

“‘相当有力，’我说，并请他继续说。

“‘假设有人给你，’他说，‘仙女戒指可以让拥有者隐形，让他能够听到所说的一切，以及所有对他的想法，你会扔掉它，还是把它放在一边？在你的手指上吗？

“‘把它戴在我的手指上，’我回答道； “就在这一刻，真正的朋友胜过魔戒，我戴上了它。”

“‘你很勇敢，’他说，‘那么你就会听到我在竞争对手的沙龙里听到的台词，今晚最后一个向你吹香炉的人重复了一遍。’他重复了一段打油诗，开头是——

“告诉我，先生们，你们看到了吗？
那个喋喋不休的她，那个嘲笑的科琳娜？

“杜蒙为了我的利益而有勇气对我进行打击，但他无法留下来看看它的效果，这一次只剩下我一个人，不是我的胡言乱语，而是我的理性。这已经足够了。我被治愈了。对于我的耻辱，我唯一的安慰是，我光荣地遵守了杜蒙的忠告。那个写讽刺诗的朋友，从那天到现在，都不知道我听过它；虽然我必须承认，当他再次上香时，我常常渴望告诉他，我希望他能改变他的做法，让我们在我面前讽刺，并在我不在时保留奉承。矫揉造作的移植物本来只是一个可怜的弱东西，立刻就脱落了，但罪恶的根源还没有触及。我的朋友杜蒙砍得还不够深，或者也许是害怕砍掉太多对生活来说是合理和必不可少的东西：我的政治野心依然存在，达文南勋爵回来后，它又以饱满的活力蓬勃发展。

“现在一切都结束了，我可以分析和理解自己的动机：当我刚开始政治生涯时，我确实对权力没有任何热爱；充满了其他的感觉，我对此感到厌恶；这对我来说是绝对不愉快的；但是，就像人们在第一次吞咽时做鬼脸后就会对酒产生兴趣一样，我也从兴奋的经验中养成了这种精神上喝酒的习惯和爱好；此外，我还为自己找了许多令人愉快的借口：我不喜欢权力本身，权力从来不是为自己所用，而是为他人所用；永远充分发挥我旧有的牺牲原则：我对我的灵魂进行了这种奉承的涂油，它长期以来向我隐藏了它的弱点，它的逐渐腐败。

“我第一次利用我的影响力，并通过我丈夫的干预获得了某种重要的恩惠，所做的事情虽然实际上是通过私人恩惠获得的，但从公众的角度来看，做得很好，适合做;但是，当达文南特勋爵最终达到了我野心的顶峰时，当人们知道我有影响力时（在玩笑和真诚之间表现出这种影响，达文南特勋爵无疑是罪魁祸首），数字当然当人们渴望利用这一发现时，在正午光线中诞生的蜂群，或者诸如向初升的早晨致敬的蜂群，在我周围嗡嗡作响。我脾气很好，很高兴能提供这项服务，并自豪地表明我能做到这一点。我认为我至少有权利与达维南特勋爵分享赞助的荣誉和乐趣，所以他心甘情愿地允许这样做，只要我的对象是精心挑选的，尽管他有一次严肃地微笑着对我说”，“欧洲的赞助不会让你满意；你会想要印度，如果你拥有了印度，你就会为新世界而叹息。我只是笑了笑，说道：“和切斯特菲尔德勋爵的想法一样，只是表达得更简洁。” “如果把整个爱尔兰都给这样一个人作为他的遗产，他会要求马恩岛作为他的卷心菜花园。”达维南特勋爵没有笑。我感到有些惊慌，我们之间开始有一种疏远感。

“我记得有一天他在我的桌子上看到了我的一位朋友写的一张纸条 门生，非常感谢我，并赞扬我非常乐于助人的性格。他读完，把它扔到一边，半自言自语地重复着他那冷幽默的微笑，

而且她是如此乐于助人，以至于她从不帮忙。

“我以为这些诗句是在《女人性格》里的，我在其中寻找了所有的内容，但徒劳无功；最后，我发现他们的性格不适合我，我就平静下来了，而且，令人惊奇的是，我的良心也得到了安宁。

“一周后，我去向朋友提出一些请求：我的小男孩——因为那时我有一个可爱的小男孩——和妈妈一起进来了。达维南特勋爵答应了我的请求，但我不情愿地看到了，好像他觉得这是一个弱点；他把手放在卷发小家伙的头上，说道：“我明白了，这个男孩统治着希腊。”孩子被送去读希腊历史，他的父亲把他放在膝盖上，他读着这个轶事，当他结束时，他在孩子耳边低声说：“告诉妈妈这一定不是这样；”爸爸应该只受到正义的统治。他确实有公德，我只是说说而已。

“在此之后，你会想我是否还能继续下去，但我做到了。

“那时我有一个朋友，她说话总是最浪漫，做事却最自私，有一段时间我从来没有注意到她的言行不一致。事实上，她心里有两种思绪，两个自我，一个来自书本的浪漫，另一个来自世俗教育和对时尚以及这个世界的商品的热爱的自私。她有迷人的举止，我认为这对我来说毫无意义，但我发现她代表了一切。简而言之，她在小处处都像猫一样爱抚、优雅，但也像猫一样自私。她也有爪子，但一开始我只感觉到天鹅绒。

“为了这个女人，我冒着最高的幸福——我丈夫的尊重，以及可以想象到的最微不足道的东西。她想要一个小地方给某个要娶她最喜欢的女仆的男人。当我第一次向达维南特勋爵提起这件事时，他冷冷地说：“这是不可能的。”然后他的笔飞快地写着他正在写的信。我又懊恼又羞愧，因为羞耻而更加懊恼，但我还是坚持了下来。 '无法完成 me？我说。“不适合任何人，”他说——“至少对我而言。”——我想——海伦，我羞于告诉你我的想法；我想，我想告诉你我的想法。但我会告诉你，因为它会告诉你，一个人的思想会如何因对权力的热爱，或者更确切地说，因拥有权力所带来的后果而被堕落。我以为他的意思是向我指出，虽然他不会这样做，但我可能会这样做 把它做完。我仿佛自言自语地说：“那我就去找这样一个人；”那我就用这样那样的方式方法。

“他从写下的文字中抬起头来看着我，他的眼神是我以前从未见过的，他用一位著名部长的话说， “这是最方便的服务，也是最困难的资源。”

“我钦佩他，鄙视自己，离开房间，去告诉我的朋友，这绝对是不可能的。那一刻，她成了我的敌人，我感受到了她的利爪。我为这些伤口感到自豪，并把它们拿给我丈夫看。现在，海伦，你认为我已经永远痊愈了，而且很安全。唉!不，亲爱的，要根除习惯可没那么容易。不过，我有一些借口——让我提出来；我再次违背的人是我的母亲，我为她竭尽全力而感到自豪，因为我无法忘记，她已经准备好为了她的猜测而牺牲我的幸福。她不再建造空中楼阁，但她却在地上建造了自己。她经常在遇到困难时向我求助，我尽我所能提供资金，因为我从我最慷慨的主人那里得到了最慷慨的津贴。但我自己的计划，非常爱国但不过分明智，随着时间的推移耗尽了我的钱包。我在塞西尔赫斯特有一所学校，还有一家花边工厂；为了教我的小女儿们，我必须花费巨额费用从佛兰德斯带来花边制造商和莱尔线：我把我的花边制造商关在一个房间里（因为保密是必要的），在那里，他们像蜘蛛一样争吵互相争斗，结果全都失败了。

“另一个计划，也非常爱国，让我付出了巨大的代价：试图在英国制作印度羊绒，它们非常漂亮，但他们在我的私人钱包里没有留下十分之一便士，然后我的母亲想要几千块钱新乳制品；乳制品厂当时很流行，她的地板上铺着最好的荷兰瓷砖，配有塞夫尔瓷器，配有平板玻璃窗，门廊上挂着法国镜子。因此她让我向达文南勋爵陈述她非常痛苦的处境，并提交她要求领取养老金的请愿书。当我第一次提出母亲的要求时，达维南特勋爵说：“我确信，安妮，你不知道自己在要求什么。”我停止了。我确实不太了解这个生意，也根本不明白我是在协助一个为了私人目的而骗取公款的人，但我希望获得成功，我希望感受到自己的影响力。

“如果有人预言我会在政治权力的陶醉中忘记自己，我会如何蔑视这个预言——‘主啊，你的仆人是一条狗吗？他竟然会做出这样的事？’布莱尔关于这个主题有一篇精彩的布道；它很早就给我留下了深刻的印象。但是什么是好的印象、好的感觉、好的冲动、好的意图、好的任何事情，没有原则呢？

“我母亲想知道我怎么能轻易拒绝；她对我的影响力下降感到遗憾，这激起了我的骄傲。她的怜悯，近乎蔑视，伤害了我，我不经意间惊呼，我的影响力丝毫没有下降。我刚说出这句话，就看到他们向我提出的推论，即我没有最大限度地利用我的影响力来帮助她。我母亲很理智，只是感觉足以克制住这一点，没有用语言来标记这一点。她只是通过观察了一下才注意到这一点，然后叹了口气。她承认我一直都很友善，比她想象的要友善得多，所以她就不再再说了。这对我来说比她讲几个小时更能达到目的。我听到了新的叹息声，看到泪水开始流淌——母亲的叹息和泪水是很难承受的，我觉得这是可耻的，难以忍受。访客的到来让我有些融化，很困惑，也很匆忙，我匆忙承诺我会再次尝试我能做的事情。当我有时间反思时，我后悔了我的承诺。但这些话已经记不清了。向我丈夫谈论这件事对我来说是非常不舒服的，所以我想尽快把这件事从我的脑海中抹去，但是这一天过去了，我却找不到可以与达文南勋爵私下交谈的时刻。 。公司待到很晚，我妈妈最晚。临别时，她吻了我，称我为她最亲爱的安妮，她说她相信我可以对达文南勋爵做任何我想做的事，当她下楼时，她补充道，她确信她应该从我那里听到的第一句话早上就会‘胜利，胜利！’

“我恨自己承认了这个想法，但它就在那里；我让它进去了，却无法把它拿出来。我们在生命中最重要的时刻采取行动，是出于一种难以形容的微弱动机或冲动的混合，而且往往没有一个合理的原则。当我打开他房间的门时，我犹豫了，心里不祥地跳动着，但我觉得我不能退了，我还是进去了。

“他站在炉边，看上去很疲倦，但看到我时脸上露出了焕然一新的微笑，他伸出了手——‘永远是我的安慰，’他说。

“我握着他的手，犹豫了一下，又恢复了原来的样子；但我不会回去，也无法以任何序言开始。——谢天谢地，这是不可能的。我开始：-

“‘达维南特，我来请你帮忙，你必须帮我做。’

“亲爱的，我希望这是我的能力，”他说； “我相信你不会问——”他停了下来。

“我告诉他这在他的权力范围内，我不会为任何活着的生物要求它，但是——”他把手放在我的嘴唇上，告诉我他知道我要说什么，并恳求我不要说它;但我想开玩笑地把它拿走，吻了吻他的手，然后把它放在一边说：“我必须请求，你必须把这个交给我的母亲。”他回答说：“安妮，这不可能符合公共正义，也不符合我的公共职责。”我-'

“‘胡说，胡说，’我说，‘这样的话只是为了掩饰拒绝。’ 口罩我记得，这个词伤害了他。在我可以使用的所有方法中，这是最糟糕的：我一说出来就知道了。达维南特勋爵退后一步，眼神如此！你，海伦，只看到他慈祥的面容和微笑的眼睛，无法想象这一点。我确信他一定已经看到了这让我多么震惊，因为突然间一切都变了，我看到了爱的所有融化的柔软。

“噢，傻瓜！我真是个虚荣又邪恶的傻瓜！我想到了“胜利”，并追求它。我用尽了最大的说服力——言语——微笑——泪水，我尝试过——但徒劳无功；然后我不忍心觉得我对权力和爱的尝试是徒劳的。羞耻、骄傲和愤怒轮流抓住我，在我内心掀起了一场风暴——如此混乱——我不知道自己做了什么或说了什么。而且他还那么冷静！至少看起来是这样，尽管我确信他不是。他的镇定激怒了我，让我无法承受。我无法告诉你到底是怎么回事——这对我来说太有趣了，以至于我记不起确切的词了；但我记得最后听到他用一种我以前从未听过的声音说：“达维南特女士！”——他以前从未这样叫过我；他从来没有这样叫过我。他总是叫我“安妮”：似乎他已经把我从心里排除掉了。

“‘叫我安妮吧！哦，叫我安妮吧！

“他立即屈服了，他叫我安妮，并爱抚我，‘他的安妮’。” ‘哦，海伦！永远不要像我那样做。我低声说道：“那么，亲爱的，你会为我做这件事吗——为了我，你自己的安妮？”

“他轻轻地把我推开，靠在烟囱上，一声不吭。然后他转向我，压低声音说道：

“‘我爱你——爱你就像男人爱女人一样，我不会为你牺牲任何东西，除了——’

“'没有例外！'我假装高兴地喊道。

“‘除了荣誉，’他坚定地重复道。——海伦，亲爱的，你生性慷慨，我也是，但骄傲的恶魔在我内心，它让我渴望尝试我的力量。我失望了，变得卑鄙；永远，永远，无论多么受诱惑，无论多么愤怒，永远不要像我那样做，永远不要因为你为朋友做出的任何牺牲而责备他们；这种卑鄙行为你的朋友可能会原谅，但你永远无法原谅自己。

“我责怪他牺牲了我的感情，这是我嫁给他所做出的！他的回答是：我觉得你说的是真的，我现在确信你没有能力爱我；既然我不能让你幸福，我们最好——分手。”

“这是我听到的最后一句话。这次打击是完全出乎意料的。

“我不知道我是沉下去，还是扑倒在他脚下；但当我清醒过来时，他就站在我旁边。还有其他的面孔，但我的眼睛只看到他的：我感觉到他的手握着我的手，我按下它，然后说，“忘了吧。”他弯下腰​​，低声说道：“已经忘记了。”

“我相信，没有什么比受到完美慷慨的对待更能触动慷慨的心灵了——没有什么比让我们如此深刻地感受到自己的过错了。”

达维南特夫人在这里非常感动，无法再说什么。她不由自主地检查了缰绳，马匹停了下来，她继续沉默了几分钟：最后，两三声深深的叹息似乎让她松了口气。她抬起头，她的注意力似乎被一只小鸟吸引了，那只鸟在他们头顶的树枝上甜美地鸣叫。她问这是什么鸟？海伦把它拿给她看，它坐的地方：她抬起头，微笑着，用鞭子碰了一下马，然后继续她上次停下来的地方。我做好了准备，以为我现在已经在诚实中武装得如此坚强，可以很好地完成这件事：然而，我的道德有点紧张，被敲门声震动了，当我听到她的声音时当她朝我的房间走来，急切地问我是否独自一人时，我感到一阵恶心，因为我确信我必须立即粉碎她的希望。但我决心坚定；我的眼睛盯着她要进来的门。让我吃惊的是，她进来了，脸上洋溢着喜悦的光芒，她急忙向我走来，用最温暖的喜爱和感激的表情拥抱了我。——当我听到她谈论我的善良——我的慷慨时，我惊呆了。我问她是什么意思，她说肯定是有什么误会。但我眼前放着一张纸条，“这会不会有什么错误？”她说。那张纸条，因为我永远不会忘记，我会向你重复一遍。

“‘你希望的事情可以用比你提议的更好的方式来完成。公众必须不关心它；达维南特夫人一定很乐意按照自己的方式做这件事；所需金额的年金应按时支付给您的银行。当你收到这封信时，第一部分将在他手中。——DAVENANT。

当我从前对爱情的恍惚不再抱有幻想时，突然的震惊已经麻木了我所有的能力，几乎没有能力思考；但现在，当我从权力的谵妄中恢复过来时，我立即完全掌握了我的理解力，当我被迫理解我会如何卑鄙地利用我的影响力，或者我丈夫所拥有的影响力时，我是如此令我震惊的是，从那时起，我意识到，在谈到任何政治腐败时，我都夸大了我对它的自然厌恶。不是因为要让世界相信所有这些错误对我的灵魂来说是多么陌生，而是因为它确实对我的灵魂来说是陌生的，因为我知道它如何能够贬低最光荣的人物;我对这个罪犯和对这起罪行感到非常震惊，因为我曾经亲眼目睹过它的丑陋，离我如此之近。

“今年事工发生了变动，达文南勋爵的辞呈被送达并被接受，退休后我不仅有闲暇行善，也有闲暇修养心智。当然，我读过所有这些女士们读过的读物，但这与那种能让我跟上达文南勋爵和他消息灵通的朋友们步伐的研究有很大不同。他们中的许多人，更多的是有思想的人，而不是有表演的人，不时来这个国家拜访我们。尽管我在伦敦社交界、蓝界、红界、绿界、文学界、时尚界、政治界都过得很好，而且还被称赞为机智而明智，尤其是当我丈夫在位时；然而，当我与更高层次的思想近距离接触时，我发现了自己的不足。我特别认识到达文南勋爵的优越性在于他在推理中一致采取并坚持的坚实基础。当我过于自信，鲁莽冒险，常常发现自己被包围，在争吵中陷入迫在眉睫的危险时，他常常把我带下来，巧妙地掩护我的撤退，当我高兴地做出决定时，他看起来那么高兴，那么自豪。击中或跳出正确的结论。

“但我最喜欢、最钦佩的是，他从来没有凭借自己的学识、成就或我所谓的逻辑训练而取得胜利或获得不公平的优势。

“我提到这些看似琐事的原因是，在人生的重大时刻，慷慨的性情并不总是以我们最能感受到的方式表现出来。以这种方式表现出的慷慨小事，别人没有察觉，却深深地印在了我的脑海里。并且最能提高我对他性格的看法。那种我被超越而不是被低估的感觉让我更愿意承认并感受到自己的缺陷。我感受到了维鲁拉姆勋爵的一句格言的真实性，这句格言现在已经被记录下来了。 “知识就是力量”。有了这个显着的发现后，我开始竭尽全力去获取知识。你可能会微笑，认为这只是权力激情的一种新形式；不，这是更好的东西。无意冤枉我自己，我现在感受到了对知识的纯粹渴望，并享受着获得知识的纯粹快乐。受到高人的同情心的帮助、支持和喜悦。

“说到智力上的幸福，这是我一生中最幸福的时光。就好像我的眼睛被阿拉伯故事中你最喜欢的苦修士揉过一样，用这神奇的药膏，它立即打开，可以看到地球上所有的宝藏，我看到并渴望看到我眼前开放的无限宝藏。我现在想阅读达维南特勋爵正在阅读的所有内容，以便我可以遵循他的想法，但这不是一瞬间就能完成的。有一个法国女人抱怨她永远学不到任何东西，因为她找不到人用两个词教她所有她想知道的东西。我不完全是这样 苛刻的 正如这位女士；但是，在轻松快速地滑行之后，知识的肤浅程度已经远远超出了基础，要返回并从头开始是困难的，而且相当令人羞愧。然而，当我想更深入一点、真正了解我的意思时，这基本上是必要的。如果没有一个人的帮助，我不可能完成这一切，他向我展示了我可以安全地放弃所学的东西，并指出什么果实值得攀登，什么只会化为灰烬。

“我生命中这段幸福的时光过得太快了。然而，这一切被打断了，不是因为我自己的任何过失或愚蠢，而是因为上帝之手的惩罚，我相信我已经顺从地服从了上帝之手——我们失去了我们亲爱的小男孩；我的第二个儿子出生时就死了，我的分娩之后就是长期的、严重的疾病。我被命令去尝试一下德文郡的空气。

“一个晚上——现在，亲爱的，我把生命中唯一的浪漫事件留到了最后——一个晚上，一艘船在我们的海岸失事了；其中一位乘客，一位女士，一位病人，被带到我们家。我赶紧去帮助她——那是我美丽的对手！

“她的病情严重恶化，已经在里斯本呆了一段时间，但现在医生将她送回家，就像他们将人们从一个国家送往另一个国家等待死亡一样。她所在的船的船长误认为海岸上有灯光，于是把船开到了我们家附近的岸上。

“当然，我们为她做了一切我们能做的，但她快要死了：她对我的历史一无所知，我相信我在最后时刻安慰了她——她死在我的怀里。

“她有一个孩子，一个儿子，当时在伊顿公学：我们派人去接他；他来得太晚了；他所表现出的感觉让我们深感兴趣；我们把他留在我们身边一段时间；他很感激；后来他长大了，经常给我写信。他的信你已经读过。”

“先生。博克勒克！”海伦说。

“先生。博克勒克。——当克拉伦登将军将他介绍给我作为他在佛罗伦萨的监护人时，我已经有一段时间没有见到他了，在那里我有机会基本上为他服务。亲爱的，你现在可能明白了，为什么我原以为格兰维尔·博克勒克先生在我逗留英国的最后一个月可能更愿意来克拉伦登公园，而不是去伦敦的乐趣。我很生气，我承认，但经过五分钟的宽限后，我冷静下来，看到我一定是弄错了，并得出了老诗人的公正结论，没有人会立即陷入邪恶的深渊，我认为是忘恩负义如同病的深度一样。因此，我认为，有某种比友谊更强烈的感情现在正在阻止格兰维尔·博克勒克。在这种情况下，我原谅他，但是，为了他自己，对于这样一个年轻人，我应该说，为了社会——公共利益——因为他将在公共生活中结束，我希望目前的目标是值得的。他，无论她是谁。

“我还有什么要告诉你的吗？是的，我应该说，当达文南特勋爵再次掌权时，政治世界发生了变化，我学会了，如果不是要减少野心，至少要少表现出来。 D——，他总是知道如何把理智灌输到我的头脑中，所以我在那里找到了它，并认为它完全是我自己的，他曾经说过，“每个拥有一个有教养、高尚妻子的公众男人，事实上两个自我，每个人都为另一个人看守和监护。这个想法让我很高兴——既让我的想象力也让我的理性感到高兴。我就这么做了，达维南特勋爵向我保证，我对他来说已经是第二个自己了，我愿意相信这一点，首先因为他是一个严守真理的人，其次因为每个女人都愿意相信她所相信的。的愿望。”

达维南特夫人停顿了一下，沉思了几分钟后说道：“然而，我承认，我没有理由对自己作为一个母亲感到非常满意；我没有充分关注塞西莉亚的早期教育：她全神贯注于政治，我把她太多的事情留给了家庭女教师，一度非常糟糕。我已尽我所能来弥补这一点，而你也许做得更多；但我很担心早期的忽视永远无法完全修复；然而，她嫁给了一个有理智的男人，当我去俄罗斯时，我会满意地把你留给她。”

在表达了她对所听到的一切有多么感兴趣，以及她对人们对她的信任感到多么感激之后，海伦说她不禁希望塞西莉亚知道刚刚告诉她的达文南特夫人的所有历史。如果塞西莉亚能够知道母亲内心的全部温柔，她会少多少恐惧，多多爱她！

“这没有任何意义，”达文南特夫人回答道。 “有些人的性格存在内在差异，无论你如何解释，他们永远无法超越某一点来相互理解。自然和艺术不允许——你提供的任何眼镜都无法弥补某些视力缺陷。塞西莉亚尽其所能地了解了我的性格，而我也从最好的角度看到了她的全部性格。所以海伦，亲爱的，听听一句苏格兰谚语的建议吧——谚语很粗俗，因为它们通常包含常识——“别管它了。”

“你真的是一个非常好的小朋友，”她补充道，“但请保留我的个人叙述供你自己使用。”

他们到家时已经很晚了，海伦尽快穿好衣服，因为将军守时的习惯要求所有人至少在晚饭前五分钟到客厅集合。她正走下私人塔楼楼梯，这条楼梯从家庭公寓通向大厅，就在拐角处，以一种最尴尬的方式，她遇到了一位绅士，一个陌生人，在这里，她从未见过陌生人。她在前面，全速奔跑，所以他们几乎没有空间和时间来给对方让路。当然，他们请求原谅。陌生人的举止和声音都特别有绅士风度。一个仆人拿着他的旅行包跟在后面，询问博克勒克先生要去哪个房间？

“先生。博克勒克！”——当海伦到达客厅，发现连将军也不在那里时，她想她可以有时间跑上大楼梯到达文南夫人的房间，告诉她博克勒克先生来了。

“我亲爱的达维南特夫人，博克勒克先生！”——他在那儿！她以最快的速度撤退。关于他的谈论之多，以及他们偶然相遇的尴尬方式，让她在定期介绍他们时感到非常尴尬。

晚餐开始时，海伦觉得气氛异常安静和拘谨。或许情况确实如此，或许人们真的很饿，或许博克勒克先生还没有让将军和达文南夫人满意：然而，在晚餐快要结束时，在吃甜点时，他确实很有趣；塞西莉亚夫人似乎对他在离开伦敦之前看到的一部法国小作品《Les Premieres Amours》的描述感到特别好笑，海伦可能也会觉得好笑，但塞西莉亚夫人呼吁她听着，博克勒克先生把目光转向她，她看到，或者说他以为他已经被排除在故事里了，虽然他继续保持着完美的良好教养，但显然精神已经衰退了。在故事结束时，出于礼貌，她为了减轻他和她自己的负担，转向另一边的副官，把全部注意力都集中在或者似乎是集中在他身上。他总是让她感到厌烦，但现在比以往任何时候都更令人厌烦。一旦开始，他就继续谈论他的马和狗，而她在与她分离后几乎立即感到羞愧，听说博克勒克先生恢复了他语气的活力和精神，并且充满了愉快的心情。与塞西莉亚女士交谈的乐趣。时不时会有一些非常有趣的事情引起她的注意。但是，当她的眼睛盯着必要的方向时，由于副官永无休止的乏味，她不可能弄清楚这一点。她以为晚饭后的坐着永远不会结束，尽管实际上比平时要短得多。

他们一到达客厅，塞西莉亚夫人就问母亲格兰维尔迟到城里的原因是什么，为什么他今天来了，在他写下不可能的事情之后？

达维南特夫人回答说，他像查塔姆勋爵一样“践踏”了“不可能”。 “看来这在物理上并不是不可能的。”

“我确信——我希望，”塞西莉亚继续说道，“贝尔特拉弗斯的团队与他的延误没有任何关系，但从将军的一两句话来看，我几乎可以肯定他们——布兰奇女士，恐怕——”她停在那里。 “如果贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵只是在金钱上遇到困难，”她继续说道，“那可能很容易解决，因为博克勒克足够富有。”

“是的，”达维南特夫人说，“但是鲁莽地慷慨；在当今时代，这是一个不常见的错误，因为年轻人普遍自私谨慎或自私奢侈。”

“我希望，”塞西莉亚说，“我希望布兰奇·福雷斯特夫人不会——”说到这里，她停了下来，看了看母亲的脸。她母亲回答说，博克勒克没有跟她谈起布兰奇夫人。在将她的希望和恐惧、问题和猜想融入到每一种可能的形式和方向之后，塞西莉亚夫人很满意她的母亲只知道她自己，这是一个很大的安慰。

当博克勒克先生再次出现时，海伦很高兴她坐在房间最远端的一个绣花架前，因为在那里，与世界隔绝，她感到安全，没有任何尴尬的原因，并且在那里她继续快乐，直到一些有人走过来，把灯的光举过她的头顶。那是博克勒克先生，当她抬起头时，她傻乎乎地吃了一惊，然后她所有的困惑又回来了，连感谢声都听不见，她的眼睛立即固定在她正在绣的藤叶上。他问她如何通过灯光区分蓝色和绿色？这是一个简单且不太令人担忧的问题，但她没有听清楚这些话，以为他问她是否想要一个屏幕，她回答说：“不，谢谢。”

塞西莉亚夫人笑了，用博克勒克的视力障碍掩盖了海伦的听力障碍，解释说：“你没看到吗，格兰维尔，丝绸卡片上写着‘蓝色’和‘绿色’；”不会有任何错误。”

博克勒克先生在与斯坦利小姐的谈话中做了一些值得称赞的尝试，但她仍然认为这是被迫的，除了显得被迫和不自然的、尽可能不像平时的自己之外，什么也说不出来。塞西莉亚夫人试图帮她解围，但她还是没能成功。她如果不去管它会做得更好，因为博克勒克不同意法国智者的观点： 谦逊是最好的，对他来说，这只是一种优雅的胆怯。海伦比任何人都先退休，当她想到自己愚蠢的尴尬时，她感到非常羞愧，就好像博克勒克先生真的听到了塞西莉亚女士所说的关于他的一切——看到了她所有的想法，并且理解了她的原因。她的困惑。最后，当塞西莉亚女士在睡觉前走进她的房间时，她开始说——“我确信你会骂我，这是我应得的，我对自己很生气，最糟糕的是，我认为我永远无法克服它——恐怕明天我又会犯同样的傻事。”

“我心里真想骂死你，”塞西莉亚女士说道，“但我自己也很烦恼。”

然后她犹豫了一下，看着海伦的表情，似乎对如何继续下去感到犹豫。她要么是在玩弄海伦的好奇心，要么就是她自己也很困惑。她做了两三个开头，每一个都有点不一致。

“妈妈永远是对的；和她一起——“即将发生的事件”确实真实地“在之前投下了阴影”。我确实相信她有致命的天赋，即知道即将到来的疾病！”

“患病的！”海伦说； “有什么病要来了？”

“不过，这毕竟可能不是病，”塞西莉亚女士说道。 “这可能是最好的；然而我感到非常失望，尽管我声明我从未形成过任何——”

“哦，亲爱的塞西莉亚，请立即告诉我你的意思。”

“我的意思是，格兰维尔·博克勒克，像所有天才一样，表现得像个最大的傻瓜。”

“他做了什么？”

“他绝对是——你将来必须把他视为一个已婚男人。”

海伦很高兴。塞西莉亚无法再为她制定更多的计划，她从所有的尴尬中解脱出来。

“亲爱的海伦，无论如何，一切都很好，”塞西莉亚喊道，看到她容光焕发的表情。 “这让我感到安慰；你很轻松；而且，如果我让你度过了一个不舒服的夜晚，我相信你会因为我母亲是对的而我像往常一样错了而感到安慰。但是，海伦，”她认真地继续说道，“记住，这是不可以被知道的；记住，我告诉你妈妈或将军的话，你绝对不能透露出哪怕一丝一毫的痕迹。”

海伦的脸上流露出的不仅仅是惊讶。 “博克勒克先生有可能不告诉他们——不信任他的监护人和像你母亲这样的朋友吗？”海伦说。

“他会告诉他们，他会告诉他们——但现在还不是；也许直到——他不能见他的未婚妻——他们出于某种原因同意分开一段时间——我不太清楚，但肯定每个人都可以选择自己的机会来讲述自己的秘密。事实上，据我所知，海伦女士向他强调，目前还不应该对任何人说这件事。”

“但是他告诉你了？”

” “不，确实，他没有说出来；我发现了，他也无法否认；但他吩咐我保守秘密，除了你之外，我不会告诉任何活着的人。对你来说，在我对他说了这么多之后，我觉得这是必要的——我认为我是有义务的——总之，我认为这会让事情恢复正常，让你立刻放松下来。”

然后，她更加诚恳地再次向海伦保证保密，尤其是对达维南特夫人。海伦提交了。塞西莉亚深情地拥抱了她，然后离开了房间。海伦很累，也很高兴，几分钟后就躺在床上睡着了。

她丝毫没有怀疑她的朋友告诉她的一切都不是完全正确的。对于一个比较有经验、不太信任别人的人来说，塞西莉亚夫人序言中的困惑，以及一些矛盾或不一致之处，可能会让人产生怀疑；但是，塞西莉亚夫人的序言中的一些矛盾或不一致可能会引起怀疑。但海伦对她朋友的真相的总体信心从未受到严重动摇。她一直认为达维南特夫人在这一点上有偏见，而且过于严厉。如果说塞西莉亚在童年时期就养成了不准确的坏习惯，那么海伦认为它早已改掉了。也许确实如此，直到她在国外与一个不尊重真理的人建立了友谊。

但海伦对此一无所知。事实上，到目前为止，塞西莉亚夫人的失常一直都是微不足道的、几乎难以察觉的错误，只有她母亲的严格或克拉伦登小姐的谨慎才能发现。塞西莉亚也不会冒险做出一个决定性的、重要的、错误的断言，除非是出于善意的目的。她一生中从未说过谎话来伤害任何人类，或者她预见到的谎言可能会伤害任何生物。但这里有一个朋友，一个非常亲密的朋友，正处于一种尴尬的尴尬之中，是她用她的手段带进来的。她想，只要稍微天真地歪曲事实，她就能立刻让一切恢复正常。这个想法一产生，她就决定直接执行。它位于客厅门和她的更衣室之间。当如此成功地执行时，她用愉快的诡辩为自己辩护。 “毕竟，”她自言自语道，“虽然这不完全正确，但确实如此。” 本特罗瓦托，这也许是尽可能接近事实的。博克莱尔最好的朋友真的担心他会爱上这位女士。很有可能，而且太有可能，最终他会娶这位布兰奇·福雷斯特夫人。而且，无论从哪方面来说，海伦把他视为已婚男人都是最好的选择。这将通过神奇的一击使海伦恢复过来，并将她从那种她既不能取悦也不能高兴的悲惨状态中解脱出来。”就海伦的这种良好效果而言，塞西莉亚夫人的计划是明智的。它取得了令人钦佩的成功。

精彩的！说出的几句话，从头脑中取出或放入头脑中的一个想法，如何能够产生如此大的变化，不仅在心理感受上，而且在整个身体的外观上，以及在感知和使用我们的实际能力上感官。

第二天早上，当海伦走进早餐室时，她的外表、动作和感觉都与前一天截然不同。她已经恢复了理智，可以清楚地听到和看到。她首先看到的是，没有人特别关心她；没有人特别关心她。现在她第一次真正见到博克勒克先生。她以前看过他，却没有见过他，实在不知道他是什么样的人，只知道他像个绅士；对此，她有一种直觉的感知；——正如居维叶从第一眼看到一根骨头就能看出这是什么动物，它的习性是什么，它属于什么类别，所以任何早期习惯于良好陪伴的人都可以，通过第一个手势，第一个一般的存在方式，无论是被动还是主动，都可以判断一个陌生人，即使是很少见到的人，是否是一位绅士。

早餐开始时，博克勒克先生的外表和举止都具有典型的英国人的安静，带着一种对世俗事物漠不关心的高教养气质，但言行举止却适合在场的人。然而，这件事的做和说都像在梦中，表现得像一个梦游者，完全出于习惯，但都是无意识的。克拉伦登将军一进来，他就从沉思中惊醒，急切地问道：

“一般的！到老森林还有多远？”这是他清醒时说出的第一句话。 “今天早上我必须骑车去那儿；这是绝对必要的。”

将军回答说，他认为没有必要。

“但是当我这么做的时候，先生，”博克勒克喊道。年轻人打破常规的自然活力。下一刻，他一脸谦卑地希望将军能陪他一起去，但下一刻，他脸上骄傲谦逊的神情就消失了，因为将军提出了异议，博克勒克又补充道：“到目前为止，你不肯答应我吗？那我就得自己走了。”

将军似乎还在继续自己的想法，并没有被他的受监护人的不耐烦所感动，他谈到了要推迟的审查，最后发现他可以陪伴他。博克勒克很高兴，热情地感谢他。

“请问这次重要的老森林之行的目的是什么？”达维南特夫人说道。

“去看一栋破旧的房子。”将军说道。

“为了拯救整个家庭免遭毁灭，”博克勒克喊道。 “让一个具有一流才能的人恢复他在社会中的地位。”

“噗！”将军说道。

“亲爱的将军，为什么要发出这种轻蔑的惊叹声？”博克勒克说。

“我已经告诉过你了，我再一次告诉过你，这件事是不可能的！”将军说道。

“我听到你这么说，先生，”他的监护人回答道。 “但在我确信之前，我会坚持我的计划。”

“那么你的计划是什么，格兰维尔？”达维南特夫人说道。

“当我们单独相处时，我会向你解释，”博克莱克说。

“请原谅，我不知道其中有什么秘密，”达文南特女士说。 “没什么神秘的，”博克勒克说，“只是借钱给朋友而已。”

“我不会同意，”将军说。

“为什么不呢，先生？” “博克勒克说，他把头向后仰去，脸上带着挑衅的神情。当他看着他的监护人时，他的情绪迅速变化，与将军一成不变的外表形成了鲜明的对比。

“我已经告诉你我的理由了，博克勒克，”将军说，“没有必要重复我说过的话，你不会有任何好处。”

“不好，将军？当我告诉你，如果我借给贝尔特拉弗斯钱，修缮他的住所，使他的姐妹们能够居住在其中，他将不再是一个被放逐的人，一个无用的缺席者，一个在国外的流浪者但他会来到老森林定居，重新建立家庭的财富和体面，最重要的是，拯救自己的品格和幸福。噢，我亲爱的将军！”

克拉伦登将军显然被他的受监护人的仁慈热情所感动，他停顿了一下说，有很多回忆让他重访老森林感到非常痛苦。尽管如此，他还是会为博克勒克这么做，因为只有亲眼目睹这个地方才能让他相信自己的计划不切实际。 “我从小时候起就没有去过老森林了，”将军继续说道，“因为它被主人遗弃了，而且不幸地发生了变化，我会找到它的。

“从前，福列斯特夫妇是一个受人尊敬、善良的古老英国家庭，直到第二任妻子，漂亮又愚蠢，喜欢上了伦敦，当然她在伦敦没什么名气。然后，为了让自己出人头地，她强迫丈夫代表县里。一场有争议的选举——贿赂——请愿——另一场选举——毁灭性的开支。然后贝尔特拉弗斯的头衔就降临到了他们身上：他们必须不辜负这个头衔——而且超出了他们的收入。老故事——债台高筑。然后是新的故事——他们必须出国谋经济！”

“经济！那些没有勇气在家里紧缩开支的人的胡言乱语，”达文南特女士说。

“他们必须，”他们说，“住在国外，那里太便宜了，”将军继续说道。 “离开他们的房子去毁掉真是太便宜了！教育费也便宜！这么好——那会带来什么结果呢？”

“在很多情况下，对于一个家庭来说，这是一种廉价的供给，”达文南勋爵说。 “撒旦，妻子、儿子和女儿都是你自己的。”

“在这种情况下不行，”博克勒克喊道。 “你的意思不可能是我希望。”

“我可以为一个人负责，至少是女儿，”达文南特夫人说。 “那个疯子。圣西蒙，我们在国外见过，在佛罗伦萨，你知道，塞西莉亚，我不会让你和他结识的。

将军说道：“夫人说得对。”

博克勒克无法说“完全错误”，而且他看起来很痛苦。

“我对这个儿子一无所知，”达文南特夫人追问。

“我愿意，”博克勒克说，“他是我的朋友。”

“我以为那个年轻的贝尔特拉弗斯是一个非常痛苦的人，”救援人员说。

“如果他是，那也不妨碍我成为他的朋友，先生，”博克勒克说。

“当然，”助手说，“我只是问问而已。”

“他是一个天才和感情的人，”博克勒克继续说道，转向达文南特夫人。

“但我以前从未听你提到过贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵。他和你做朋友多久了？”达维南特夫人说道。

博克莱克犹豫了。将军毫不犹豫地回答：“三个星期零一天。”

“我不会以几天或几周来衡量我的友谊，”博克莱克说。

“不，我亲爱的博克勒克，”将军说，“如果你屈尊采取任何这样的常识性措施，那对你来说是件好事。”说话间，他从早餐桌上站了起来，按响了铃，吩咐马匹。

“将军，您对贝尔特拉弗斯有偏见；但我相信，当你了解他时，你会对他有更好的看法。”

“我怀疑，当你了解他时，你会对他产生更坏的看法，”将军回答道。

“怀疑！但既然你只 疑似，”博克勒克说，“我们英国人不会因为闻所未闻、看不见的怀疑而谴责。”

“并非闻所未闻，”将军说，“我已经听够了他的事迹。”

“来自他的敌人的报告，”博克勒克说。

“我通常不会根据朋友或敌人的报告来做出判断，”将军回答道。我没有荣幸认识任何贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵的敌人。”

“贝尔特拉弗斯领主的敌人！”达文南特夫人惊呼道。 “他有什么资格像伟人一样对待敌人？——一个闻所未闻的人，竟然树敌！但如今，这些名声大噪的候选人，这些即将受到庆祝的人，像对待自己的马车一样，赊账地树敌——然后，通过一个简单的逻辑过程，得出这样的三段论：——每个伟人有敌人，因此，每个有敌人的人都一定是伟大的——嘿，博克勒克？”

博克勒克只露出淡淡的、心不在焉的微笑，然后转向他的监护人，问道：“既然贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵不被允许获得敌人的荣誉，或者恳求偏见的好处，那么， 做了 他的判断的总体形式是什么？

“从他自己的话来说。”

“请保持判断力，我亲爱的将军，”博克勒克喊道。 “话又重复了！通过谁？”

“没有人重复——从他自己那里听到的。”

“你自己！我不知道你们曾经见过面；——什么时候？在哪里？”博克莱克在椅子上向前倾身，急切地倾听着答案。

“遗憾！”达维南特夫人自言自语地说：“可惜！ ‘如此迅速的感情点燃火焰’，他们应该被烧毁。”

“何时何地？”博克莱克重复道，他的眼睛盯着他的守护者，他的灵魂在他的眼睛里。

他的监护人冷静而缓慢地回答，斩钉截铁地说：“我什么时候见到贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵的？就在他父亲去世前不久。——哪里？在格蕾丝·布兰德夫人家。”

“在格蕾丝·布兰德夫人家！——在那里他不可能显得占优势！好吧，先生，继续吧。”

“等一下——请原谅，博克勒克；我和你一样有好奇心。我可以问为什么贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵不可能在格蕾丝·布兰德夫人家中表现出优势吗？

“因为我知道他无法忍受她；我听他在谈到她时，引用了约翰逊或其他人对克拉丽丝的评价——“一个喋喋不休、爱说教、脆弱的人。”

“好的！”将军说道：“这是他说他自己的姨妈的！”

“阿姨！你该不会是说格蕾丝夫人是他的姨妈吧？”博克莱克喊道。

“她是他母亲的妹妹，”将军回答道，“因此，我认为，她是他的姨妈。”

“就这样吧，”博克勒克喊道。 “人们有时必须说实话，即使是他们自己的亲戚；他们一定最了解这一点，因此我得出结论，贝尔特拉弗斯所说的格蕾丝夫人是真实的。”

“好极了！格兰维尔，像往常一样，我们很快就得出了结论，”达维南特夫人说，“但是，将军，请继续告诉我们你从这位尊贵的勋爵那里听到了什么；你能找到比他自己的证人博克勒克提供的证据更好的证据吗？”

“我认为更好，同样，”将军说：“大人有一贯的优点。在餐桌上，当然有仆人在场，而我自己是个陌生人，我听到贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵开始咒骂英格兰和所有居住在其中的人。 “但是你的国家！”他姨妈抗议道。他放弃了英格兰；他说，他没有国家，自由派人士从来没有国家。他没有任何亲属关系——我认为他辩称，未经他同意，大自然赋予他的东西他有权否认。但我可以向他的结论发誓——‘我的父亲是个白痴，我的母亲是个畜生，而我的妹妹可能会以她自己的方式走向魔鬼。’”

“品味太差了！”援助营说。

达维南特夫人看着海伦脸上难以言喻的惊讶，微笑起来。 “亲爱的孩子，当你在世上度过一个季节后，这种惊喜的力量就会消失。”

“但即使是对于见过世面的人来说，”见过世面的副官说道，“在我看来，这实在是太糟糕了！”

“真是普通的坏品味！ “这让我印象深刻。”达维南特夫人说道。 “低级的模仿，而模仿永远是对贫穷的承认，是对原创天才的缺乏。但模仿者的种族也有等级之分。有些人选择了自己的原作，有些则比较接近原作；但在这里，一切似乎都同样糟糕、笨拙，是伯明翰的赝品；你不这么认为吗，博克勒克？假货掉落时不会发出任何声音。对于你的门生来说，这是最糟糕的，我相信他的伟大抱负就是在世界上引起轰动。不过，我可以不提劝告，因为我很清楚，你永远不会放过一个朋友。”

“从来没有，从来没有！”博克莱克喊道。

“那么，我亲爱的格兰维尔，请不要接受这个人，这个贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵，因为，相信它，他永远不会这样做。如果他像一部伟大的原创作品一样，为了名誉而做出大胆的举动，并做出一些没有名字的事迹，以激发轻信的英国公众喜爱奇迹的想象力，那么人们可能会对他有所看法。但这种懦弱、消极的罪恶， 不能 孝敬他的父亲和母亲！也很常见，中性色调——没有效果。真是一个失败，一个人甚至无法凝视，而且你知道，格兰维尔，所有这些奇怪的演讲的目的只是为了让傻瓜凝视。在一天之内成为伦敦世界的奇迹，是这些昙花一现的名誉追逐者的伟大抱负：“在夕阳下闪闪发光、嗡嗡作响、飞舞的昆虫。”

博克勒克把茶杯推到半边桌子上，惊呼道：“太不公平了！把他归入一个他尽可能厌恶和鄙视的部落，达文南特女士。这一切都是因为那次不幸的演讲——不太公平、笼统、不太哲学，达维南特女士，从一次演讲的样本中判断一个人的性格：这就像从一块砖的样本中判断一座房子一样。一直以来，我都知道贝尔特拉弗斯是如何发表那次演讲的——我知道那是怎样的，也知道如果我当时在场——那就更好了！”

“更好的！”塞西莉亚女士喊道。

“女士们先生们可能会笑，”博克勒克继续说道，“但我认真地坚持——更好！”

“比当时在场、亲眼所见、亲耳所闻的将军强多了？”塞西莉亚女士说。

“是的，更好，因为他只看到结果，而我知道原因；我向达文南夫人求助，从达文南夫人的讽刺到达文南夫人的哲学，我呼吁发现原因的人难道不会说他比只看到结果的人知道更多吗？

“无论如何，他可能会说他知道得更多，”达文南特夫人回答道。 “但现在是为了发现原因，形而上学先生​​。”

“我已经做到了，”将军喊道，转身离开早餐室。 “当博克勒克转向形而上学时，我就放弃了。”

“不，不，不要放弃，我亲爱的将军，”塞西莉亚夫人喊道。 “在我们听到接下来会发生什么之前，请不要动，因为我确信这将是一件非常荒谬的事情。”

博克勒克鞠了一躬，担心他不应该证明夫人的好意见，因为他没有什么令人愉快的荒谬可说，并补充说，他的朋友看起来像个畜生的原因是，他害怕成为伪君子中的伪君子。

“贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵和一群人在一起，他们竭尽全力掩饰自己，让自己看起来比实际情况更好，而他，一如既往，努力让自己看起来比实际情况更糟糕。”

“我认为没有必要，”达文南特女士说。

“我想，这不可能，”将军说。

“将军，我知道要改变你对任何人的看法是不可能的，”博克勒克说。

“就我个人而言，我对此感到高兴，”塞西莉亚女士站起身来说道。 “我建议你，格兰维尔，满足于将军对自己的看法，不要再说了。”

“但是，”博克勒克说。 “一个人不能总是满足于只考虑自己。”

“别再说了，别再说了。”塞西莉亚女士重复道，她在门口阻止了将军，微笑着回头。 “看在我的份上，我恳求你不要再说了，我确实不喜欢听到对任何事或任何人说这么多。通往老森林的路是什么样的？”她继续说道； “亲爱的克拉伦登，我们女士们为什么不和你一起去，让这条路充满活力呢？”

听到这个提议，克拉伦登的脸色变得明亮起来。他说，泰晤士河畔的这条路确实很漂亮。塞西莉亚夫人和将军离开了房间，但博克勒克仍然坐在早餐桌旁，显然正全神贯注地用三个茶匙组成一个三脚架；达维南特女士在他对面，认真地看着他，“格兰维尔！”她说。他开始说道：“格兰维尔！一言以蔽之，告诉我 莫特德尼格梅 突如其来的友谊。”

“不是你想象的那样。”他坚定地说，但脸色却变深了。 “事实是，贝尔特拉弗斯和我是同学；他生来就是个慷慨的小伙子。他曾经自费把我从悲伤的困境中救了出来，我永远不会忘记。自从我们离开伊顿公学以来，我们从未见过面，直到大约三周前在城里，当我发现他遇到了很大的困难，而且还受到一个政党的迫害时——我无法拒绝他——我宁愿被枪杀！”

“亲爱的格兰维尔，我希望没有立即被枪杀的必要，”达文南特夫人说。 “但如果这确实是 所有，我永远不会再对你的贝尔特拉弗斯大人说一句话；我将让你去了解他的性格，或者让时间来展现他的性格。如果你把钱扔掉，我会很满意，如果问题只是钱的话；无论贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵是谁，他都是如此。让他说，‘或者让他们这么做，这对我来说都是一件事’，只要他不把你嫁给他的妹妹。”

“他没有想到这一点，”博克勒克喊道。 “达维南特女士，如果他这么做了，你是否认为世界上任何一个男人都可以随心所欲地以婚姻的方式处置我？”

“我希望不会，”达文南特夫人说。

“放心，不会的；我自己的意志，我自己的心，必须决定这件事。”

“马已经到门口了！”塞西莉亚进来时喊道。但是“海伦在哪里？”

当达文南特夫人说出“让我放心吧，格兰维尔”这句话时，海伦已经逃出了房间，因为她觉得这样对他来说一定很尴尬，对她自己来说也很尴尬。然而，她的撤退并未造成重大损失，她被迫将礼服上的一大片绉纱边饰留在了达维南特夫人无情的椅子脚下。

“如果我没有记错的话，这是属于斯坦利小姐的东西，”第一个发现碎片的将军说道。副官弯腰接受这件事——塞西莉亚夫人对此表示同情——达维南特夫人宣称这是海伦自己的错——博克勒克明白这是怎么发生的，但什么也没说。

“但是，海伦，”塞西莉亚夫人再次出现时喊道，“但是，海伦，你不跟我们一起去吗？”

海伦本来打算和达维南特夫人一起坐小马车去，但她的夫人现在宣布她在家有事要做；因此，决定由海伦参加骑马队，该队由塞西莉亚夫人和将军、博克勒克和她自己组成。

这是一个令人愉快的一天，阳光明媚，不太热，空气温和，鸟儿歌唱，大自然的一切都很愉快；骑行队很快就感受到了这种快乐的影响。对过去或未来的不愉快的想法，如果有的话，现在都消失在当下的享受中。将军，两次骑在马背上，正如他一直觉得自己一样，管理自己和海伦的马令人钦佩，而塞西莉亚，与博克勒克一起骑马，很高兴听到他的第一个观察，他昨晚完全错了，不承认斯坦利小姐很漂亮。 “人们在日光下和在烛光下看起来如此不同，”他说； “当一个人根本不了解它们时，以及当一个人开始了解它们时，情况就变得如此不同。”

“但是你对海伦还了解多少呢？”

“一个人从像空气一样的琐事中形成了一些关于性格的想法。这日子多高兴呀！”

“现在你真的允许她被称为美丽了吗？”

“是的，也就是说，有一些思想、心灵、灵魂的表达，这正是我所寻求的，”博克莱克说。

“一般来说，您所说的一般是什么意思？”

“不是特别的；在某些特殊情况下，我可能会认为——我——我可能会有这样的感觉。”

“那么，你特别喜欢没有头脑、没有心灵、没有灵魂的傻瓜吗，格兰维尔？——回答我。”

“小心点，”他说，“那匹马太活泼了，不适合女士。”

“不适合我，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “但别以为你会这样下车；你什么意思？”

“我的意思对于目前的情况来说太深了。”

“对于现在的公司来说——嗯？”

博克勒克半笑着回答道：“你知道你曾经告诉过我，你讨厌长时间讨论文字和漂亮的区别。”

“好吧，好吧，但现在让我好好区分一下。”

“那么，在爱情和友谊之间，人们对女人脸上的愿望是有很大不同的；有一些‘苍白的激情所喜爱的面孔。’”

“向右转，”远处传来将军的声音。

他们向右转，进入公园的一片空地，从这里可以看到将军最喜欢的景色，塞西莉亚知道必须全神贯注。他上来了，他们穿过一片由他父亲种植的树林，这片树林似乎注定永远不会受到亵渎的斧头的伤害。这条路接下来他们进入了一个村庄，这是那种分散的英国村庄中最漂亮的一个，那里的每一个住所似乎都适合每个业主的喜好和便利。给人一种舒适和自由的感觉，这种感觉只有在英国才能看到。幸福的英格兰，多么幸福啊，她要是知道自己的幸福就好了！

这个村庄居住着将军的佃户。每当他来到他们中间时，他的脸色就变得明亮、宽广，就像他们的脸一样。他看到他们幸福，他们知道他们的幸福与他们的房东和他们自己成正比。因此，他们的感激之情和自尊之情融为一体。一些坐在石凳上在门口晒太阳的老人，在他经过时站了起来，手里拿着帽子，亲切地打着招呼。最年长的男人，也就是村里的父亲，在上前看望地主的新娘并给他带来欢乐时，忘记了他的拐杖。他们所到之处的每一户人家都出来了丈夫、妻子和孩子，甚至还有“蹒跚学步的小东西”。其中一只，当将军与它的母亲说话时，它可怕地靠近他的马蹄：海伦看到了它，并呼叫了母亲。将军转身靠在马背上，对被母亲一把抱起的大胆小顽童说道：“孩子，只要你活着，就别再跟在马后跟后面了。”

“记住，这个建议是克拉伦登将军给你的，”博克勒克补充道，然后转向塞西莉亚女士——“”这是蒂雷纳元帅的纪念品'”。

当将军寻找英国纪念品六便士时，塞西莉亚夫人重复道：“蒂雷纳元帅！我不明白。”

“是的，如果你记得的话，”海伦说，“你记得。”

“我敢说我知道，但我不记得了，”塞西莉亚说。 “只是，”海伦说，“同样的事情也发生在蒂雷纳元帅身上，他给了一个小孩子同样的建议。”

塞西莉亚夫人说，她欠博克勒克一个致谢，感谢她对她的将军的恭维，也欠海伦一个至少同样低的鞠躬，因为她让她理解了这一点。她优雅而迅速地还清了这两笔债务，并在旁白中对博克勒克说，她非常同意他的观点，即“在友谊中，不与傻瓜打交道是件好事。”

他笑了。

塞西莉亚继续说道：“女人运用自己的智力去理解男人所说的话，这始终是被允许的。她的知识，无论是什么类型，只要它只是用来说明造物主之一所说的话，就永远不会出错。亲爱的海伦，让我们记下这一点，作为一条普遍格言，以备将来使用，并祈祷，既然你记忆力这么好，请记得告诉妈妈，她说我从不概括，今天早上我实际上已经制定并建立了一个这是一条哲学格言，也许也有一定用处，但它不能适用于所有的反思，无论是一般的还是特殊的。”

他们骑马穿过一条小巷，小巷明亮，充满报春花和紫罗兰的芳香。这条小巷渐渐蜿蜒，最后通向美丽的泰晤士河岸，在明媚的阳光下，泰晤士河的“银色的胸怀”立即出现在他们面前，静静地，流淌着，正如博克勒克所说，似乎永远流淌着。完整、广泛、平静的尊严没有改变。 “在这里，”当他们停下来凝视风景时，他惊呼道，“熙熙攘攘的商业人群、笨重的驳船、黑色的汽船、商业的喧嚣，从来没有违背过汹涌的水流。没有高耸的桥梁侮辱性地拱过它，没有石头建造的码头限制它；除了它自己的河岸之外什么也没有，它们与它自己同时代，并且像它自己一样，没有受到人类琐碎用途的污染！——它们扩展成大公园，或者挂满茂密的树林，如大自然所愿。没有公民包厢、没有奇美别墅破坏休息的理念；但大自然不间断地在田野、洪水和树木中进行着自己的运作。”

将军不太喜欢诗意，他会向海伦说出视野中所有美丽的地方——“住宅”，正如他实际上所说的那样，“除了英国之外，在世界上任何国家都看不到这样的地方；”不仅是这些美丽的地方，而且从小屋到宫殿——‘老英格兰的家园’都是地球上最好的家园。”

博克勒克说：“所有现代法国旅行者中最坦诚、最明智的人，对我们英国乡村住宅的优越性和家的舒适感尤其印象深刻。”

“你是说德斯塔尔先生吗？”将军说； “我承认那本书里有真正的英语意义。”

当将军和博克勒克对一本书的看法确实达成一致时（这种情况并不常见），他们都很高兴。一个人总是感受到对方的实际意义的价值，而另一个人则承认文学是有好处的。博克勒克以饱满的心情和丰富的言辞开始阐述德·斯塔尔先生的优点，因为他比任何外国人都更了解英国宪法的实际运作和平衡，这部宪法在国外广为谈论。太少了解了。

“对任何地方都了解甚少，”将军说。

博克勒克现在讲得很合理，海伦对他的能力有了新的认识，甚至开始比她在贝尔特拉弗斯的事业中听到他时更加尊重地思考他的常识。他谈到了英国繁荣的原因，以及她在各国中保持优势的手段——平等的法律和公正的行政。他观察到，每个出生在英国的人，即使是出身最低的人，也可能希望通过自己的优点登上最高的地位，这形成了勤奋和才华的伟大源泉。他同意这位聪明的外国人的观察，即在英国，才华横溢的贵族比出生的贵族优越。

将军似乎对上级这个词表示反对，他挺直了身子，但没有说任何反驳的话。

“在英国，工业、财富、教育和时尚都相互竞争，互惠互利，”博克勒克继续说道。

将军又坐了下来。

“最重要的是，”博克勒克继续说道，“最重要的是教育和知识的传播——”

“知识——是的，但要注意哪种知识，”他的监护人说。 “所有种类都是好的，”博克勒克说。

“不，只有安全的人才可以，”将军说。他不喜欢智力的前进，除非步伐完美地保持，而且一切都在适当的时候。

但现在，当他们经过树林中的一个突出的弯曲处时，他们看到了一个与他们刚刚欣赏的一切形成鲜明对比的地方。公园面积相当大，完全没有树木，除了在一座荒凉的山顶上一座破旧的大宅邸两侧有几棵参差不齐的冷杉外：似乎那里曾经有一片大树林。

“老森林！”将军惊呼道； “老森林，现在不复存在了！当我还是个孩子的时候，我在那些树林里打猎度过了许多快乐的时光。”他指着目力所及之处无数的树桩，标志着森林曾经矗立的地方：一些白色的圆圈地面上显示了新砍伐的巨大体型。博克莱尔沉默不语。

将军带路来到大门前：看门人的小屋已成废墟。

其中一扇门上挂着一把巨大的生锈的挂锁，门被拖到半开，但是，铰链已经下陷，它卡在那里——门无法再打开了。另一个不能摇动，除非有迫在眉睫的危险，它挂在码头上，这太疯狂了，马夫说，“他担心，如果他摇得再小一点，所有的东西都会一起掉下来。”

“别管它了，”将军用一种决心保持耐心的语气说道。 “有足够的空间让我们一个一个地进去——斯坦利小姐，请不要着急，如果你愿意的话；”静静地跟着我。”

在他们归档。这条大道长满了青草，要不是深深的、古老的车辙仍然标明着道路，很难找到。但很快，倒下的树木、折断的树枝，拖走了许多道路，然后就离开了那里，使得通行变得困难。那里裸露着许多名贵树的白色树身，有的整个树皮，有的一半，树皮都被剥光了，有的已经腐烂，任凭风吹雨打，变成了绿色——到处都是燃烧着的木炭冒着烟的小金字塔。

当他们走近那所房子时——将军说，“这座曾经令人愉快、热情好客的宅邸发生了多么大的变化！”——这是一个废弃房屋的令人忧郁的例子：灰泥脱落，切割的石头变绿，窗户破碎，百叶窗半掩着，通向大厅门台阶的路被堵住了。他们被迫绕过院子。马车房、马厩、大牧场，现在都已破败不堪。大狗舍里只有一只狂吠的杂种狗。后门半开着，将军推开它，他们进去了，来到了大厨房，他们在柴火的烟雾中发现了一个小老太婆，他们差点把她吓得魂飞魄散。她站起来凝视着。博克勒克走向她解释。但她聋了：他提高了声音——徒劳。将军的声音传到了她的心里，让她明白了——“他们只是来看看这个地方的。”

“看地方吧！啊！令人悲伤的景象。”她的目光又转向博克勒克，想到他就是年轻的领主本人，她的脸色变得苍白，她的头可怕地摇晃着。但是，当她从这个错误中解脱出来后，她就上前带他们参观房子。

当他们走上大楼梯时，她向她的朋友将军吐露，她很高兴那不是年轻的勋爵，因为有人告诉她，他是个脾气暴躁的人，她害怕他不知不觉地到来。

塞西莉亚女士问她是否不认识他？

不，从他还是个小家伙的时候起，她就从未见过他：“他一直像其他人一样，在异国他乡流浪，自从来到男人的庄园以来，从未踏足过这个地方。”

当将军经过着陆点的一扇窗户时，他向外看了看。——“您错过了那棵大榆树，先生。啊!我记得你在这里，一个男孩；你一直都很好。那是少爷特意吩咐砍的，我实在受不了。最后一棵真正的古树！好吧！我又老又傻——我又老又傻，我不应该说话。”

但她还是继续说下去，因为这似乎是她唯一的安慰，他们不会制止她的喋喋不休。她希望他们能来夺走这座房子，现在她竭尽全力地忙碌着，以展现出最好的优势，但正如她悲伤地说的那样，现在糟糕就是最好的。她很不愿意先生们上去视察屋顶。然而他们还是去了；将军看到并估计，博克勒克看到并希望。

将军回忆起这所房子的地理位置，发现她没有向他们展示以前的画廊，从那里可以看到外面的露台。他想看看。她不情愿地服从了。在尝试了各种不可能的钥匙之后，一直重复着她的心碎了，她希望上帝永远不要给她一颗心，她在恐惧中无法打开门。博克勒克轻轻地从她手中接过钥匙，充满同情心地看着她，她祈求上帝保佑他，并认为她年轻的主人不像他，真是可惜。当他处理锁的时候，塞西莉亚女士说他们不会再麻烦她了，把她认为会有所安慰的东西塞到了她手里。可怜的老家伙感谢了夫人，但又说金子对她现在的生活已经没有什么用处了。她应该尽快让教区埋葬她，这样年轻的领主就不会付出任何代价。她说，她可以原谅很多事情，但她永远无法原谅他放弃那些旧照片。画廊门打开时，她转过身去。

那里只有一尊祖母的旧画。其余的都被卖掉了，墙上的空位置仍然变色。那里有两三把被肢解的旧椅子，华丽的窗户被打破，地板被老鼠咬坏了。将军站着看着，并没有叹息，而是发出绝对的呻吟。他们走到破碎的玻璃门前，从门上可以看到露台——那个露台花了数千英镑筹建，他打电话给塞西莉亚，带她参观年轻人过去玩耍的地方，并指出一些他最喜欢的地方。出没。

博克勒克说：“看到一个家庭住所如此化为废墟，真是令人悲伤。” “如果这让我们如此震惊，那么对于这个家庭的儿子来说，回到他祖先的房子，却发现它如此荒凉，那该是怎样的感受呢！可怜的贝尔特拉弗斯！”

将军眼色一变。

“我相信你一定可怜他，我亲爱的将军，”博克勒克继续说道。

“如果他做了任何事情来阻止，或者他不采取任何措施来加速这种毁灭，我可能会这样做。”

“如何？他不应该砍伐树木，你的意思是？——但这是为了偿还他父亲的债务——”

“还有他自己的，”将军说。

“他告诉我他父亲的，先生。”

“我告诉你他自己的。”

“即便如此，”博克勒克说，“债务并不是犯罪，我们应该对我们的同胞关闭怜悯之门——像贝尔特拉弗斯这样年轻的人，独自一人，没有家，他的家人在国外，没有父母，没有朋友——没有监护人朋友。”

“但是你会做什么呢，博克勒克？”将军说道。

“你一定希望这样做，”博克勒克说。 “修复这座废墟，恢复这座曾经热情好客的宅邸，并将其交到儿子的手中，让它像他的祖先一样。”

“但是怎么——我亲爱的博克勒克？直接告诉我——怎么做？”

“说白了，我会借给他足够的钱，让这栋房子适合居住。”

“而他永远不会报答你，也永远不会生活在其中。”

“他会的，先生——他向我保证他会的。”

“答应你了！”

“我答应过他，我会把钱借给他。”

“答应了！博克莱尔？在您的监护人不知情的情况下？求求你，多少钱——”

“如果我还记得这些话，那我就很困惑了。其意义在于，这件事能做什么？什么样的房子适合他和他的姐妹们居住。”

“一万！——一万五千不行。”

“好吧，先生。你比我更清楚需要什么。几千个或多或少，意味着什么，只要朋友得到良好的服务。我在漫长的未成年时期积累的多余资金无法得到更好的利用。”

“从你父亲去世的那一刻起，我就如此用心地为你保存着一切！”

“我亲爱的监护人，我亲爱的朋友，不要认为我忘恩负义；但事实是——简而言之，我的幸福不取决于、永远不能取决于金钱；我的幸福取决于金钱。因此，作为我的朋友，我恳求你少考虑我的金钱利益，多考虑我的幸福。”

“博克勒克，你不知道你的幸福是什么。前一小时你告诉我这是一回事，下一小时又是另一回事。您想为自己建造的新房子的计划怎么样了？我必须对你有常识，博克勒克，因为你自己没有常识。我不会给你这笔钱给贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵。”

“先生，你忘记了，我告诉过你我已经答应过你。”

“你忘了，博克勒克，我告诉过你，这样的承诺本身就模糊而荒谬，未经你的监护人同意或同意而做出的，是绝对无效的。”

“也许它在法律上无效，”博克勒克喊道。 “但正是出于这个原因，在荣誉方面，越强大，约束力就越大，我是在对一个有荣誉感的人说话。”

“献给一个能够维护自己荣誉的人，”将军说。

“我也相信。”

“你最好像你父亲那样相信它：它不会被牵连——”

“等我成年了，”博克勒克打断道。

“你想怎么做就怎么做吧，”将军说道。 “与此同时，我将履行我的职责。”

“但是，先生，我只请求你让我 借 这笔钱。”

“借——胡说！借给一个不能提供任何担保的人。”

“安全！”博克勒克说道，脸上带着难以言表的轻蔑。 “当朋友遇到困难时，像律师一样与他交谈，获得安全感！请祈祷，先生，别再这样了。我宁愿马上给钱。”

“我对此毫不怀疑；然后我立刻说不，先生。”

“不，先生！你为什么说不呢？

“因为我认为这是我的职责，而且我所听到的一切都没有动摇我的观点。”

“观点！所以我就会毫无理由地被舆论贬低！”博克莱克喊道。然后努力控制自己的脾气，“但是告诉我，亲爱的将军，为什么我不能得到这笔该死的钱？”

“因为，我亲爱的博克勒克，我是你的监护人，并且可以说 没有，并且在必要时可以像任何活着的人一样坚定地拒绝。”

“是的，而且是在没有必要的时候。克拉伦登将军，根据您的估计，使这座房子达到可居住状态所需的最高金额是一万五千英镑——我遵守这个金额！”

“坚持！”

“是的，我需要它，以履行我对贝尔特拉弗的承诺，而且我必须得到它。”

“不是我说的。”

“那是从别人那里得到的，我愿意。”

“最亲爱的克拉伦登，”塞西莉亚夫人低声说道，“就让他得到吧，因为他已经答应了——”

克拉伦登将军似乎没有听到她的低语，脸上的肌肉也没有任何变化，他重复道：“不是我说的。”

“那么从别人那里——我可以。”

“只要我有能力阻止，就不会。”

“力量！力量！力量！是的，这就是你所热爱的，最重要的是一切事物和所有人，我明确地告诉你，克拉伦登将军，”博克勒克继续说道，他太生气了，没有注意到或看到塞西莉亚夫人的抗议表情，“我立即告诉你，你没有力量。你已经拥有了。它已经过去了。你所拥有的情感的力量，即使不是理性的；但克拉伦登将军，武力、专制永远无法统治我。我不会屈服于任何人的单纯意志，更不会屈服于任何人的绝对固执。”

听到“固执”二字，将军原本僵硬的脸色，变得坚硬如铁。博克莱克在房间里大步走来走去，边走边继续自言自语。

“在我这个年纪，我自己的钱被禁止使用，被当作孩子——白痴一样对待！不考虑多年的自由裁量权，而其他能力最卑鄙的人，根据土地法，可以用自己的财产为所欲为！老天爷啊！——这是我父亲的意愿——”

“应该受到尊重，亲爱的格兰维尔，因为这是你父亲的遗嘱，”塞西莉亚女士一边说，一边和他一起走。 “还有尊重——”他突然停了下来。

“亲爱的塞西莉亚女士，为了你——”他努力克制自己。

“直到此刻，我还没有对克拉伦登将军说过一句不敬的话。我一直把他视为我父亲的代表；当我最难堪的时候，我却背负着枷锁，而父亲却乐于将我留在其中。在我这个年纪，很少有男人会如此屈服于比自己大不了多少岁的监护人。”

“是的，确实应该考虑这一点，”塞西莉亚女士转向将军说道。

“我一直认为克拉伦登将军更像是我的朋友，而不是我的监护人。”

“我也希望如此，”将军说道，语气轻松，但神情却并不轻松。

“我从来没有像某些受监护人对待他们的监护人那样对待你，先生。我以正直的人与正直的人、绅士与绅士、朋友与朋友的身份公开交往。”

“我承认并感受到了，博克勒克。”

“那么现在，我亲爱的克拉伦登，请满足我向你提出的唯一一个请求——答应吧。”博克莱尔不耐烦地浑身发抖。

“不，”将军说，“我已经说过了——不。”

画廊里响起了声音。

“不！”博克莱尔重复道。

两人各自在房间里走来走去，说话不听对方说什么。海伦听到了博克勒克的提议，她非常希望将军能够听从。但他充耳不闻，决心不屈服于博克勒克进一步说的任何话：他们耳中的激情噪音太大，他们中的任何一个都听不到对方的声音。

博克勒克突然转过身，惊呼道：

“你说是跟我一起生的吗？ “我必须承受——天哪！”他喊道，“超出了我所能承受的范围，超出了我愿意承受的范围。明天太阳落山之前我就会拿到钱。”

“从谁？”

“来自任何放债的犹太人——高利贷者——勒索者——骗子——流氓——无论他是什么。你驱使我这么做——你——你我的朋友——你，我如此公开地与他打交道；直到最后，它都会开放。我不会屈从于卑鄙的间接手段。我告诉你，我的监护人，如果你拒绝我自己的权利，我就会从犹太人那里得到我想要的东西。”

“很容易，”他的监护人说。 “但首先，请记住，在这种情况下，你父亲遗嘱中的一项条款将把他的遗产交给你的表弟维纳布尔斯。”

“对我表弟维纳布尔斯来说，让他们走——全部——全部；如果这是您的荣幸，先生，那就这样吧。地球上最低等的人，只要有感情，就会信守诺言。奴隶有说话的权利！如果你愿意的话，就毁了我吧，只要你愿意，就毁了我；你不能让我丢脸；你不能屈服我的精神；我会遇到任何形式的毁灭，而不是屈服于这样的守护者，这样的——”

他正要说“暴君”的话，但塞西莉亚女士突然抓住他的手臂，强行把他带走，说道：“格兰维尔，跟我一起到露台上来，恢复理智。”

“我的感觉！我从来没有失去过他们；我这辈子从来没有这么凉过。”他说着，在玻璃门第一次受到阻力时就把它踢开了，把剩下的玻璃打碎成碎片。将军没有注意到，也没有听到撞击声，他站在那里，胳膊肘靠在壁炉架上，用手遮住眼睛。海伦留在他身边，呼吸声几乎听不见。他不知道她在那里，他深情地大声重复道：“暴君！来自博克勒克！”

海伦的一声叹息让他意识到了她的存在，当他把手从眼睛上移开时，她看到他的表情更多的是悲伤而不是愤怒：她轻声说道：“先生。”博克勒克错了，非常错，但他当时正处于激情之中，他不知道自己的意思是什么。”

一阵沉默。 “我相信你是对的，”将军说，“那是愤怒——”

“最优秀的人都会受到这种影响，”海伦说，“最优秀、最善良的人最容易原谅。”

“但是博克勒克说了一些话——”

“不可原谅——忘了他们吧；让一切都被遗忘吧。”

“是的，”将军说，“除了我的决心；观察一下，这是固定的。斯坦利小姐，我的决定已经决定了，而且一旦决定，就不会改变。”

“我确信这一点，”海伦说，“但我不清楚你是否已下定决心。”

将军惊讶地看着她。

“你的拒绝并非不可撤销。”

“你不认识我，斯坦利小姐。”

“我想我知道。”

“比我更了解我自己。”

“是的，如果你认为自己不会屈服，如果这样做是正确的话，那就更好了。就在此时此刻，”海伦继续说道，无视他越来越惊讶，“如果你能合理地、体面地屈服的话，你会屈服的——不是吗？如果你可以在不伤害你受监护人的财产或品格的情况下，你愿意吗？你这么坚决，难道只是为了他好？”

“当然！”他凝视着等待，身体前倾，但平静的注意力中却充满了强烈的目的。

“我听到博克勒克先生说了一些话，我想你没有注意到，”海伦说。 “当你谈到他打算为自己建造的新房子时，这栋房子耗资巨大，他提出放弃。”

“我从来没有听说过这个提议。”

“我听到了他的声音，”海伦说，“我向你保证：就是你们在房间里走来走去的时候。”

“也许是这样，我很生气 然后”将军说道。

“但你现在不生气了，”海伦说。

他笑了，事实上，他只想要一个光荣的漏洞——一种安全的离开方式，不会伤害他的被监护人——不会伤害他自己的自尊，也不会贬低监护人的尊严。海伦看到了这一点，感谢他在听她讲话时表现出的居高临下和仁慈，她尽快加快了速度，以免抓住这个缓和的时刻。她跑到露台上，看到博克勒克，他的头低垂在手臂上，靠在一只破旧的石狮子上，塞西莉亚夫人站在他旁边，表示同情。当她走近时，她听到她劝他去见将军，再跟他说话，说 so——就这么说吧。

不管是什么，海伦并没有留下来询问，而是用尽可能少的语言，将她要说的一切都告诉了塞西莉亚。并以“我是对的吗？”结束。

“完全正确，不是吗，格兰维尔？”

博克莱克抬起头来，脸上闪过一丝希望和喜悦的光芒，他感激地看了海伦一眼，向前冲去。他们跟着，但跟不上他的步伐。当他们到达画廊时，他们发现他像向父亲一样请求宽恕。

“你能原谅吗？”

“请原谅我没有听你说话，没有像你父亲那样听你说话？我亲爱的博克勒克，你太热，而我太冷；一切都会结束。”这次和解就像争吵一样迅速、热烈。然后做出了令人满意的解释，就像各方充分理解并依赖于彼此的过去、现在和未来的真相一样。

博克勒克的承诺是值得信赖的，而且出于充分的理由，他的要求并不比将军更含蓄，他承诺他只会要求如何把这座古老的森林房子装修得适合居住；他说他愿意为自己放弃新房子，直到他现在借出、花掉或浪费的数千美元——无论你用什么词——都可以从他的收入中再次积累起来。他说，这只是他自己虚荣心的牺牲，或许也是他自己的一点安慰，为了拯救一个朋友，一个人类，免遭毁灭。

“好了好了，就这样吧。”

一切都已尘埃落定，目击者在场——正如博克勒克在一部老剧中引用的那样，“有两个天使来见证”。

现在，他们心情愉快，又达到了胡言乱语的地步，他们都感到精神上愉快的放松，朋友们在经历了危险的争吵之后，在完美的和解中是明智的。他们现在离开了这座忧郁的宅邸，博克勒克是最幸福的人，慷慨地希望他能恢复这座宅邸古老的辉煌和舒适。当他们经过时，可怜的老妇人并没有被遗忘，她礼貌，希望，和恐惧：塞西莉亚夫人低声细语，聋子听到了。

“屋顶不会倒塌——一切都会好起来的：总有一个人能完成这一切。”

“好吧，好吧，我的心从一开始就倾向于他——至少从我知道他不是我少主的那一刻起。”

他们要乘水回家。船已经准备好了，当博克勒克小心翼翼地把海伦递上船时，将军说：“是的，你照顾斯坦利小姐是对的，博克勒克；至少，正如我今天早上所发现的那样，她是一位需要帮助的好朋友，”他坐在她旁边时补充道。

塞西莉亚女士很迷人，一切都令人愉快，尤其是冷鸡。

没有两个人的思维习惯比这个监护人和被监护人更不同了。克拉伦登将军在所有情况下都提到旧的经验，并且害怕创新。博克勒克的座右铭是“我的思想引领我走向新事物”。克拉伦登将军是人们通常所说的务实之人。格兰维尔·博克勒克是理论家中的佼佼者。将军善于采取行动，他的所有判断都迅速而果断，他的结论通常是正确和公正的——但如果是错误的，就没有办法纠正他；因为他不仅不愿意，而且无法回到地面——他无法用语言对他的推理过程做出任何解释——对他来说，这是正确的，而且是正确的，就足够了。 他的;而博克勒克则不在乎任何人的意见，他的错误总是如此巧妙，并且能够如此有理有据地展示他的所有推理步骤，遗​​憾的是他最终完全偏离了正确的道路。一般人讨厌形而上学，因为他认为它们超出了纪律和常识的范围：他不断地问，它们有什么用？——而达维南特夫人回答说：——

“激发和完善理解。 '这种将灵魂转向自身的方式会集中其力量，使其适合最强大和最大胆的飞行；在这样的追求中，无论我们赢还是输，追逐都是有用的。”

将军说，有可能；他不会与达维南特夫人争论这一点，但一场失败的追逐，无论多么令人振奋，他都不想参与其中：至于其余的事情，他完全讨厌讨论、怀疑和质疑。他已经“提出了他的一大堆意见”，并且不让任何人被拉出来进行检查，以免他松开了包裹。

相反，博克勒克每天都把他的木棍拖出来散落各处，每一根木棍都经过尝试、弯曲、扭曲，这样那样地，剥皮、切割、劈砍；除非证明它们的核心是完好的，否则任何一根树枝都不能放回他的包裹里，这将是一捆捆的捆，是有史以来最好的，一旦绑好，就能粘在一起——这似乎不太可能，因为每一个结都会滑落，每拉一下，所有的结都会散开。

当他进行这种分析时，正如他的监护人所认为的那样，他处于巨大的道德危险之中，因为他没有留下任何原则来祝福自己；而且，在任何紧急情况下，如果出现任何诱惑，他会怎样呢？将军非常喜欢他，但也强烈地坚持自己坚定不移的正义统治，有一次，他不仅以朋友的身份提出抗议，而且以监护人的权威来干涉。

这发生在博克勒克和他们一起在佛罗伦萨的时候，将军对塞西莉亚夫人的爱以及与她母亲的亲密关系开始了。达维南特夫人对年轻的博克勒克很感兴趣，恳求将病人留给她，并请求他的监护人不要干涉。将军更容易同意这一点，因为他的思想和感情当时更令人愉快地全神贯注，博克勒克在达维南特夫人身上找到了他最热切想要和希望的朋友——一个思想不会在任何道德危险面前退缩的人，永远不会回避任何形式的真理，而是冷静而沉着地审视它是否确实是真理，还是只是一个幻影。此外，达维南特夫人对博克勒克有一种母性的关心和仁慈，她庄严的举止和骄傲的性格更增强了这种效果。首先，她耐心地听他说话；她，会说话，会倾听：正如她所说，这是他评价她的第一个优点。他向她倾诉了所有这些疑虑，对此她足够明智，不会犯下罪行：她确信他的高尚意图，确信他的行为背后没有卑鄙的动机，没有不良的激情，没有隐藏的罪恶，也没有犯罪的倾向。他吹嘘自己没有偏见，可以通过摆脱原则的束缚来证明自己是正当的或放纵的。对于自称是年轻人的人来说，是否存在这样的危险？ 极端自由主义 通常情况下，她会和他的监护人一起忧虑；但事实上，博克勒克并不是“没有智慧的哲学家”，而是“没有智慧的好孩子”。因为，尽管他对所有原则中的正义规则提出质疑，并且当这些原则被搁置时，他的良好习惯和良好的天性却牢牢地固定住了他。达维南特夫人慢慢地让他定义了他的术语，很快就发现他只是在用新词说旧事，而那些让他眼花缭乱的新奇系统对于年长的人来说已经是陈旧的。简而言之，他只是一个过时的异端邪说的复活者，这些异端邪说在过去的各个时期被一再地提及，并一次又一次地被人类的常识所抛弃：因此，在困惑和徘徊之后，在他为自己精心打造的黑暗迷宫中，他看到了光，顺着光走，最后走出去时，惊讶地发现那是白天常见的光，也许也很遗憾。

对于像博克勒克这样的年轻热情的新手来说，拥有安全的朋友是非常重要的，他们可以私下与他们谈论自己的观点，否则他们就会公开谈论他们巧妙的废话，因此他们将自己束缚在火刑柱上，或者被束缚在火刑柱上。或为自己的愚蠢行为而殉道。

达维南特夫人保护他免受这些和所有此类危险，并且在他的外壳成型和硬化之前，她小心翼翼地防止没有人伤害他。她在确保受监护人和监护人之间的一切安全和顺利方面也做出了特殊的贡献。将军会把博克勒克的所有浪漫故事都称为德文“施瓦默里，”——不是捏造——不是欺骗——字面意思是“飙升”——有远见的热情；如果不是达维南特夫人的影响力过大，而塞西莉亚夫人的温柔和快乐，通常会成功地驱散所有严重危险的想法。

大自然从来没有打算把塞西莉亚女士当作一个操纵者，她现在永远处于背叛自己的边缘。有一天，当她单独和海伦在一起时，她惊呼道：“从来没有比我处理这件事更好的了，我亲爱的海伦！我很高兴我告诉了你——”她及时回想起自己，最后说道，“很高兴我告诉了你真相。”

“哦是的！谢谢你，”海伦说。 “我叔叔曾经说过，不说出全部真相的人不可能成为好朋友。”

“我否认这一点，”塞西莉亚想。良心感到一阵刺痛，但很轻微。除了睫毛快速闪烁之外，任何表情变化都看不出来，毫无戒心的海伦没有注意到。

现在一切都如塞西莉亚所希望的那样幸福地进行着。每天早上，他们都会骑马或骑马去老森林看看发生了什么。屋顶被匆忙地拆除了。塞西莉亚夫人赶紧采取了这项措施，因为她知道这会在一段时间内阻止家里的任何一位女士来到这里。她想要的就是拖延，现在，正如她向自己承诺的那样，把剩下的交给时间。她永远不会再干涉言语或眼神，尤其是当她母亲在旁边的时候。她忠实地履行了这一承诺的一半，但她却不断地违背了另一半。

老森林的所有改建和改进都已制定计划。博克勒克向塞西莉亚女士寻求建议和帮助。她提出了建议，但她巧妙地把帮助留给了海伦。因为每当博克勒克给她带来一张草图或一份要做的事情的计划时，塞西莉亚夫人立即把它交给海伦，并重复道：“我一生中从未画过一个固定的计划，你知道，亲爱的，你必须这样做；”因此，海伦的铅笔和她的耐心总是需要的。随后，博克勒克向她道歉，并对占用她的时间表示遗憾，所有这些都导致了塞西莉亚夫人经常去老森林来维持亲密关系，因此海伦必然参与到他目前的所有追求中。

在其中一次访问期间，他们正在查看一些旧家具，这些旧家具是贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵委托博克勒克在附近的一些拍卖会上处理掉的。有一张雕刻奇特的橡木扶手椅，属于“所有人中的老先生”，老太太特别后悔不该走。她把它缝在地毯上，当它出来时，海伦对它与她叔叔最喜欢的椅子的相似感到震惊；她想起许多痛苦的事，泪水夺眶而出。她为自己表现得如此做作感到羞愧，转过身去，以免别人看到她的眼泪，而当塞西莉亚跟在她身后，坚持要知道发生了什么事时，她立即把海伦留给了老妇人，并趁机告诉了她。博克勒克讲述了迪恩·斯坦利的故事，以及海伦如何成为女继承人和非女继承人，以及她如何决定放弃所有财产来偿还叔叔的债务。此案中也有一名监护人，但他也不同意。简而言之，环境的相似性，慷慨的脾气的相似性，她认为这一切一定会引起博克勒克的兴趣——而且确实如此。然而，如果他认为这件事是在海伦的同意或默许下透露给他的，那么他对海伦的看法就会被毁掉。塞西莉亚大人话还没说完，她就回来了，听到的几句话，让她明白了事情的全貌。她对塞西莉亚夫人投来的惊讶的脸红——愤怒的目光——使博克勒克下了决心。塞西莉亚很满意，因为她违背自己的意愿为朋友提供了良好的服务。至于她认为的手段——当他们成功时再回去考虑意味着什么。

科林伍德夫妇很高兴地接受了塞西莉亚·克拉伦登夫人的盛情邀请，因为他们都急于在出发前与海伦·斯坦利告别。他们很快就要起航，所以他们的访问时间很短。对海伦来说，这几天是痛苦的快乐——一次愉快的会面，但她却带着悲伤的感觉享受着，因为他们很快就要分开，而且要分开这么久；也许，永远。

科林伍德先生告诉海伦，如果她仍然同意他的条件，他将与律师詹姆斯先生安排，将她叔叔留给她的所有钱都用来偿还他的债务。 “但是，”他继续说道，“停下来好好考虑一下，你是否可以没有这笔钱，因为它仍然是你的；你知道，你不受任何承诺的约束，现在说你改变决定还为时不晚。”

海伦微笑道：“你这话肯定不是认真的吧？”

科林伍德先生向她保证他是的。海伦只是表示，她的决心是不可改变的。他看起来很高兴，但告别她时的最后一句话是：“亲爱的，请记住，当你放弃了你的财产时，你就无法像拥有它一样生活了。”

科林伍德一家离开了；过了一段相当长的时间，或者说是她认为合适的一段时间后，塞西莉亚女士急于查明取得了哪些进展。在博克勒克看来，或者更确切地说，在他的想象中，布兰奇·福雷斯特夫人和海伦是如何相对的。但从博克勒克脾气的坦率以及他们在国外生活的熟悉程度来看，这件事并不像她想象的那么容易决定。他的信心不是靠赢得、惊讶或强迫获得的。他不仅嫉妒自己的自由意志，就像大多数人都在恋爱一样，而且像所有有真情的人一样，他在这些事情上渴望完美的精神隐私。

当Pysche被唤醒时，应该是由丘比特独自完成的。博克莱尔还不希望她被吵醒。他欣赏、享受那种宁静；他被海伦内心完美、坦诚、单纯的性格所吸引，这与他在其他人身上看到的完全不同——如此真实。他希望能够延长他对这种纯洁友谊的希望，同时也担心一旦出现任何疑问，一切都会被蒙上阴影并发生改变。然而，塞西莉亚夫人坚信，在不知情的情况下，他已经通过友谊轻松地坠入爱河。一个非常简单方便的方法。

而海伦，她是否也踏上了那条轻松便捷的友谊之路呢？她没有去想这条路，只是觉得路很舒服，也觉得很安全，走得那么顺利、轻松。她不能把博克勒克先生视为新朋友，因为她听过太多关于他的事了。他完全就是这个家庭的一员，所以她作为这个家庭的一员，不可能把他当成陌生人。她很明白，自从他到来以来，她的幸福感增加了许多。但每个人的也是如此。他给一切注入了新的活力、新的兴趣；为生活增添了如此多的色彩；他的理智和胡言乱语各有各的优点。它们种类繁多，从崇高的形而上学到滑稽的生活现实。但大家都在责怪、赞扬、责骂、嘲笑 at或 他对所有人来说都是必需的，并且出于某种原因，他是所有人的最爱。

但将军总是像塞西莉亚夫人一样对他的过度批评和他永无休止的幻想感到不耐烦，博克勒克对每一种幻想都热切地追求，又轻易地放弃，这极大地考验了将军的平静。有一天，克拉伦登将军骑马前往老森林后，气恼地回来了。正如海伦所想，他走进图书馆，与塞西莉亚谈论他的马。

“管不了他！只要稍微限制一下他，他就会直接倒地不起。把头给他，把缰绳套在他脖子上，他就站着不动；不知道他会走哪条路，也不知道他会做什么。对于理性生物来说，这是最奇怪的家伙。”

现在很明显他说的是博克勒克。 “如此鲁莽，但又如此坚决，”将军继续说道。

“那个怎么样？”达维南特夫人说道。

“我不知道怎么回事，但事实就是如此，”将军说。 “如你所知，”向海伦和塞西莉亚女士呼吁，“他已经准备好让我彻底了解，直到他对那座破烂的老房子有自己的办法；他已经准备好了。”现在所有的工人都站在摊位上，因为博克勒克先生无法决定他将做什么或撤消什么。”

“哎哟，都是我的错啊！”海伦喊道，她想起昨天制定工作计划时没有进行最后一次修改，她感到内疚，她赶紧去找。但当她找到它时，她沮丧地发现博克勒克在上面写满了文学笔记。它的状态根本无法直视将军的眼睛。她开始尽快复印它。

“是的，”将军继续说道。 “四十种变化——不断地拖来拖去。人就不能决定吗？”

“总是和可怜的博克勒克在一起，”塞西莉亚夫人说，“le mieux est l'ennemi du bien。”

“不，亲爱的塞西莉亚，这都是他的懒惰；昨天他就坐在那里，手里拿着一本书！他脾气暴躁，懒得干自己的事。”将军说道。

“他的头脑有时太活跃了，以至于无法让他的身体活动起来，”达文南特女士说。 “因为他无法移动宇宙，所以他不会动动他的小手指。”

“他非常喜欢悖论，夫人阁下也非常喜欢他，”将军说道。 “但他很懒惰；至于心灵的活动，只是为了追求自己的幻想。”

“你的想法和他的想法不同，”达文南特夫人说。

“因为他从来不喜欢任何有用的东西，”将军说。 “就是这样！就是这样！”塞西莉亚夫人快活地喊道； “他认为他的幻想很有用，尤其是他在老森林所做的一切；但我承认他最倾向于讨人喜欢。当然，他是一个最令人愉快的生物。”

“合适的！很满足被称为一个和蔼可亲的男人！”将军愤怒地喊道； “是的，他没有野心。”

“将军，我在这一点上与你不同，”达维南特夫人说。 “他拥有的太多了：对他要有耐心；他对荣耀的愿景是有远见的。”

“确实是幻象！”将军说道。

“那些真正雄心勃勃的人，”达文南特女士继续说道，“在行动之前必须三思而后行。 “我该怎么做才能永远为人所知？”这个问题至少比大多数年轻人问自己的问题更值得思考，这些问题通常是“明天我该怎么做才能让别人知道——在草皮上或布鲁克斯——或在医生公地——或者在迷人的 Lady Nothing's 举行的一些独家派对上？”

“与此同时，我亲爱的克拉伦登，你将为这些工人的计划做些什么？”塞西莉亚女士说道，她担心接下来会发生一些长时间的讨论。

“这里是！”海伦说，她在他们谈话的时候就已经把它准备好了。她把它交给了将军，将军谢了她，就直接走了。塞西莉亚随后开始看博克勒克潦草的计划来消遣，她大声朗读笔记以逗妈妈开心。这是一部戏剧性的、形而上的、娱乐性的草图，其中六个拟议的标题已被删除，最后只剩下“乐观主义者塔奎因，或命运神殿”。这是来自劳伦修斯·瓦拉（Laurentius Valla）开始、莱布尼茨（Leibnitz）继续的一个古老故事；——她读到，

“第一幕，第一场。塞克斯图斯·塔尔文去咨询神谕，神谕预言了他将要犯下的罪行。”

“然后，”塞西莉亚女士喊道，“老森林房子的新旧正面的尺寸来了，包括翅膀。”——现在他继续玩他的游戏。

“‘塔奎文向神谕者朱庇特的抱怨——现代预定论与古代命运的比较。'

“这里，”塞西莉亚继续说道，“挪威交易的价格和一个巨大的污点，然后我们有 朱庇特的回答是，如果塞克斯图斯愿意，他可以远离罗马，从而避免厄运；但他不乐意这样做，因为他必须这样做 放弃王冠。这是关于虚荣心和人类愿望的不一致的好演讲。

“‘厨房 23 英尺 x 21 英尺。请问有炉灶吗？’

“我无法想象，我亲爱的海伦，”塞西莉亚女士继续说道，“你怎么能把这幅画画出来，”她继续读着。

“‘第三场。

“‘德尔斐的大祭司问朱庇特为什么他没有给塞克斯图斯更好的遗嘱？——为什么不让他选择放弃王冠，而不是犯罪？朱庇特拒绝回答，并派大祭司去雅典咨询密涅瓦。

“‘注意，老森林里的老妇人答应给她一个烤箱，’——”莱布尼茨给出——”

“哦！如果他去莱布尼茨，”塞西莉亚夫人说，“他对我来说就太伟大了，但对你来说就足够了，妈妈。”

“莱布尼茨在他的《命运之殿》中描绘了从最坏到最好的每一个可能的宇宙——这是在舞台上无法做到的。”

“确实如此，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “但是，海伦，听着，格兰维尔确实找到了一个巧妙的资源。”

“'假设是Ombres Chinoises；或纱帘，如《泽米尔与亚速尔》，观众可能会明白主要观点，即塔克文的错误选择产生了好结果。布鲁图斯、自由、罗马的辉煌，以及乐观主义者的最终权利。量子ED'

“好吧，好吧，”塞西莉亚女士继续说道，“我不明白；我不明白。”但我明白这一点——‘想要砖头。’”

达维南特夫人对博克勒克多才多艺的这个奇怪的例子微笑着，但她说：“我担心他会把自己的力量浪费在一百个不同的小事上，最终没有做任何值得他的能力的事情。他会分散和分割他天才的光芒，并向我们展示棱柱颜色的每一个变化——看起来很奇怪和美丽，但分散、浪费了他应该集中在某个、某个高贵物体上的光。”

“但如果他有足够的光线来照亮小物体，而且也足够大呢？”塞西莉亚女士说，“我允许，'qu'il faudrait plus d'un coeur pour aimer tant de choices à la fois；”但我真的认为格兰维尔有比必要的更多的心，他完全可以浪费一些心，即使是在老森林的老妇人身上。”

一天晚上，海伦正在翻看塞西莉亚夫人的一本漂亮的剪贴簿。博克勒克在旁边站了一会儿，以相当轻蔑的沉默看着它，最后问斯坦利小姐是否是专辑和签名的爱好者？

海伦说，她没有自己的专辑，但她总是很好奇看到名人的签名。

“为什么？”博克莱克说。

“我不知道。这似乎拉近了他们的距离。这或许让我们对它们的想象更加真实。”海伦说。

“在大多数情况下，想象可能比现实更好，”他回答道。

达文南特夫人弯下腰，越过海伦的肩膀，看着埃塞克斯伯爵的笔迹——英勇的埃塞克斯伯爵的笔迹，据她观察，女王们一看到这封笔迹，都会心潮澎湃。 “一看到那个签名，就会产生多少相关的想法啊！谁能看着它不带一丝感情呢？”

海伦不能。博克勒克用嘲讽的语气说，从斯坦利小姐对这些亲笔签名的浓厚兴趣来看，他确信她自己迟早会成为一名收藏家；但他并没有否认这一点。他毫不怀疑他应该在一座有价值的博物馆里见到她，里面应该保存着伟人的旧钢笔，例如红衣主教基吉的钢笔，他吹嘘自己用同一支钢笔写了五十年。

“你知道，通过这种夸耀，”达维南特夫人说，“让德雷茨红衣主教相信，他不是一个伟大的人，而是一个很小的人。我们不会把那支笔放在海伦的博物馆里。”

“为什么不？”博克勒克问道：“在大多数年轻女士甚至老绅士的博物馆中都可以找到如此多的文物，这非常值得。一个人无论是伟大还是渺小，只要人们谈论他，就足够了——只要他是某种意义上的人。 狮子——让属于他的任何东西对收藏家来说都很有价值，他们甚至保存和崇拜“狮子的爪子”。

那一类不分青红皂白的收藏家海伦屈服于他的嘲笑；但他仍然不满意。他接着谈到了他所称的“猎狮者”，不分青红皂白地谴责了那些急于见到名人的人。他希望斯坦利小姐不是这一类人。

“不，不是猎狮者，”海伦说。她希望自己永远不会成为那群人中的一员，但她承认她非常渴望见到和认识杰出人物，她希望这种好奇心，或者她宁愿称之为热情，并不荒谬，并且不值得与那些观光猎狮的庸俗趣味混为一谈。

博克勒克半笑了笑，但达维南特夫人没有立即回答，她说，就她而言，她并不认为这种热情是荒谬的；她认为她的热情是可笑的。相反，她很喜欢，尤其是年轻人。 “我认为年轻人对才华和美德的热烈钦佩是对成熟时期未来卓越的承诺。”

“然而，”博克勒克说，“我相信，‘不要欣赏’这句格言在哲学上是最受认可的，在实践中也是这个世界上幸福的伟大秘密。”

“在里面 结束 我知道，世界上空气很好，”达维南特女士说。 “在一群时尚的年轻梦游者中，这无疑是他们所知道的唯一能让男人快乐或让他们保持快乐的艺术；但这与哲学无关，博克勒克，尽管它与自负或矫揉造作有关。”

博克勒克先生现在很生气，他的表情和声音都充满了压抑的感情，他说，他希望夫人不要把他列入那群时髦的梦游者之中。

“我希望你不要把自己也卷入其中，”达维南特夫人回答道，“这违背了你的本性，如果你加入了 零海军 花花公子，这只能是为了时尚——纯粹是做作。”

博克勒克没有回答，达维南特夫人转向海伦，告诉她几位名人很快就会来到克拉伦登公园，并祝贺她见到他们会很高兴。 “除了非常高兴之外，这也是一个真正的优势，”她继续说道，“在生命的早期就见到并结识了优秀的人。它使人能够形成卓越的标准，并将该标准提高得更高、更明亮。对男人来说，热情变成了在艺术或军事上出类拔萃的光荣抱负；对于女性来说，它可以提炼和提升品味，并且可以防止轻浮、粗俗的交往以及她们的一系列愚蠢和恶习。我可以用我自己的回忆来讲述，当我早年认识了我那个时代的一些杰出人物时，这对我来说是巨大的幸福。”

“请问，”博克勒克说，“他们中的任何一个是否符合你对他们的期望？”

“有些远远超过了他们，”达文南特女士说。

“你很幸运。每个人都不能指望如此幸福，”博克勒克说。 “我相信，总的来说，任何时代的伟人都很少能经受住熟人的考验。无人 - ”

“饶了我吧！”达维南特夫人喊道，打断了他，因为她想象她知道他要说什么。 “哦！请原谅我那句老话：“没有人是他的男仆的英雄。”我已经无法忍受第一千次听到这样的说法了；我衷心希望这件事从来没有被说过。”

“我也是，”博克勒克回答道。但达维南特夫人已经转过身去，他现在说话的声音很低，只有海伦听到了。 “所以我讨厌这句话，不仅因为它是陈词滥调，而且因为这百年来一直是瘦下巴嫉妒和平庸的安慰。”

他拿起海伦的一支铅笔，开始剪——他看起来很烦恼，低声对她说：“达文南特女士没有让我荣幸地让我说完我的话。”

“那么，”海伦说，“如果达文南特夫人误解了你的意思，你为什么不解释一下呢？”

“不，不，如果她真的误会我了，那就不值得了。”

“但任何人都可能犯错；请解释一下。”

“不，不，”他一边说，一边非常勤奋地把铅笔切成碎片。 “你看，她已经和某人订婚了——别的事。”

“但现在她已经听完了。”

“不，不，现在不行；人太多了，没什么影响。”

这时，大家都在热切地谈论他们见过的每一位杰出人物，或者他们遗憾没有见到的每一位杰出人物。塞西莉亚女士现在呼吁每个人说出他们最想见到的现代名人之一的名字。他们一致称赞沃尔特·斯科特爵士为“北方的阿里奥斯托！”

除博克勒克外，其他所有人；他没有加入一般的声音；他带着厌恶的神情低声对海伦说：“我听腻了他被称为‘北方的阿里奥斯托’！”

“但不管他叫什么名字，”海伦说，“你肯定也想见见他吗？”

“是的，是的，我确信你们会投票，”塞西莉亚女士走到他们面前喊道，“你们，格兰维尔，比莎士比亚之后的任何作家都更愿意看到沃尔特·斯科特爵士——不是吗？”

“请原谅，相反，我很高兴我从未见过他。”

“很高兴没有见到他！——不能？“

这个单词 不能 所有的声音都以令人惊讶、难以置信的口吻重复了这句话。 “很高兴没有见到沃尔特·斯科特爵士！多么非凡啊！博克勒克先生是什么意思？

“为了让我们都盯着看，”达文南特夫人说，“所以不要满足他。不要对他感到惊奇；你知道，我们不能相信不可能的事情，只是因为它是不可能的。但是，”她笑着继续说，“我知道是怎么回事。矛盾的精神——独特的精神——你的两个使魔，格兰维尔，又占据了你，在发作期间我们必须要有耐心。”

“但我没有，也不会有耐心，”达文南勋爵说，他的好脾气很少失败，但现在他非常愤怒。

“我不知道您是否感到惊讶，亲爱的勋爵，”达维南特夫人说，“因为博克勒克先生更喜欢自己犯错，而不是与全世界一起走正确的道路，所以您不能指望他会加入大声喧哗的行列。”普遍赞扬的声音。”

“我听到了普遍咒骂的响亮声音，”博克勒克说； “你们都骂我了，可我骂谁了？我说什么了？

“没有什么。”塞西莉亚夫人回答道： “这就是我们所抱怨的。我本来可以更好地忍受任何辱骂，而不是对沃尔特·斯科特爵士漠不关心。”

“漠不关心！”博克勒克惊呼道：“塞西莉亚女士，我说什么了，你能从中推断出我感到冷漠吗？我对他的名字漠不关心，我无法不带感情地念出他的名字！全世界只有我一个人对这位卓越的、无与伦比的天才漠不关心，他长期以来一直吸引着整个读者的注意力，却随意地通过其他时代的故事来捕捉当下的秩序，而在这个我们日常生活中的这种司空见惯的现象，创造了一个假日世界，在那里，不受庸俗忧虑的干扰，我们可以陶醉在一个幻想的幸福之地，那里挤满了其他时代的人——历史上的死者的影子，比历史上的死者更显赫、更光明。在生活中！”

“是的，伟大的魔法师，”塞西莉亚喊道。

“伟大而善良的魔法师，”博克勒克继续说道，“因为他的魔法中没有任何非法手段。为了达到他的目的，我们本性中的任何一种不良激情都不会提供帮助。在他的作品中，没有私人丑闻，没有个人讽刺，没有对人性弱点的贿赂，没有对人性的诽谤。在孤独、悲伤和痛苦中，他如何安抚不安的心灵，或提升沮丧的精神！——也许在没有完全迷失美德的灵魂中煽动未熄灭的火花。他的道德不是用紫色的补丁来表现出来的，而是引人注目的，而是融入到这些东西的质地中。他描绘了人的本来面目，尽管他有所有的缺点，但也有他的救赎美德——世界的现状，及其所有补偿性的善与恶，却使每个人对自己的命运更加满意。在我们不知道如何的情况下，我们整个思想的基调都提高了——因为，他对我们同类的崇高思考，让我们对自己的思考更加崇高！”

海伦对博克勒克所说的每一句话都表示同情，她感到这是多么真实。

“——除了天才之外，还有真正的天才所在的感知力。”

“然而，经历了这一切之后，格兰维尔，”塞西莉亚夫人说道，“你会让我们相信你从来不想见到这位伟人吗？”

博克勒克没有回答。

“哦！我多么希望能见到他啊！”海伦对达维南特夫人说道，她是在场唯一拥有这种幸福的人。

“如果你看过雷伯恩令人钦佩的画作，或者查特雷的演讲半身像，”达文南特夫人回答道，“你就会对沃尔特·斯科特爵士有绘画或雕塑所能提供的最完整的了解。我记得，他的外表和举止给我的第一印象是令人惊讶的，因为他的性格安静、不做作。但这种印象刚一产生，我就被其他时候的侠义礼貌所震撼。在他的谈话中，你会发现他所有作品中最令人愉快的部分——历史学家、小说家、古董学家和诗人的才华和知识的结合。他吟诵的诗歌令人赞叹，说话时整个脸庞和身材都燃烧起来：但无论是说话、阅读还是背诵，他从不让我感到疲倦，即使是带着钦佩；奇怪的是，在与他交谈时，我经常发现自己忘记了我正在与沃尔特·斯科特爵士交谈。更令人惊奇的是，我忘记了沃尔特·斯科特爵士正在对我说话，直到他说了一些其他人无法说出的话，我才意识到这一点。总而言之，他无疑是我所认识的最令人愉快、最和蔼可亲的伟人。”

“现在，妈妈，”塞西莉亚夫人说，“请让格兰维尔诚实地承认，他愿意付出全世界来见他一面。”

“照办，达维南特夫人，”海伦说，她看到，或者说她认为自己看到了博克勒克脸上的一种奇异的情绪，并以为他正要屈服；但她却觉得自己已经到了屈服的地步。但是达维南特夫人没有看他，回答道：“不，亲爱的，我不会问他——我不会鼓励他 做作设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

听到这句话，博克勒克的眉头顿时黑了下来，他仿佛缩进了自己的壳里，那天晚上，以及第二天早餐时，他都没有再从里面出来。但是，据推测，他内心很痛苦，任何努力都对他没有任何帮助，所以每个人似乎都同意，让他一个人呆着，或者让他安静地发脾气，希望随着时间的推移，情绪会发生变化；但直到那天中午，情况才发生变化，当时海伦正坐在达维南特夫人的房间里写作，这时，门外传来两声急促的敲门声。

“进来！”达维南特夫人说道。

博克勒克先生站在门口停了下来——

“别走，斯坦利小姐。”他说道，看上去非常痛苦、羞愧，然后又骄傲，然后又感到羞愧。

“怎么了，格兰维尔？”达维南特夫人说道。

“我来是为了从我的脑海中拔掉一根刺，”他说——“两根深深地刺入，让我半夜无法入睡。也许，我应该羞于承认自己因为这些小事而感到痛苦。但事实就是如此；不过，我担心您根本看不到它们，达维南特女士。”

“我要用放大镜试试，”她说。 “把你的想象力借给我吧，格兰维尔——一个高权重的人，不要看起来那么悲惨，否则斯坦利小姐会嘲笑你的。”

“斯坦利小姐太好笑了。”

“这确实太好了，”达维南特女士说。 “好了，现在进入正题。”

“达维南特女士，昨天你对我非常不公正，而且不友善。”

“女人的话不友善；但继续吧。”

“当然，男人和女人一样，都可能会注意到‘不友善’的改变，”博克勒克说。 “他可能而且必须从一个女人和一个朋友那里感受到这一点，否则他或多或少就比男人差了。”

“格兰维尔，现在你要说些什么才不会令序言变得虎头蛇尾呢？”

“如果你谈论序言和反高潮，我不会再说了，”他喊道。 “你昨天指责我做作——两次，当时我并不比你更做作。”

“哦！这就是我的罪吗？这就是，是什么让你受到如此严重的伤害吗？这根刺已经扎得很深了！我担心，像往常一样，这种指控会更伤害人，因为它是——”

“别说‘真的’，”博克勒克打断道，“因为你真的无法相信，达文南特夫人。你了解我，了解我所有的缺点，而且我有很多缺点；但你不必指责我，因为我没有，而且我从心底里鄙视它。无论我有什么过错，它们至少都是真实的，而且是我自己的。”

“你可以允许他这样做，”海伦说。

“好吧，我愿意——我愿意，”达维南特夫人说。 “为了安抚你，可怜的受伤的无辜者；尽管世界上任何人都可能认为你此刻受到了影响。然而，我，认识你的人，知道这纯粹是愚蠢的行为。是的，是的，我免除了你的矫揉造作。”

博克莱尔的脸色立刻变得清晰起来。

“但你说你心里有两根刺——一根已经拔出来了，现在换一根。”

“现在我不觉得有什么不同了，”博克勒克说，“这只是一个错误。当我以“没有人”开始时，我不会说“没有人是他的男仆的英雄”。如果让我把话说完，那就省了很多麻烦，我想说，没有人比我更热衷于崇尚卓越，而我不想见到名人的原因是，以免幻象被驱散。

“没有任何描述能够让我们对任何人有一个准确的想法，因此，当任何一个人被大量描述和谈论时，在我们看到他们之前，我们会在我们的脑海中形成一些图像，一些我们自己的想法，这些图像总是被证明是与现实不同；当我们后来看到它时，即使它比我们的想象更公平或更美好，一开始仍然会因为与我们先前形成的观念不一致而感到失望。每个人第一次看到哈姆雷特或福斯塔夫时都会感到失望，我认为杜格尔德·斯图尔特观察到了这一点。”

“真的;我记得，”达维南特夫人说，“德拉罗什雅克兰夫人曾经对我说，‘我讨厌人们来看我。我知道这会破坏幻想。”

“是的，”博克勒克喊道。 “我多么害怕摧毁那些幸福的幻想，它们构成了生活的真正幸福。让我保留我的偶像崇拜的对象；我不会靠近神社太近；我害怕太多的光。我不会知道它们是假的！”

“那你会被骗吗？”达维南特夫人说道。

“是的，”他喊道。 “我宁愿相信塔木德的所有寓言，也不愿没有崇拜的狂喜。如此悲惨地幻灭是年龄的诅咒。超越我们所有的幻想、所有的希望。这也许是我在年老时的厄运，但是，在年轻时，在生命的春光里，我不会因为心灵过早僵化而受到诅咒。哦！宁可一万次，我宁愿现在就死！”

“出色地！但你根本就没有死亡的必要，”达维南特夫人说道，“我真的很惊讶你会因为如此轻微的原因而遭受如此之大的痛苦；如果你停下来衡量每一个轻言词，你将如何度过这个世界？

“大多数人的言语，”他回答道，“像无事的风一样从我身边掠过；但我确实权衡了我尊敬、钦佩和喜爱的极少数人的每一句话；和我的朋友们在一起，也许，我太敏感了，我爱他们那么深。”

这是脾气暴躁的借口，因为过于奉承朋友而不能轻易拒绝。就连达维南特夫人也承认这一点，海伦认为这很自然。

塞西莉亚夫人现在迫不及待地想让房子里挤满人。她给了海伦一个 目录raisonné 克拉伦登公园的所有人中，有些人是为了时髦的三天访问；有的为期一周；有些持续两周或三周，或多或少都是一样的。 “我只有一​​个固定的原则，”她说，“但是我 已可以选用 第一，在可以避免的情况下，永远不要让令人厌烦的人出现。你知道，有时这是不可能的。自己和丈夫的亲属必须有；但是，至于其余的事情，如果一个人未能遵守待客之道的第一条和最后一条格言——迎客而行，那就是自己的错了。

第一批到达的人是达维南特夫人的特别朋友，塞西莉亚好心地给了他们优先权，如果不是优先的话，她的母亲可能会很高兴见到他们，并且他们可能有幸向她告别，在她离开英国之前。

他们是政治的、时尚的、文学的；有些是社会上的优势，有些是议会的前途，有些是部长级的显赫人物——出身贵族，才华横溢。

“出身贵族”和“才华贵族”这两个词现在更多地被用作常见的对立面，而不是表示真正的差异或对比。在许多情况下，在现在活着的人中，两人都以一种为自己高兴、为国家光荣的方式团结在一起。英国可能会夸耀自己拥有年轻的贵族

“出生第一，名誉第一。”

人们在文学和科学、参议员的口才和政治家的能力方面都表现出色。

但在克拉伦登公园举行的这场聚会上，如果没有达文南特夫人在场，也许会聚集更多的文学和庆祝活动，或者也许会受到将军和塞西莉亚夫人的欢迎。塞西莉亚的美丽和优雅是所有社会中的佼佼者，将军为达文南特夫人感到高兴，并为他自己感到自豪，能够在他的家里接待这些杰出的人士。

海伦以前在塞西尔赫斯特和教区见过他们中的一些人。她叔叔的朋友们亲切地认出了她，其他人当然也礼貌地注意到了她。但如果她期望引起普遍关注或激起普遍钦佩，她就会感到失望和羞愧。那些日子已经一去不复返了，如果有的话，一位年轻女士在步入人生之际，被一眼所吸引，被第一句话所推翻，并胜利地带领着她的崇拜者队伍。这些事情现在不应该做。

然而，即使在无人注意的情况下，海伦也非常高兴。她对看到和听到这些杰出人士的期望感到非常满意，她愉快地坐着听他们的谈话，甚至不想让别人知道她理解得有多好。

年轻人有一个宝贵的时刻，如果在风华正茂的时候，刚进入社会的时候，不被期望，不被号召参与其中，他们作为旁观者，可能不仅看到了所有的戏，还看到了一切。几个月后，他们可能会比几年后学到更多的生活和人性，因为那时他们自己就是生活舞台上的演员，全神贯注于自己的角色。在激情被唤醒之前，有一段时间，理解力，连同所有的自然生命，从教育可以做的一切发展和培养中新鲜出来，立即渴望观察并能够判断，在短暂的幸福空间里具有年轻和年龄的双重优势。这段时光一旦逝去，就无法挽回；它常常被迷失——过早的虚荣，或过早的放荡！

海伦主要是受一个男人教育的，而且是一个非常明智的男人，就像迪安·斯坦利在除了金钱问题之外的所有事情上一样。在他男性的关怀下，虽然她的思想在某些方面得到了推进，但在另一些方面却被抑制了；虽然她的理解力得到了培养，但它是在没有模仿或竞争的情况下完成的；不是通过触及骄傲的源泉，而是通过打开纯粹快乐的源泉；她现在享受着这种纯粹的快乐，感谢那位亲爱的叔叔。为了她所拥有的无与伦比的朴素优雅，有多少母亲、家庭教师和年轻女士自己，当她们看到它有多么迷人时，愿意用一半的成就，所有的成就，如此辛苦地获得！

博克勒克对伦敦的女性世界有所了解，无论是从他的自然品味还是从对比来看，他都对海伦新鲜而真诚的性格感到满意，他同情她所有沉默的快乐。他从不打断她对伟大星星的热情沉思，但他会时不时地抓住休息时间，将她的观察结果与他自己的观察结果进行比较。急于想知道她是否像他一样估计了它们的相对大小和距离。这些短暂的比较和证明他们的观察一致的时刻，或者检查他们意见分歧的原因的乐趣，增强了这辉煌的两周的乐趣；没有一丝云彩遮蔽那深沉的宁静。

尽管博克勒克说了很多极其精炼的废话，说他不想见到杰出人物，但正如海伦现在所意识到的那样，没有人能比他更享受这一点。她还看到，在所有这些有才华的人中，他被认为是一个有前途的人。但有一些事情，也许是非常轻微的事情，却让她对他的印象更加深刻，因为它们表现出了性格的优越性。她观察了他在这支连队中对待将军的态度，他自己在这支队伍中占据了“有利地位”——现在与旧森林之战中的情况截然不同，当时只有人对人，病房对监护人。在这些尊贵的人面前，有一种眼神——一种尊敬的语气，既非常亲切又礼貌。

“真是慷慨啊，”塞西莉亚女士对海伦说。 “是不是？”海伦同意了。

正如海伦所想，这辉煌的两周结束得太早了，但塞西莉亚女士已经受够了。 “他们明天早上都要走，我并不为此感到遗憾，”晚上，她在海伦房间的一张扶手椅上坐下来说道。打了个清爽的哈欠后，她惊叹道：“太高兴了，太高兴了！正如你所说，海伦，一切都过去了；但我不确定如果我吃得更多的话我会不会很累。哦！是的，我对他们都很佩服，但是整天佩服也太累了。仰视的态度本身就让身心疲惫不堪。妈妈永远不会疲倦，因为她永远不必抬头；她总是可以往下看，那是那么伟大，那么容易。她不知道我那颗可怜的心此刻有多痛；还有我可怜的眼睛！用过量的光进行爆破。海伦，我无法想象你的身体是如何经受得住的！他们一定比我强多少。我必须承认，如果没有时不时的音乐、阿卡泰舞和卡德里尔舞曲的舒缓，尽管它很糟糕，我今晚绝对不可能活着或醒着。但是，”她从椅子上站了起来，喊道，“你知道霍勒斯·丘吉尔明天会留下来吗？他比他原计划多待了一天，这是对他的称赞！海伦，你知道他如何评价你的眼睛吗？——它们是他交谈过的最好的听众。不过，亲爱的，我还是要警告你，我相信他是一位风骚的男性。虽然他年纪不小了，但他却深知精心梳洗的种种好处。就像伊丽莎白女王时代的乔治·赫伯特一样，他拥有“一种优雅的着装幽默”。他依然英俊潇洒，他的美好身材，他的美好感情，他的美好财富，让两三颗心都碎了；尽管如此，我还是很高兴他留下来，尤其是为了你的缘故他留下来。”

“以我的名义！”海伦惊呼。 “你难道没有看到，从丘吉尔先生不幸被安排在我身边吃饭的第一天起，他就彻底鄙视我：他确实开始和我说话，但他的句子没有说完，他的好故事没有讲完。 ，就在他引起了一位更伟大的审计师的注意的那一刻。”

塞西莉亚夫人看到了这一点，对一个有教养的男人居然在虚荣中忘记了自己感到惊讶。但她观察到，这只是第一天；此后他对海伦的态度彻底改变了。

“是的，当他看到达文南特夫人时，他认为我值得和我谈谈。但毕竟，他不知道该对我说什么是很自然的。我只是一个年轻的女士。我免除了他对我的所有特殊粗鲁行为，因为我确信丘吉尔先生真的不能只为一个微不足道的听众讲话，不能展示他的好东西，除非他感到有把握吸引整个餐桌的注意力，所以我很原谅他。”

“在这次宽恕的诅咒之后，我亲爱的海伦，我会祝你晚安，”塞西莉亚女士笑着说道。她退了出去，担心先生们之间不会有足够的嫉妒，或者海伦不知道如何让他们互相对抗。

看到一大群人散去，我们感到很高兴；当别人离开时，留在后面：——胆怯的人会感受到优势和快乐，因为他们不会把自己的品格抛在身后；并因讽刺而感到高兴，因为逝者和离去的人物被抛在了身后，这对他们来说是公平的游戏。对于这一优势，没有人能比丘吉尔先生更明智、更迅速、更熟练地利用这一优势：因为他深知，虽然机智可能会失败，但幽默却不能被接受——尽管即使是奉承也可能会让人感到厌烦。丑闻、讽刺和讽刺，对于能力最低的人来说是永不枯竭的资源，有时对于能力最高的人来说也是如此。

今天早上，在克拉伦登公园的图书馆里，他看着窗外离开的客人，当每个人开车离开时，他都给了每个人他的 政变。对于新来的海伦来说，看到每个人，甚至是下一个离开的人，如何享受摧毁那些刚刚离开的人，真是太棒了。他们对命运视而不见，大笑，鼓掌，舔着刚刚举起来打自己的手。第一个去的人是——“最受尊敬的人，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “A 家庭母亲设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“最值得尊敬的人！”贺拉斯重复道——“最值得尊敬的人，老教练等等。”然后，当另一队人开车离开时——“不用担心这里有任何真正值得尊敬的事情。”

“霍勒斯，你怎么能这么说呢？——她是如此和蔼可亲，又如此聪明。”

“好聪明？也许只是一种过于喜欢英国式的自由和法国式的服饰的想法。 咖啡豆设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“波萨德！ 英国出生、教养最好的女性之一！”塞西莉亚夫人喊道； “好的咖啡， 我允许。”

“塞西莉亚女士是 我是美丽的朋友的发型，我知道我不能对她说一句话，直到——时尚发生变化。但是，听着！我听到了一个我永远不想听到的声音。”

“然而没有人更值得听——”

“哦！是的，蓝调女王——蓝魔！”

“嘘！”副官喊道：“她要进来告辞。”

然后，当蓝魔女王入场时，丘吉尔先生以最谦卑、恭敬的方式恳求道：“尊敬的——我相信您的恩典会给我一个恩惠——请正义地向你们的所有人记住我，他们——我很荣幸能够记住我——”然后，当她离开房间时，他转身笑了起来。

“哦！你这个可悲的、虚伪的人！”旁边的那位女士喊道依次要走。 “丘吉尔先生，我声明，虽然我在笑，但我很害怕在您之前走开。”

“害怕的！恶意或嫉妒本身会对您的女士有何评价， 完好 就像你一样？-完好无损！”当她开车离开时，他重复道，“完好无损！——这个绰号选得好，我沾沾自喜！”

“是， 完好——毫发无伤——超越诽谤的气息，”塞西莉亚女士喊道。

“我知道，所以我这么说，”丘吉尔回答道，“忠诚是经受住一切诱惑的——它曾经受到过任何诱惑；而她的丈夫是——”

“我的近亲，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “总的来说，我对丑闻并不拘谨，”她笑着继续说道。 “‘一只鸡也可能对我有好处’，但狐狸不能在家里捕食。没有人应该袖手旁观，听到自己的亲属受到虐待。”

“一千个赦免！我太依赖那条普遍的格言——诽谤越接近骨头，就越甜言蜜语。”

“废话！”塞西莉亚女士说。

“我的意思是，心越近，责备就越重。对表亲的削减可能会出错——但是对亲密的朋友——哦！我是如何战胜最好的朋友的？当然，一直在骂，还骂是怪物。但斯蒂芬先生正在向您鞠躬。”然后，当塞西莉亚夫人从窗户亲吻他的手时，丘吉尔继续说道：“顺便说一句，没有任何丑闻，我认真地听到一些事情——我很担心——他最近不太热衷于学习，而更多地投入到学习中。” ———的闺房。这绝对不可能是真的！”

“绝对是假的，”塞西莉亚女士说。

“每呼吸一次，名誉就会消失，”博克莱克说。

“我的天啊，这是真的！”副官说。 “不管怎样，霍勒斯一直在继续，用他的智慧开火，噗，噗，噗！直到他入袋为止——有多少支撑？

贺拉斯轻蔑地转过身去，看向达维南特夫人这段时间可能在哪里。

丘吉尔担心，达文南特夫人正全神贯注地坐在房间的另一头看报纸。当他走近时，她把它放下，说道：

“其中一些报纸已经变得多么可耻，但这是时代品味的错。 “那些为了取悦他人而生活的人，也必须取悦他人而生活。”

霍拉斯不确定自己是否被割伤，但他很镇定，不让自己看起来受伤。他走近达维南特夫人，坐下来，拿起一本书，仿佛厌倦了愚蠢的行为，他只是屈尊俯就，坐下来读书，然后坐下来思考，书挂在他的手上。

他将这些深刻思想的成果呈现给公众，而不是呈现给副官；不再有那些小智慧的弹丸——但现在被带出了理性和哲学。现在，他以更高的语气回顾了文学、哲学和政治世界，在他描绘的人物和他的反思中融入了拉布吕耶尔和罗什福柯的风格；他还带着一种感伤悔悟的神情，为自己的洞察力和良好的道德感所感动，这迫使他看到这些君子的错误，并为之恼怒。

他对每个人的分析确实很完美，在某一方面没有半点坏处，而是与善分明，干净利落地呈现在公众面前。作为一名解剖学家，他表现出了对大脑和心脏的了解，对所有疾病的了解如此令人钦佩，并且以如此熟练的手处理探针和手术刀！

“嗯，这真的很舒服，”达维南特勋爵说着，向后靠在扶手椅上——“真正的英国式舒适，可以轻松地坐着，看着自己所有的朋友被如此精心地解剖！很高兴地感到我们对邻居有责任看到他被精心解剖——为了社会的利益而被巧妙地解剖；当我离开时——当我的时刻到来时——这是必然的，除了丘吉尔教授之外，没有人能碰我。知道我将被雕刻成适合神的盘子，而不是被砍成猎犬的尸体，这将是一种满足。所以现在记住，塞西莉亚，我请你见证——我在此，以健康的身心，留下并遗赠我的性格，连同我所有的缺陷和不足，以及所有和任何奇怪的心灵疾病，其中我可能会被着魔而死，为了他，我希望同样的人——我的好朋友霍勒斯·丘吉尔医生，道德、哲学和丑闻解剖学教授，为了社会的利益而被他随意解剖。”

“非常感谢，我的好大人；我接受你的遗产是为了荣誉——而不是礼物的价值，每个人都必须明白这没什么，”丘吉尔礼貌地鞠了一躬——“绝对没什么。我将永远无法利用它。”

“尝试——尝试，我亲爱的朋友，”达文南特勋爵回答。 “努力吧，别谦虚。”

“当如此杰出时，这将是困难的，”博克勒克说道，带着令人钦佩的骄傲谦逊的表情。

“当然是尊敬的霍勒斯·丘吉尔先生，”达文南特夫人从报纸后面看着他说道。 “在这个丑闻盛行的时代，他在众多竞争对手中脱颖而出；他确实将艺术提升到了科学的尊严。讽刺、丑闻和流言蜚语，现在齐头并进——这三种新的美德：都处于同一崇高的地位——这三种，以前被认为是截然不同的，最后一个留给我们的劣等性别，但现在，可以肯定的是，男性的八卦并不是什么责备。”

“哦，达维南特女士！——男性八卦——多好的表情啊！”

“多么现实啊！”

“男性八卦！——”Tombe sur moi le ciel！’”丘吉尔喊道。

“”我要复仇”，总是明白，”达文南特夫人追问； “但是丘吉尔先生，为什么这么害怕八卦的指责呢？它非常时尚，如果是这样，那就相当受人尊敬，你知道，而且按照你的风格相当宏伟。

“而八卦令人惊奇的是，自己竟然如此优秀——

“恶意，只要被人看见，就可以被憎恨，但现在，当它打扮得很优雅时，我们会毫无羞耻或邪恶地看待它；我们逐渐喜欢上它——如此有趣、如此优雅、如此精致。当罪恶失去一半的粗俗时，它就失去了所有的畸形。过去，当我们的朋友被撕成碎片时，人们就会谈论人性，但现在，整个行动都弥漫着哲学的香气，我们无法抗拒地被吸引。我们多么感谢像丘吉尔先生这样的人，他们让我们感到羞辱美德！

当达维南特夫人被她的主人召唤离开房间时，他深深地鞠了一躬，而他站在那里，就像一个被谴责但不悔罪的人。

“如果我没有得到很好的判决，”门关上时他说道，“并做出了‘感到有损美德！”——但是，既然塞西莉亚夫人对此忍不住微笑，我就被无罪释放了，并被鼓励一有机会就再次犯罪。但达文南特夫人不会在场，达文南特勋爵也不会在场。”

塞西莉亚夫人坐下来写了一张纸条，丘吉尔先生在房间里走来走去，对这些照片进行了批判性的观察，就像其他事情一样，他是这些照片的最高评判者。最后，他把眼睛和望远镜放在一张大理石桌子上的某个东西上，这个东西特别吸引了他的注意。

“漂亮的！”塞西莉亚女士说，“它们很漂亮不是吗？——尽管现在到处都厌倦了它们——那些鸽子！”

“鸽子！”丘吉尔说：“我最欣赏的是手套，不是吗，斯坦利小姐？”他指着一双旧手套说道，这副手套已经皱巴巴的，挤在一起，堆放在美丽的大理石上，形成相当难看的一团。

“可怜的V医生——”海伦对塞西莉亚喊道。 “那个可怜的V博士——一如既往地缺席！他走了，而且忘记带手套了！”

“缺席的！哦，一如既往！”塞西莉亚女士继续写着她的便条说，“世上最缺席的人。”

“我认为 V 博士身上有太多这样的东西——”丘吉尔继续说道：“一种心不在焉的感觉，给人一种高度抽象的想法，足以成为一个有学问的人；”但它应该只是轻微的，作为 怀疑 胭脂，可能会成为漂亮的女人；一切都取决于管理这些事物的尺度和品味。”

“没有任何管理，没有任何 穿上 “V博士……”海伦急切地喊道，脸色涨得通红。 “无论是什么，他的一切都是完全真诚、真实的。”

博克勒克放下书本。

“一切都千真万确！你真的这么认为吗，斯坦利小姐？”丘吉尔微笑着说道，目光居高临下。

“我确实愿意，”海伦喊道。

“迷人——这么年轻！我多么喜欢这种清新的心态啊！”

“无礼的家伙！博克勒克觉得我可以把他击倒。

“你认为V博士——的所有谦逊都是真实的吗？”丘吉尔说。 “是的，完美！”海伦说； “但我并不奇怪你对此感到惊讶，丘吉尔先生。”

她的意思是不 恶意，尽管有那么一会儿他以为她是这么做的；他在博克勒克的微笑下皱起了眉头。

“我毫不奇怪，任何不认识V博士的人都会对他的谦逊感到惊讶，”海伦补充道。

“你确定谦卑不是骄傲的表现吗？”丘吉尔问道。

“对，很确定！”

“然而——”丘吉尔说（将他恶意的手指伸进医生手套拇指上的一个大洞）“我本该幻想我透过这些手套上的洞看到了虚荣，就像透过古代哲学家的斗篷一样。”

“贺拉斯是一个以挑剔和大肆利用漏洞而闻名的家伙，斯坦利小姐，你瞧，”副官说。

“虚荣！ V博士——没有虚荣心！”海伦说：“如果你认识他就好了。”

“没有虚荣心！斯坦利小姐指的是谁？副官喊道。 “没有虚荣心？那挺好的。 WHO？霍拉斯？”

“莫韦普莱森特！”贺拉斯把他放在一边，幸运的是，他并没有轻易失去表情，他继续对海伦说：

“你也赞扬这位好医生，因为他所做的一切 奈韦特？”丘吉尔说。

“他不想因此而获得荣誉，”海伦说，“他确实拥有这样的荣誉。”

“我希望我能像你一样看待事情，斯坦利小姐。”

“让他看看，海伦，”塞西莉亚女士喊道，她看着他们旁边的一张桌子，桌上放着一幅立体版画，这些版画看起来都是混乱的线条，直到你从正确的角度看它们。 “向他表明——这一切都取决于获得正确的视角，看角色也同样如此。”

“巧妙！”丘吉尔说道，试图抓住正确的位置； “但我不能，我拥有——”然后突然继续说道，“纳维特在十五岁的时候就让我着迷，”他的眼睛看了一眼海伦，然后收回，然后回到他的观点，“十八岁也许可以，”他的目光再次转向海伦，“十八岁——这让我着迷。”他的目光停留在了这里。 “但是过了五十岁，接近六十岁的天真就完全是另一回事了，对我来说实在是太难受了。我喜欢一切当季的东西，最重要的是，简单是不耐久留的。我对我们博学而优秀的朋友怀有最大的敬意，但我希望这能以任何方式向他建议，并且他能放下这种不合时宜的简单性。”

“他不能抛开他的本性，”海伦说，“我很高兴，这是多么好的本性。”

“他是个心地善良的人，我从来没有听他说过任何人的严厉的话。”塞西莉亚女士说道。

“他一定是一个多么可爱的人啊！”贺拉斯说道，脸上的表情让在场的所有人，甚至海伦，都忍不住笑了。 “我确信，他的心始终在正确的地方。我只希望有人能对他的假发说同样的话。如果他有时（斯坦利小姐，我不会对他太严厉），假设是两周一次——刷过，或者让人刷过他的那件外套，那会不会有什么问题呢？

“我想，贺拉斯，你为他掸去了夹克上的灰尘，这是出了名的。”副官说道。

就在这时，门开了，医生亲自走了进来。

塞西莉亚夫人伸出手，手里拿着纸条，门打开时，她心想，她应该会看到她为他按铃的仆人进来了。

“我的好朋友们，是什么让你们如此惊讶，”医生停下来，用他天生的单纯来环顾四周。

“我亲爱的医生，”塞西莉亚女士说，“只是我们都以为你走了——仅此而已。”

“我并没有离开，仅此而已。我留下来写信，来这里是为了寻找——但我找不到——我的——”

“也许，医生，您正在寻找您的手套，”丘吉尔向前走去，带着对手套和手套主人最大的尊重和体贴的神情，他把它们递了过去。然后握着医生的手，用一种善良的灵魂认为真正的英国人的热情，然后把他打发出去，补充道，“他是多么自豪能够结识他，——再见，他希望，在公园巷。”

「哎哟你这个奸诈——！」 “贺拉斯，”这位毫无戒心的哲学家一走开，塞西莉亚夫人就转向贺拉斯喊道。 “实在是太可惜了！如果他不是现存最头脑简单的人，他一定从你的表情中看到了、怀疑到了一些东西；如果医生早点进来，听到你的声音，你会怎么样——我真的很害怕。”

“受惊！我也是，几乎失去理智。”丘吉尔说道。 “亡命之徒 总是让人害怕；他们从来没有听到过任何关于自己的好话，因此我制定了一条原则，一旦我离开一个房间，尤其是挤满了朋友，就永远——永远不会回去。我的手套，我的帽子，我的外套，我会离开，以免失去我的朋友。有一次，我听到一个比我们任何人都更了解这个世界和人性的人说过这句话——有一次我听到这句话是开玩笑地说的，但我严肃地说，我不会因为超过我的价值而被安置，没有他知道这一点，而且在我最好的朋友的耳边。”

“他能成为你什么样的好朋友呢？”博克莱克喊道。

“我想，很像其他人的朋友，”霍勒斯回答道，语气完全是若无其事——“很像其他人最好的朋友。我猜想，如果一个人生活在我们生活的世界里，他就会发现更糟糕的事情。”

“在我相信或怀疑任何这样的事情之前，我可以离开这个世界吗？”博克莱克喊道。 “与其让罗马诅咒降临在我身上，‘愿你在所有朋友和亲戚中幸存！’”愿我死一千次！”

“谁用如此甜美的声音——如此响亮的声音谈论死亡？”贺拉斯用他平静而有教养的语气说道，这激怒了他。 “就我而言，有幸与您交谈的我可以夸耀，自从我有多年的谨慎（当然，算上新风格，从十三岁开始）以来，我从未失去过一个朋友，一个真诚的朋友——从来没有，出于这个无可辩驳的理由——自从我十几岁以来，我从来没有像一个新手那样幻想我发现了这一点 自然之美，一个非常真诚的朋友。”

“我多么可怜你啊！”博克勒克喊道：“如果你是认真的；但说实话你不可能。”

“请原谅我，我可以，而且我就是。博克勒克先生，如果您不怜悯我的话，您真的会帮我的忙：因为，考虑到这个世界上的所有事情，”霍勒斯·丘吉尔说，挺起身子，“我不认为我是一个被统治的对象。遗憾。”然后，他转身走开，然而，过了半刻，他意识到自己把自己摆得太高了，一时之间，他的脾气破坏了他的语气，也暴露了他的神情和举止。自夸，近乎荒谬。他急于修复错误。

加里克在他的名气和敏感度达到顶峰时，并不比霍勒斯·丘吉尔更急于避免嘲笑——以防止可怕的微笑。当他走开的时候，他感觉到身后那些他留下的人都在默默地微笑。

塞西莉亚夫人在劳累之后，倒在沙发上休息。 话术。他停了下来，靠在她斜倚的沙发靠背上，重复了一句意大利语，其中有“帕沃内贾尔西设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“我亲爱的塞西莉亚女士，您对意大利语的理解和感受如此之好，他们的一些话多么富有表现力！ 帕沃内贾西！——无法翻译。一个人不能用英语说好，孔雀自己。使自己像孔雀一样平淡；但 帕沃内贾尔西——动作、激情、画面，三合一！为自己打扮是最接近它的；但这个词在英语中无法给出，甚至不能给出对应词；它也不能被自然化，因为事实上我们没有这种感觉。英国人太骄傲而不能自夸，太害羞而不能趾高气昂；如果曾经他 孔雀本人，那是一时的愤怒，而不是表现出来的。每个国家的语言，”他提高了声音继续说道，以便能听到达维南特女士的声音，达文南特女士随后回到了房间，因为他不想浪费对塞西莉亚女士的哲学观察，“每个国家的语言在某种程度上，是其特征和行为方式的证据、记录和历史。”然后，他的声音几乎压低到耳语，但非常清晰，说话时转身，以确保斯坦利小姐听到——“今天早上你年轻的朋友的本性让我着迷——本性，现在是最不寻常的东西，一个真正的自然女人；当美丽的时候，多么迷人！当一个人遇见的时候是多么的美味 心积液：也是一位年轻的女士，她说着纯正的英语，而不是同时掌握多种语言；你的朋友也是有教养的，因为一个人不喜欢无知，如果一个人能够不假装地拥有知识——那么很难找到中庸之道！——而如果一个人能够找到它，一个人可能不会更接近——”

塞西莉亚夫人听着最后一句话，但没有人听到。一切都以一声叹息结束，随她怎么解释。博克莱尔现在坐在斯坦利小姐旁边的凳子上，看了一眼，似乎指出了这个意思：但塞西莉亚女士太了解她的男人了，无法理解他。

博克勒克坐在脚凳上，向海伦展示他正在读的书中的一些段落。她全神贯注地读书，时不时地抬起头来，脸上带着智慧和赞许的微笑。贺拉斯听不见，他更好奇了，当这本书放下时，他漫不经心地打开了其他书，然后又拿起了它。他非常惊讶地发现这既不是小说，也不是诗歌：许多段落都用铅笔标注了赞同的内容，他理所当然地认为这些是布劳克莱克的；他错了，它们是达维南特夫人的。她坐在工作台前。霍勒斯手里拿着书走近了。这本书不符合他的风格，它更科学，而不是文学——它更多的是为后人而不是为今天。他只是像文学家翻阅科学书籍一样翻阅它，以抓住可能用于新明喻或良好典故的内容。此外，在他的哲学朋友中，人们谈论这本书，如果对它有足够的了解，有话可说，那就太好了，他说得很好，非常好。 明智地 他在选民中赞扬了它；但现在他却想尽全力贬低它。并不是说他现在比以前更不喜欢这位作者或这部作品，而是他很幽默地站在博克勒克的对立面，所以他轻蔑地将书从博克勒克手中扔掉了“在我看来，这是一件有点仓促的事情， “他说。博克勒克双眼冒火，惊呼道：“轻微！急！这是最崇高、最扎实的工作！”

“你的意见很坚定，”丘吉尔说道，脸上带着恭敬的微笑，略带冷笑。

“我们只能给出自己的意见，”博克勒克说。 “在我看来，这是对自然哲学进步的最好的看法，在对过去的判断和对未来的预见方面是最广泛、最公正的；丰富的实验知识及其理论发明，是自培根时代以来任何人最伟大的著作。”

“培根也在你的保护之下吗？”

“保护！我的保护？”博克勒克说。

“抱歉，我只是想问一下，你是不是那些向维鲁拉姆大人发誓的人之一。”

“我不向任何人发誓，我根本不发誓，尤其是在哲学话题上；咒骂不会增加信仰，”博克勒克说。

“我的立场是正确的，”丘吉尔说，“我会更进一步，并补充说，在辩论中，热情对理性毫无帮助——尽管我很钦佩，正如我们大家都钦佩的那样，”瞥了一眼斯坦利小姐，“这种热情支持了辩论。工作已被提倡！”

“我情不自禁地热情地说，”博克勒克喊道。 “这是一本激发热情的书；它充满了一种高贵的精神，如此纯洁，远离琐碎的激情，远离一切庸俗的嫉妒，一切低俗的关心！有人说，判断一本书的好坏，要看你放下它时它在你脑海中留下的印象；这本书经受住了这个考验，至少对我来说，我怀着这样的愿望放下它——尽管它指明了道路，但我仍要遵循仍然不平等的步骤。”

“好极了！勇敢！听他的，听他的！印他，印他！从作者到作者的热压，热压！”丘吉尔喊道，他笑了。

就像一个人突然从热情的恍惚中被冷酷的嘲笑惊醒一样，博克勒克站在那儿，从天上降到了地上，听到那可怕的小笑声，而不是发自内心的笑声。

“但我的荒谬并不会让我的事业变得如此，这是一种安慰。”

“亲爱的格兰维尔，你可能还有另一个安慰，”达文南特夫人说，“嘲笑并不是真理的检验；而是真理的检验。”真理应该以嘲笑来检验。”

“但是书在哪儿呢？”博克莱尔继续说道。

海伦把它给了他。

“现在，丘吉尔先生，”博克勒克说。 “我真的很着急，我知道你是一个很好的批评家，你能告诉我这些缺点吗？对于那些本身表现出色的人来说，责备和赞扬总是很有价值的。”

“你太棒了，”丘吉尔说。

“那你能帮我指出错误吗？”

“哦，决不，”丘吉尔喊道，“不要注意到我，不要引用我，我什么都不是，我不能放弃我的权威。”

“但事实就是我想要了解的一切，”博克勒克说。

“让她在井底休息吧，我亲爱的先生；她就在那里，而且她将永远在那里，依靠它，我们的绞车永远不会把她拉上来。”

“像这样的作者，”博克勒克继续说道，“如果能纠正任何错误，他一定会很高兴的。”

“每个作者都会这么告诉你，但我从来没有见过一个人在勘误表时一脸茫然的——如果你知道有多少人因此而受到感谢的话！”

“但现在你会得到感谢，”博克勒克说，“至少是风格上的缺陷。”

“不，我不是批评家，”丘吉尔说道，他对自己的文学洞察习惯充满信心。 “但如果你问我的话，”他一边说，一边轻蔑地前后摇晃树叶，“现在就这样！”和“现在就在这里！” “我们不应该称之为好的写作——你不能认为这是正确的吗？我可能是错的，但我不应该使用这个短语。几乎不是英语——口语化，我想；而这种尴尬的绝对绝对——现在从未被承认过。”

“谢谢你，”博克勒克说，“这些错误很容易改正。”

“你说，很容易修补？我说，最好再做一个新的。”

“谁可以？”博克勒克说。

“你看到了多少错误，”海伦说，“除非你指出来，否则我永远不会发现这些错误，现在我很遗憾知道这些错误。”达文南特夫人微笑着看着海伦真诚的屈辱的表情，与此时此刻丘吉尔先生满意的批评自豪的神情形成鲜明对比，达文南特夫人说道：

“为什么抱歉，我亲爱的海伦？人类的工作不可能是完美的；丘吉尔先生可能会为自己的眼睛感到自豪，因为他的眼睛在如此强大的光线下可以数出斑点。但究竟是最好地利用他的眼睛，还是最好地利用光线，还有待考虑。”

丘吉尔发现达维南特夫人反对他，并与格兰维尔·博克勒克站在同一边，这让丘吉尔感到无比愤怒——他们都不习惯在自己的社会中发生矛盾，而他长期以来在社会中处于至高无上的地位，他觉得意见分歧如此顽固地维持着作为一种个人侮辱。

对于像博克勒克这样年轻的人来说，尚无名气，不仅要挑战战斗而且要取得胜利，这是令人难以忍受的。更重要的是，因为他的年轻对手似乎并没有表现出任何兴奋或惊讶，而是似乎很满意地将他的成功归功于他事业的善良。

迄今为止，丘吉尔一直明智地管理着他在时尚界和文学界的巨大赌注和自负。除了评论中的一两篇巧妙的文章或警句之外，他从未真正发表过任何东西，这些文章都归功于他，但没有得到承认。由于避免给出自己的衡量标准，人们相信他是最受公开审判的人——人们总是说——“如果霍勒斯·丘吉尔愿意出版，他将超越我们这个时代的所有其他作家。”

因此，丘吉尔害怕并憎恨所有可能接近时尚王座，或干涉他在伦敦某个文学界的独裁统治的人，从这一刻起，他开始真诚地厌恶博克勒克——他以轻蔑但又嫉妒的眼光看待他。眼睛；但他的嫉妒是出于虚荣，而不是出于爱。它首先考虑的是达维南特夫人和他的时尚声誉，其次才是海伦。

达维南特夫人观察着这一切，她很想知道海伦看到了多少，以及这在她心里引起了多大的兴趣。一天早上，当他们单独在一起，看着一柜子的浮雕时，达文南特夫人指着一件她认为像博克勒克先生的浮雕。海伦没有看到相似之处。

“人们对相似之处的看法非常不同，”达文南特女士说。 “但是你和我，海伦，通常用同样的眼睛看到人物，即使不是面孔。我一直在想这两位先生，丘吉尔先生和博克勒克先生——您认为哪一位最令人愉快？

“先生。丘吉尔当然很有趣，”海伦说，“但我认为博克勒克先生的谈话更有趣——尽管丘吉尔先生有时很令人愉快——当——”

“当他奉承你的时候，”达文南特夫人说。

“当他不讽刺时——我想说，”海伦说。

“丘吉尔先生身上有一种持续不断的小聪明，也有一种微不足道的努力，”达文南特夫人继续说道，“这让我感到疲倦——火花不断地迸发出来，但随后你会听到燧石的撞击声，火绒盒的叮当声。 ”

海伦虽然承认有火绒盒，但认为这个比较太低级了。她认为丘吉尔的不只是火花。

“好吧，烟花，如果你愿意的话，”达文南特夫人说，“它升起、燃烧、爆裂、坠落，然后把你留在黑暗中，还带着难闻的气味；这就是全部 烟花 毕竟。现在在博克勒克，艺术太少，自然太热情。我的一些法国朋友对丘吉尔先生都了解，他们这样评价丘吉尔先生：“巴黎的精神，“这是巴黎人所能给予的最高赞美，但他们承认博克勒克有”美丽的加德梅'”。

“是的，”海伦说。 “多么优越啊！”

“有人说，”达文南特夫人继续说道，“通过行为来判断一个人比通过言语来判断更安全，但是生活中的行为很少，而言语却很多；如果女性能够利用每天、每时每刻的机会通过言语来评判他人，她们就能了解人的自然性格，或者，同样重要的是，她们就能洞察后天习得的习惯。海伦，你面前有两项很好的研究。”

海伦全神贯注地确信博克勒克已经订婚了，几乎是一个已婚男人，并且像她一样，认为丘吉尔一定认为她完全不受他的注意，她听了达文南特夫人的评论，就像她会做的那样对小说或舞台上的两个角色的观察。

由于丘吉尔无法立即表达他对博克勒克的仇恨，因此它在内心产生了更大的影响。这一夜他没睡好，早上起来的时候，他就发现有事了。紧张、暴躁——这是不可能的；——日常的（一个法语单词解决了一切）——日常的 他承认他是这样；他对此颇为自豪，因为他被允许如此证明了他的力量——他的财富和才华相结合的特权。

在伦敦世界的激烈竞争中，并不是每个人都可以随心所欲地开心或不开心。但是，由于一系列罕见的情况，丘吉尔确立了他任性的特权。他被允许有他的坏日子和他的好日子，最高层的人和最优秀的人微笑着，并屈服于他的“喜爱与耻辱的印记;”当他生气、粗鲁或暴躁时，他称这只是霍勒斯·丘吉尔的风格。他们甚至为他的喜好和厌恶感到自豪。 “贺拉斯和我们在一起时总是很迷人。”——“和我在一起，你根本不知道他有多么令人愉快。”——“事实上，我必须公正地说，除此之外我从未发现过他。”——宠爱允许他随心所欲地粗鲁，只是宠溺他，并向那些徒劳地叹息让他参加聚会的人讲述他的奇怪行为。但达文南特夫人不是一个会宠爱或溺爱任何年龄的孩子的人，而且对于将军来说，丘吉尔先生也不是特别讨人喜欢——不是他那种人；而对于优雅、美丽、时尚的塞西莉亚夫人来说，他的幽默只是娱乐而已，她愉快地、欢笑着地忍受着他。

“这样的天气啊！”他用抱怨的语气喊道。 “在这样的天气里，一个人怎么会有理智呢？有外国人说，英国恶劣的气候对其良好的体质来说是一种过度的平衡。南方的阳光确实值得北方的自由。这是一件可悲的事情，”他带着非常感伤的神情说，“一个生来自由的英国人竟然屈服于这些天空的影响；”他一边抱怨着，一边怒气冲冲地看着窗外，但没有人理会他。副官礼貌地同意他的说法，天气很糟糕，很可能会下雨，而且确实下雨了。每个人都知道，男人就像孩子一样，在某些情况下会因下雨天而遭受痛苦。没有出去；马匹停在门口，不得不被遣散。好吧，既然不可能骑马，副官想到的下一个最好的事情就是谈论马，军官们都变得热切起来，丘吉尔决心竭尽全力向他们表明，他对此事的了解比他们多；他不仅仅是一个书呆子；但在这个不幸的日子里，一切都出了问题。碰巧贺拉斯在关于一匹著名赛马的家谱方面犯了一些严重的错误，他比被判犯有任何程度的道德败坏更感到不安、烦恼和羞愧，他不再谈论纽马基特或唐卡斯特将赛马场留给了那些为自己的四足优胜者而自豪的人，然后懒洋洋地走进了台球室。

他发现塞西莉亚夫人正在和博克勒克玩耍。斯坦利小姐在一旁看着。丘吉尔是一位著名的台球选手，轮到他来展示他的表现比博克勒克好得多，但这一天他的手失灵了，他的眼睛也不好；他犯下了新手可能会感到羞耻的错误。斯坦利小姐和博克勒克也过来看看！博克莱尔可怜他！

噢，人类苦难的极限！

他退到书房，但在那里，知识分子贺拉斯以及各个时代的所有圣人、诗人和小说家都无法接触到他们；但是，他双手插在口袋里，像任何一个乡绅或小学生一样，承受着无知的负担或懒惰的惩罚，站在烟囱前，看着钟摆，确信今天早上指针倒转了。穿衣时间终于到了，晚餐时间也到了，这让经常脾气暴躁的男人和孩子松了口气。但是，这一天的晚餐给丘吉尔带来的只是狼狈，更狼狈。

一些邻近的家庭将在克拉伦登公园用餐。丘吉尔先生憎恶乡村邻居和乡村绅士。不过，其中也有一些不值得他察觉的。除此之外，还有一些外国军官。尤其是一位来自西班牙、出身高、地位高的人 圣阿祖尔是， 贵族，如果他们被绞死，他们有幸获得丝绳。这位西班牙人是一位才华横溢的人，对他来说，霍拉斯可能会大放异彩。然而，他很高兴这一天辜负了人们的期望，并“让他的国家蒙羞”。他只会谈论饮食，他有幸不仅可以谈论饮食，而且可以对饮食做出判断和发表意见。 恩德尼尔度假村，虽然这只是表面现象，因为他并不是真正的美食家；但当他透过玻璃看了一眼远处的菜肴后，当它们带着愿望走近时，他粗略地看了一眼或仔细检查后，点点头让它们退出。

最后，他认为这是一个机会，可以介绍他精心准备的关于坎巴塞雷斯的轶事，还有一只热黑鸟和白脚，但不幸的是，一位乡村绅士会讲述一些偷猎者和猎场看守人之间的战斗历史，这引起了人们的注意。直到轶事发生的那一刻过去。

贺拉斯没有讲述他的故事，并且在开始一个他认为自己可以无与伦比的主题之前不再说话。克拉伦登将军有一些非常好的葡萄酒。丘吉尔被称为法官，他允许他们一切都好，但他为自己拥有某种西班牙葡萄酒而感到自豪，这种葡萄酒的价值高于一切，因为不是用钱就能买到的——阿蒙蒂利亚多 是它的名字。贺拉斯向西班牙官员求助，后者证实了他所说的关于这种葡萄酒现象的一切。 “没有哪个修士能够确定能生产出它。它让所有的人都困惑得几乎要死 种植者 泽雷斯：——它是雪利酒的一个品种，几乎和采购一样难以判断。”

但丘吉尔先生却夸口说他有一些，毫无疑问是真的。他补充道，“西班牙法官向他保证，他的品味非常准确，他可能会冒险对阿蒙蒂亚度这一难题做出判断！”

当他说话的时候，克拉伦登将军无意中把一些这种非常好的酒放在他面前，当他说完时，丘吉尔吞下了这杯酒，而他并不知道这是他一直在喝的其他雪利酒中的酒。他可能会怀疑这是否是真的，但西班牙人据他假装判断，认为这是毫无疑问的。

丘吉尔的表情让海伦很惊讶，也让塞西莉亚夫人觉得好笑。这次失败比其他的失败更让他感到羞愧和烦恼，因为全桌的人都笑了。

这不幸的一天的晚上并不比早晨更明亮，一切都不对劲——即使是在晚上——在晚上，当最后的晚餐公司、乡村游客把他从他们的存在中解救出来时，当他可以得到一些安慰时，他躺在一张舒适的安乐椅上想道——达文南特勋爵为他树立了榜样。但所有的椅子都发生了变化——有各种各样的时尚款式；他轮流尝试，但今晚没有一个适合他。然而塞西莉亚夫人坚称（因为将军选择了他们），他们每个人都以自己的方式感到舒适，完全符合英语的精神，并且根据法语的解释 舒适，由 d'Abrantes 公爵夫人赠予我们， 集会善礼;但出于同情丘吉尔先生的挑剔不安，她现在要向他展示一把她刚刚为自己的闺房制作的完美椅子。她命令把它拿来，在里面滚动，从各个方向观察它并坐在里面，即使是伟大的吹毛求疵者也找不到它的任何缺点；但它叫什么？它既不是躺椅，也不是睡鼠，也不是库珀，也不是纳尔逊，也不是袋鼠：一把没有名字的椅子永远不会做；它是一张椅子。在所有时尚事物中，名字占一半以上。袋鼠这样一个幸福的名字，塞西莉亚女士绝望地找不到她最喜欢的新名字，但她恳求有人能给它一个好名字；无论是谁给了她最好的名字，都应该被邀请享受坐在这把椅子上度过余下的夜晚的荣誉和乐趣。

她的目光，所有的目光，都转向了丘吉尔先生，但不知是场合太重大，还是他满足公众日益高涨的期望的愿望过于紧张，或者是时间不合时宜，还是他事实是，他心情不好，找不到名字。

博克莱尔还没有尝试过这把椅子，他陷入了它奢华的深度，向后靠着，问它是否可以被称为“断头谷”。

“沉睡谷！”塞西莉亚女士重复道：“太好了！”并以鼓掌方式批准了《断头谷》；但当博克勒克被邀请出席会议时，他拒绝了，并宣称这个名字不是他的发明，只是他的回忆。它是他的一个朋友送给他的一把这样的安乐椅。

这种宽宏大量对贺拉斯来说是难以承受的。他看了看手表，发现已经到了睡觉时间，于是把椅子推开，然后离开了。博克勒克，这是他受辱的日子里的第一个也是最后一个想法。

看到一个男人受到这些琐碎的刺激，就会降低他在女人眼中的地位。由于对爱情的嫉妒而产生的脾气很容易受到影响，即使是在被琐事激发时，女人也会给予一切合理的、自然的宽容。但对于自爱的嫉妒，她没有怜悯之心。不适合男人的性格！——海伦是这么想的，每个女人也是这么想的。

所有目睹了他的狼狈和他临别时推向椅子的人都认为，丘吉尔先生会一大早就离开——这是他在虚荣心受到干扰时的习惯：但他在早餐时又出现了。

这一天对贺拉斯来说是美好的一天。他决定应该如此，尽管今天又是一个潮湿的日子，但他现在表明，当竞争唤醒强烈的意志时，他可以用自己的幽默来主宰天气。他把自己表现得非常讨人喜欢，昨天的人被遗忘了，或者只是作为今天的人的陪衬而被人们记住。他非常喜欢听、经常偷偷听的那些话现在又被重复了：“没有人能像霍勒斯·丘吉尔在他的好日子里那样令人愉快！”

他光芒四射，充满欢乐和亲切；这 喜爱的标志 是给所有人的，但最深刻的印象是给海伦的。他尝试了阿谀奉承和俏皮话，互相辉映，互相辉映，因为女人自然而然地对自己说：“这个男人如此机智，他的阿谀奉承也一定有价值。”

又一天，又一天，又一群朋友挤满了房子，但丘吉尔先生仍然留了下来，现在是所有人的喜悦。就他在社会上的成功而言，没有人比博克勒克更愿意加入掌声。但当海伦受到质疑时，他就不同了，尽管他已经说服自己相信他还不能爱斯坦利小姐，因此他不能嫉妒。但他很高兴地发现，她似乎从一开始就看出了丘吉尔先生是一个什么样的人。她现在只是觉得好笑，每个人都一定会这样，但她永远不会对霍勒斯·丘吉尔这样一个没有灵魂的聪明人感兴趣。如果她是的话——为什么他永远不会对她产生任何进一步的兴趣——仅此而已！

就这样继续下去；现在，塞西莉亚夫人正如她所预料的那样，被这些日常的嫉妒、冲突和比较逗乐了，这些感觉永远在欺骗自己，趾高气扬，自称评判，就像《吉尔·布拉斯》中的仆人穿着主人的衣服，到处走来走去。包括公爵和贵族。

“嗯，说实话，”有一天，塞西莉亚夫人站在鼓架附近，对海伦说，“你是一个勤劳的人，也是我唯一能忍受的勤劳的人。我自己对针有一种天生的厌恶，但是那种鼓针我比普通的针更能忍受，因为首先，它会在世界上发出一点噪音；人们不仅看到而且听到它在进行；人们发现，无需拖动它，它的每个环节都会拉出一条加长的链条。”

“这叫链缝，不是吗？”副官说； “斯坦利小姐的工作速度如此之快，很快她就会把我们所有人都锁在她的锁链里。”

“鞠躬，斯坦利小姐，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “这种漂亮的赞美即使不值得抬头，至少也值得鞠躬。”

丘吉尔说：“如果我选择的话，我应该更喜欢俯视。”

“乞丐不能挑剔，”副官说。

“但我之所以能忍受看着你工作，海伦，”塞西莉亚女士继续说道，“是因为你确实经常抬起头——如此令人耳目一新。所声称的 名人 我厌恶——那些目不转睛地离开他们永恒工作的人；无论说什么、读到、想到或感受到什么，对他们来说，都比他们在上面打洞的那块平纹细布或在他们在上面描绘出大自然蔑视的人物或花朵的那块画布更重要。妈妈，我向你保证，我没有恶意，”塞西莉亚继续说道，转向她的母亲，她的母亲也在绣花架前，“因为，尽管你在工作，或者在你面前有工作，但公平地说，你根本不关心它。”

“谢谢你！我亲爱的塞西莉亚，”达维南特夫人微笑着说道。 “我确实是一个可悲的笨手笨脚的人，但我仍然会始终对工作和工人保持极大的尊重，而且我有充分的理由这样做。”

“我也是，”达文南特勋爵说道。 “我只希望那些不知道用手做什么的人不要以缝纫为耻。如果习俗允许我们使用这种资源，即使在十一月，也可能会挽救多少宝贵的生命，有多少富有的人也不会上吊自杀！如果王子和苏丹不是扔手帕，而是将手帕围起来，那么，多少年的战争，多少帝国的推翻，本可以避免！”

“不，不，”达维南特夫人说，“想想看，自从西班牙国王把剑换成鼓架以来，他们的种族就有些恶化了。我们最好保持事物本来的样子：让我们拥有针的特权，这是多么宝贵的资源；对抗万恶之源的至高无上的力量——既是懒惰中的爱，也是懒惰中的恨的解药——这是最可怕的，让那些感受到这两种感觉的人来决定吧。我认为我们女士们必须被允许保留针的特权，尽管它很谦虚，因为我们必须承认它是一件好事。”

“善于满足需要，”丘吉尔说。 “我相信，布克有一幅出色的印刷品，内容是一位老妇人用一根棍子殴打魔鬼；我想，从那以后，老处女们就不再流行这种穿衣打扮了。”

“但是，丘吉尔，她已经老了，”达文南特勋爵说道，“如果没有她的手杖，您的夫人难道不会反抗他的黑人陛下吗？”

“他的 黑色 威严！我钦佩您的杰出表现，大人，”丘吉尔说，“但要更加强调它；据说，在美丽的人眼中，并非所有国王都是黑色的，你知道的。”说到这里，他开始讲述王室丑闻，塞西莉亚女士阻止了他——

“现在，霍勒斯，我抗议你这么一大早就开始丑闻。没有你的 在滴滴，为了体面起见，在午餐之前；等到晚上。”

丘吉尔咳嗽、耸肩、叹气，宣布他会保持节制。为了他的名誉，他不会碰任何人。他只会沉迷于一些小人物；他批评或赞扬不在场的美女，不会伤害任何一位女士的感情。所以他只是回顾了他能记得的一切，回答了其中一位军官沃姆斯利上尉问他的问题，而他昨天心不在焉地做出了无礼的行为，现在他回忆起来，而不是回答——他认为谁是他所认识的最漂亮的女人？博克勒克现在在房间里，霍勒斯很自豪地在他面前展示他对所有公平和时尚的无限知识，以及所有可能被认为是时尚但不公平的东西——所有那些具有 JE NE最高审计机关quoi，这比美丽更珍贵。当一个人意识到自己有能力通过一种蔑视的眼神或一句赞美的话来奉献或亵渎时，他就站了起来；从可想象的最低点开始，他对美的缺乏的最彻底的观念——他的 奠定理想毫无疑问，每一种慈善想象力都会提供其中的一个形象，霍勒斯接下来将注意力集中在另一个人身上，因为他的平庸点——他应该称之为“刚刚好”——阿塞兹比恩——正是贝拉西斯的座右铭，“美丽与美丽”。然后，按照通常的说法，他的等级上升到了那些可以被称为迷人的、令人着迷的人。但对于每一件事，他仍然有着挑剔的表情和贬低的言语。贺拉斯只是保持在边缘，没有让自己受到浮夸的嘲笑，最后他感叹“一切都是由最好的生物制成的”——完美，但不受完美的诅咒。然后，突然转向博克勒克，拍拍他的肩膀——“请告诉我们你的想法——现在，你愿意向什么样的身体或心灵屈膝？”

博克勒克无法或不愿告诉——“我只知道，每当我弯曲膝盖时，”他说，“那是因为我无法控制！”

丘吉尔的戏谑或奉承都无法吸引博克勒克的注意力，他尝试了两种方式，谈论他的品味或对女性的看法。也许他对爱情的感受太多，以至于无法谈论它。在海伦的想象中，这一切与塞西莉亚夫人告诉她的他秘密订婚的事情非常吻合。她确信他在想布兰奇夫人，而且他不能冒险描述她，以免泄露自己和他的秘密。然后，离开丘吉尔和谈话者，他独自在房间里走来走去，在另一边，似乎他正在回忆一些他对自己重复的台词，然后停在塞西莉亚夫人面前，以一种非常自然的方式向她重复。低声说道：——

“我近距离地看到了她，
是灵魂，也是女人！
她的家庭动作轻盈而自由，
还有处女自由的脚步；
见过面的表情
记录甜蜜，承诺同样甜蜜；
一个不太聪明或不太善良的生物
为人类的日常食物；
对于短暂的悲伤，简单的诡计，
赞美、责备、爱、亲吻、泪水和微笑。”

海伦认为布兰奇夫人如果像这幅画一样，一定是一位迷人的女人。但不知何故，正如她后来告诉塞西莉亚女士的那样，她对布兰奇·福雷斯特女士产生了不同的看法——塞西莉亚微笑着问道：“怎么？怎么不一样？”

海伦不太清楚，但总的来说，她想象自己一定更像一个女英雄，或者更像一个有地位、时尚的女人。她还没有形成任何确切的想法——但与这个描述完全不同。塞西莉亚女士再次微笑道：“很自然，毕竟，不太确定布兰奇夫人是否像这幅画一样，这幅画肯定不是为她绘制的，也不是由她绘制的——这种相似之处只存在于想象中，而我们所有人或多或少都被欺骗了。和 坦特·米约 说我——坦皮斯妈妈和所有母亲都这么说。”

“有一件事我比丘吉尔先生更喜欢博克勒克先生的举止，”海伦说。

“我更喜欢一百个，”塞西莉亚女士说，“但是你唯一的一件事是什么？”

“他总是满怀尊重地谈论女性——就好像他对她们更有信心，并且更加依赖她们来获得幸福。现在丘吉尔先生，尽管他声称对他们充满崇拜，但似乎将他们视为偶像，他可以随意竖起或推倒，弯曲膝盖或打碎——我不能喜欢一个人作为朋友对女性有不好的、甚至是轻蔑的看法——你可以吗，塞西莉亚？”

“当然不是，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “自然，将军一直对女性怀有最大的尊重。无论他抱有什么偏见，都只是从别人那里得知的，而且只持续到他摆脱了某些“不愉快的情况”的印象为止。”即使是严重的、严重的厌恶，塞西莉亚女士和海伦都同意，他们可以更好地忍受而不是那些看似嘲讽的嘲讽，尽管它最自称钦佩。

贺拉斯不久就发现了他在尝试中所犯的错误，并凭借他无限的多才多艺尽快修复了这些错误。这些变化伴随着一种使他们很容易相遇的技能而逐渐消失。他觉得博克勒克先生恭敬的神态和语气更受欢迎，现在他也摆出一副恭敬的样子，一边自夸，一边补充道，无论他说什么，都更精妙、更圆滑，更有权威。 。

但他羞愧地发现，这并没有产生预期的效果，而且，在按照他想象的、以最快乐的方式做了一天早上的恭敬之后，他恼火地发现，他不仅无法将海伦的目光从她身上移开。工作，但就连达维南特夫人也没有注意到他：当他即将迎来他最好的时期时，她的目光转向了房间的另一边，博克莱克坐在那儿。不久，她叫住了他，请求知道他在读什么。她说她非常羡慕他拥有的能力，可以全神贯注地进入未来或过去，完全听从作者的命令，按照他喜欢的方式和地点移动。

博克莱尔把书拿给她，放在她手里。当她拿起这本书时，她说：“随着我们生活的进步，我们越来越难在任何一本书中找到我们在生活、书籍和我们自己都是新人时所享受的那种迷人的、令人着迷的兴趣。试图解决这个问题到底是在现代书籍中，还是在我们古代的自我中，是徒劳的。可能两者都不是：事实是，随着年龄的增长，想象力不仅会变得冷淡和减弱，而且当我们生活在这个世界上时，我们会过于专注于现实的事务和生活的忧虑，而没有感觉或者是为了人为的、虚构的利益的时间。但为什么我说人为呢？当它们持续存在时，富有想象力的兴趣和其他兴趣一样真实。”

“谢谢你，”博克勒克说，“公正地对待了可怜的想象力，毕竟，想象力的乐趣肯定是我们所拥有的最高、最真实的，尽管形而上学家和医生都对它们进行了无理的谴责。”

引起博克勒克注意的那本书是塞居尔的《拿破仑俄国战役史》。他在描述莫斯科被烧毁的那一页——这是波拿巴绝望的画面，当他遇到比他自己更大的决心时，当他感到自己被人类的思想、爱国主义和美德征服时——他无法做到的美德。他相信，他无法想象这种存在的存在：他不屈不挠的意志无法征服的力量。

博克莱克提到了一座教堂铁门上的著名铭文，法国人发现它仍然矗立着，这是罗斯托普钦在他的“令人愉快的家”被烧毁后写下的文字。

“法国人，我花了八年的时间来装饰这座住宅；我在家人的怀抱里幸福地生活着。当你到达时，这个庄园的居民（共有一千七百二十人）已经离开了。我亲手放火烧毁了我自己的房子，以免它被你的存在污染。=

“看看一个人，甚至一个慷慨的人能为他的国家做些什么，”博克勒克喊道。 “这种牺牲对他来说是多么小的代价啊！我说牺牲吗？这是一种自豪——一种快乐。”

丘吉尔一点也不喜欢海伦的表情，因为他看出她同情博克莱尔的热情。他发现浪漫的热情比智慧或时尚对她更有吸引力。现在他考虑再次改变风格。他会尝试一种高贵的风格。他决定，一有方便的机会，他就会浪漫一点，甚至可能接触一下骑士精神，像博克勒克那样爆发，但以他自己的方式，面对现代的堕落。他尝试过——但完全失败了。他无意中听到塞西莉亚女士低声对海伦说了曾经那么高兴的话——”啊!穷人！与热情的指挥官进行战斗。=

贺拉斯是一个太聪明的人，他不会坚持错误的路线，也不会坚持他对正确性的检验。 成功 并没有使他的努力取得成功。如果这不起作用，那么其他东西就可以——应该这样做。以他的资源精神，他最终不可能失败。取悦海伦，给海伦留下比博克勒克更大的印象——简而言之，不管所有严肃的想法如何，激怒博克勒克仍然是丘吉尔努力的最高目标。

大约在这个时候，发生了一件事情，这件事似乎与丘吉尔或博克勒克无关，但最终使他们的角色变得行动起来并充满激情。

达维南特勋爵在迪恩·斯坦利的画作拍卖会上购买了几幅迪恩·斯坦利最喜欢的画，这些画无论其积极的优点如何，对海伦来说都特别珍贵。他下令将他们送往克拉伦登公园；起初，当他和达维南特夫人在俄罗斯时，他只是向将军请求为他们提供房间。然后他说，万一他再也回不来了，他希望这些照片能分给他两个亲爱的孩子，塞西莉亚和海伦。为了防止争执，他现在要亲自分配它们，他以最友善和最有趣的方式将它们分配给每个人，总是找到一些很好的理由给海伦那些他知道她最喜欢的东西；然后会有一个 悬挂委员会，因为挂画引起了很多讨论，博克勒克总是想到海伦，或者最适合画作的东西；贺拉斯大部分是他自己和他的业余爱好。

这些画中有一些精美的伍弗曼画，以及其他狩猎和叫卖作品，特别是一幅来自《堂吉诃德》的公爵夫人和她的女士们的画。博克勒克四处巡视和欣赏，当他看到这幅画时，他站定了，他觉得他在其中一个人物身上发现了一些与海伦的相似之处。这位女士的手腕上戴着一只鹰。丘吉尔戴着眼镜，热切地参加考试。他看不出与斯坦利小姐有丝毫相似之处。但他急于发表自己的精彩观察，这是他从《季刊评论》中得出的，说明了画家拥有知识的优势，即使是那些看似与他们的专业领域最相距甚远的知识。

“比如说，现在 先验，人们不应该坚持认为一位伟大的画家是一位优秀的鸟类学家，然而，由于缺乏成为一名鸟类爱好者的能力，看看他所做的事情——相当荒谬，引入了一种鹰，例如从来没有或不可能参与自然界中的任何鹰猎活动：不会坐在女士的手腕上或响应她的召唤，也不会飞向鸟儿。现在你会发现这是一个可笑的错误。”

虽然丘吉尔对这一批评性的评论感到自豪，但沃姆斯利上尉讲述了谁仍然在英格兰养鹰，以及他所看到和听说过的小贩聚会——“即使是今年，威尔特郡著名的小贩活动，以及诺福克的另一次小贩活动。”

丘吉尔问沃姆斯利，当兰西尔在那里研究他著名的叫卖场景时，他是否在伯纳勋爵那里。 “你看到了吗，塞西莉亚女士？”他继续说道； “它很美;鸟儿似乎完全从画面中走出来了；”他继续发挥他的鉴赏能力，讲述他因错过购买那幅画而感到的羞愧。但沃姆斯利又回到了他所见过的叫卖活动，他对这项运动的描述变得非常雄辩。

丘吉尔虽然急于发言，但还是以相当有礼貌的耐心听着，直到沃姆斯利谈到了他忘记提到的事情——苍鹭腿上写着日期和年份的标签；从丹麦带来的苍鹭，它是在那里被捕获的，带有从伯纳勋爵的放飞的标签； “因为，”他继续说，“如果可能的话，苍鹭总是要被拯救的，所以，当它倒下，老鹰在它上方时，猎鹰人会准备一些切碎的生牛肉，放在苍鹭背上，或者放在苍鹭背上。有时会使用刚宰杀的鸽子；鹰把它吃掉，而苍鹭则很安全，一旦从恐惧中恢复过来，就会慢慢地向上爬，回到它的苍鹭那里。”

海伦热切地听着，塞西莉亚女士也听着，她说：“你知道，海伦，我们最喜欢的华盛顿·欧文引用过，在过去，‘一位有地位的女士并不认为自己完全有能力骑马，除非她有流苏。 -杰西斯温柔地握住她精致的手。”

她的话还没说完，博克勒克就决定了他要做什么，事情已经成功一半了。他坐在图书馆的桌子旁，以最快的速度写着，向一位朋友全权委托，立即为他争取到沃姆斯利提到过的整个小贩设施，现在正在公开出售，或者私下出售。与现在的拥有者一起。

就在博克勒克在房间的一端签名并盖章的那一刻，另一位霍勒斯·丘吉尔也发生了同样的计划，他向塞西莉亚·克拉伦登夫人暗示了他的计划——期待着荣誉，从而迷住了她。看到他的一只鹰落在她纤细的手腕上。

博克勒克寄出信后，及时赶来，听到了声音和感觉，然后把贺拉斯拉到一边，告诉他自己做了什么。贺拉斯看起来很烦恼，傲慢地观察到，他认为埃尔斯梅德的位置比英格兰的大多数地方更适合举办小贩聚会。他已经向女士们宣布了他的意图。道路向他敞开——但博克勒克不明白他为什么要后退；同一个邮筒可能同时寄有他们的两封信——都是他们的命令！

“请问您的订单进行到什么程度了？”丘吉尔说。

“全权委托。”

丘吉尔带着讽刺的微笑承认，他不准备走那么远。他不像格兰维尔那么年轻。不幸的是，他多年来已经变得谨慎了——不幸的是，他说；他毫无保留地讽刺道，他从心底抗议说，他认为自己成为那种行动迟缓、谨慎、三思而后行的生物是一种不幸。尽管这可能使他免于遭受西西里岛人的命运，但他仍然认为失去如此多的天生热情是不幸的。

“天生的热情！”博克勒克忍不住对自己重复了一遍，然后他就继续走自己的路了。必须承认，正如博克勒克最好的朋友们所承认的那样，其中包括达维南特夫人和他的监护人，有理智的人从来没有像现在这样容易受到所谓的被幻想所影响而导致的推理能力的暂时混乱。 ;然后他就径直向前跑，不顾左右，追求他的目标，无论大小。那个霍金机构现在就在眼前，暂时完全排除了所有其他物体； “他谈论雄鸟和诱饵；”在他的想象中，出现的是放鹰的场景，海伦手腕上戴着一只鹰，看起来非常优雅——这应该是他自己训练的鹰。那么，如何训练鹰就成了问题。当他等待全权委托的答复时，没有什么比让自己成为整个事务的主人更好或更好的事情了，为此，他发现有必要查阅每一本有关猎鹰的书籍，在图书馆里发现了他，在这次寻书的过程中，他成了每个人的一大瘟疫。

“真无聊！”沃姆斯利在牙齿之间低声低语也许是可以原谅的。克拉伦登将军叹了口气，呻吟着。达维南特夫人在哲学上忍耐又忍耐——这是为了博克勒克；她把所有的功劳都归功于她的伟大哲学。塞西莉亚夫人虽然有点恼火，但脾气一直很好，一小时内多次查阅目录和书架。但她并不以耐心着称，很快她就把他交给了一位更好的朋友——海伦，她是最不知疲倦的读书人。她的叔叔对她进行了很好的训练。她一生都习惯了；并真正从这项令人厌烦的事情中获得乐趣。她向博克勒克保证这绝对不是一个小麻烦，当她这么说时，博克勒克认为她看起来很漂亮。凡是男性，年轻，热情，更不用说不耐烦，有精神，曾经在突然的心血来潮中受到帮助和教唆，协助，转发，最重要的是，通过占主导地位的幻想的所有变化和机会而受到同情或许可以想象，海伦在博克勒克的眼中变得多么迷人，而且每小时、也许每分钟都变得更加迷人。但是，一切都以友谊的方式观察。完全如此——就她而言，因为她没有别的想法，也正是因为这个原因，她才如此轻松。他是如此理解这一点，而且，他是一位彻头彻尾的绅士，没有任何浮夸的表现，以本能的细腻诠释了女性的语言和举止，他们愉快地继续着。丘吉尔一直在警惕，但他并没有惊慌。一切都是如此毫不掩饰和坦率，以至于现在他开始确信，她那边的爱不仅是，而且永远是不可能的。

事实上，在目前的情况下，博克勒克确实非常专注于他所做的事情。他追寻猎鹰历史及其所有情节，从圣奥尔本博克的旧时代一直到《体育杂志》的最后一期，包括桑顿上校的最新飞行，以及他的红色猎鹰“M小姐”的冒险经历。酥油和汤森勋爵，以及他的红色雄鹰，克罗克·弗兰先生和克雷格农先生；——不要忘记那场永远不会忘记的阿兰博姆博博鲁斯皇帝与特拉比松鹰的鹰叫活动，这是根据大先生图书馆中一份手稿的权威。

博克勒克非常依赖朋友们的同情，因此，当他阅读任何他感兴趣的东西时，无论他们在做什么，他都必须得到他们对吸引他的东西的钦佩。他把他的书带给了正在写信的达维南特勋爵。 “听着，哦，听着！对于猎鹰者的这句可悲的哀叹，“鹰，迄今为止是皇室的骄傲，贵族的徽章，大使的礼物，牧师的放纵，骑士的伴侣，温柔的情妇的照顾，现在是没有必要的和被忽视的.’”

“哈！很好，”达维南特勋爵说，他停下了笔，再次蘸了一下，点了点，然后继续说下去。

然后，博克勒克转向达文南夫人，并在斯科特的《小说家的一生》中打断了她，她全神贯注地说道：“请允许我，我亲爱的达文南夫人，尽管您说您不是伟大的地形学家，但我要向您展示这一点，它是很好奇；这位皇家驯鹰人的公告——亨利八世——保护他的鹧鸪、雉鸡和苍鹭，从威斯敏斯特的宫殿到圣吉尔斯 在田野里，从那里到伊斯灵顿、汉普斯特德和海格特，每只因监禁而被杀死的鸟都将受到惩罚，或者殿下可能会受到的任何其他惩罚。”

达维南特夫人对时间、地点、人物和礼仪的变化发表了一些符合预期的适当评论，然后示意四开本走开，四开本不情愿地答应了。然后跟着塞西莉亚女士从一个窗口到另一个窗口，因为她 趋向于 他会坚持让她听听鹰派的优先顺序表。她从来不关心生活中的任何优先顺序，即使涉及到高等动物，她只会记住梅林是一只女士的鹰，而这只有一个条件，那就是她应该有一只坐在她身上手腕就像Wouvermans画中的淑女一样。但此外，至于游隼、猎鹰或格金，她什么也听不到，也听不到，尽管格兰维尔恳切地劝告，猎鹰不喜欢她的主人的几个充分理由——

第一。如果他对她说粗话。第二。如果他不小心喂她。

在他第三次出去之前，塞西莉亚女士阻止了他，宣称她这辈子再也听不到任何以 第一 和 其次——特别是原因。

与此同时，贺拉斯则显得居高临下，对博克勒克在谈话艺术方面的一点点技巧怀着难以言表的蔑视，因此不愿倾听那些本来可以在伦敦晚宴上为他赢得荣誉的轶事。

“我可以用它们做些什么！他想，也许还可以利用它们。 “但是有些人，他们永远无法像其他一些聪明人那样，利用自己的爱好达到良好的目的和良好的效果；——现在，我清楚地看到，博克勒克的爱好总是会带着他轻率地逃跑，让他付出高昂的代价当然，而且可能最终把他留在泥潭里。”

博克勒克还不知道这种幻想会让他付出什么代价。 《体育杂志》中的两三段文字暗示了这种“最令人愉快的乡村满足感”的花费，他认为没有必要大声朗读。他还知道，已故的奥福德勋爵是这项“皇家而高贵”运动的热心追求者，他每年在他饲养的每只鹰上花费一百美元，每只鹰都需要单独的看护者，而且还沉迷于欧洲大陆的旅行。每个季节换羽期间都会如此：但博克勒克对自己说，他不知道要让他的鹰适应到那种程度。尽管它们是贵族鸟，但它们应该满足于英国，而不是假装“像领主一样破坏气候”。他还自以为自己应该能够比任何前任都更便宜地追求自己的幻想。但正如他向他的监护人承诺的那样，在贝尔特拉弗斯的事业上给予他宽容之后，他不会要求他提供任何更多的特殊物资，他决定，如果费用超出了他的方式和手段，就卖掉他的猎人，因此，以牺牲旧爱为代价，沉迷于新爱。

第一天猎鹰所期待的快乐现在在他的想象中变得清晰起来。这一天被命名了，天气预计会很好，德国的训犬员和训练员以及整个机构都被移交给了博克勒克，他们将来到克拉伦登公园，博克勒克非常高兴地教学梅林斯坐在塞西莉亚女士和斯坦利小姐的手腕上。人们发现海伦的声音特别适合鹰，正如博克勒克所观察到的那样，鹰像李尔王一样喜欢女人身上的优秀品质，声音总是轻柔、温和、低沉。

女士们要在这个场合穿上漂亮的衣服，一切都充满欢乐和期待。当丘吉尔看到事情可能会进展顺利时，他感到羞愧，他不会成为这场盛宴的举办者，特别是当他发现海伦特别高兴时，令他无法形容的惊讶的是，格兰维尔·博克勒克来找他，就在任命参加小贩聚会的前几天，他说他改变了主意，他希望摆脱整个担忧——如果丘吉尔愿意取消订婚，他真的应该感谢丘吉尔。他给出的唯一理由是，这个机构完全超出了他的承受能力，他发现他还有其他需要钱的事情，这与他的幻想不符，因此他会放弃。

丘吉尔非常乐意地答应了他的要求，亲自承担了全部工作，他以一种非常巧妙的方式做到了这一点，而没有花费任何荒谬的费用。他认识了一群富有、时尚的年轻人，他们在邻近的县租了一家体育旅馆，他们只想接受所提出的条件，并通过举办一场与众不同的宴会来使自己与众不同，而丘吉尔，像一个真正的世俗人一样，懂得世俗的讨价还价艺术，他以绅士般的随性策略，设法让每一点都按照自己的方便来解决，他将成为谈判的给予者。克拉伦登公园的女士们的娱乐活动。当事情的变化宣布后，塞西莉亚夫人、将军、达文南夫人和海伦都不同程度地感到惊讶，每个人都试图猜测博克勒克突然放弃自己的目的的原因是什么。他——对他来说非常非凡——难以捉摸：他坚持“我发现我买不起”这句话。他的监护人无法相信这种奇妙的谨慎，并且几乎可以肯定“这一切的本质上一定存在某种轻率”。

格兰维尔既没有承认也没有反驳这一指控。塞西莉亚夫人不停地敲打着，希望能够找出真相，但是，正如她所说，你还不如在一块旧燧石上工作。没有从他身上引出任何东西，即使是达维南特夫人也没有。他们所有观点的冲突也没有给这个问题带来任何启发。

与此同时，小贩聚会的日子到了。丘吉尔举办了这次宴会，博克勒克作为客人之一出席并享受了这次宴会，丝毫没有表现出失望的样子。他一点也不嫉妒丘吉尔，而是帮助纠正任何小缺陷，并尽其所能使整个事情进展顺利。

一行人聚集在一块高地上。悬挂旗帜以通知拟进行的运动；猎鹰人出现了，他们穿着绿色夹克，戴着长手套，帽子上饰有苍鹭羽毛，风景如画，有的手腕上还戴着苍鹭羽毛，肩上扛着鹰架，可以把鹰放在上面。 在 ，我们说过吗？——不：“投 博克勒克观察到，“你的鹰栖息在栖息处”是正确的术语；因为，正如霍勒斯讽刺的那样，博克勒克先生可能会因其过于精确而被视为该领域的新手。他的霍金语言发音太正确、太阁楼了。但格兰维尔欣然而愉快地忍受了所有这些嘲笑和嘲笑，确信它们既不会粘连也不会玷污，他全心全意地享受着这一场景的乐趣——聚集在一起的女士们，随从的骑士们；眨眼的鹰，铜铃的鸣响；猎鹰者焦急地注视着云彩，等待这只鸟的第一次出现。他们松开头罩的技巧，就像只有一只手可以自由时，他们用牙齿解开绳子一样：——现在头罩脱了，鹰飞走了。

今天他们要飞翔许多种鹰；第一次飞行是在一只麻鹬之后；骑马是如此艰难，如此危险，由于地面破碎，女士们放弃了它，并满足于在她们留下的高处观看这项运动。

现在，运动员们需要解决一个问题，即在狐狸追逐赛中的相对速度，以及在“短暂但非常艰难的疾驰中，眼睛仰望云端，这是充分享受所必需的”叫卖的；”然后，绅士们回来了，聚集在女士们周围，解决问题，手上的手表，根据赌注，增加了第一个飞行的兴趣，而狂欢大师丘吉尔则情绪最高。

但不久天色阴沉，晨光低垂，风起，丘吉尔的眉毛也变了。逆风鸣叫是不存在的——风是反复无常的！

“诅咒风！”丘吉尔喊道； “那些说今天不再有小贩的家伙感到困惑！”

然而，首席驯鹰人是个冷漠的德国人，行为举止得体，就像优秀的驯鹰人应该有的那样，正如《老崔斯特瑞姆的书》中所说，即使一只鸟丢失了，他也不应该发誓，而只会说： “亲爱的你”和“请记住，鹰之母还没有死。”

但贺拉斯不顾理智，不顾德国谋士的劝告，坚持在狂风中放飞鹰。事实证明，首先，他在仓促和脾气暴躁中使用的所有术语都是错误的。接下来，猎物顺风，骑兵无法跟上鹰：猎鹰人非常惊慌，用自己给它们起的名字来呼唤它们——“迪德灵顿小姐”，“伯纳斯勋爵”。 “哈！迪德灵顿小姐走了；——和布吕歇尔、柯比夫人、伯纳斯勋爵以及所有追随她的人一起走了。迪灵顿小姐飞得又快又远，甚至更远，直到她和其他人都消失在视线之外——迷失了，迷失了，迷失了！

“他们是来自德国的鹰族，一如既往的优秀！”猎鹰者们陷入了绝望，丘吉尔明白这是他的错。这看起来很像伦敦人的体育精神！如果贺拉斯勃然大怒，那也还好；但他只是变得脾气暴躁、脾气暴躁、脾气暴躁：现在这些词都没有以 ISH 成为一个绅士；女士们总是这么想，塞西莉亚夫人现在也是这么想的，海伦也是这么想的，丘吉尔也看到了，他的脸色变得苍白而不是红色，这在一个愤怒的男人身上看起来很丑陋。

但博克勒克在他听不见的时候原谅了他。当其他人说他脾气暴躁，甚至比举办一场盛大的盛会更生气时，博克勒克为他辩护，众所周知，猎鹰运动是“激情的极端煽动者，容易遭受无限的不幸”。

然而，对于一些人来说，在树下进行冷热比较，对于另一些人来说，在帐篷下进行冷热比较，现在一切都恢复正常了。香槟闪闪发光，贺拉斯发誓，又被发誓，所有人都很高兴；就连德国人也在自己的餐桌上，以自己的方式，用莱茵啤酒和泡沫麦芽酒，设法淹没逃学鹰的悲惨冒险的回忆。

当所有人的身心都焕然一新后，他们又去放鹰了。就目前而言

“风停了，他们所有的恐惧都睡了”

苍鹭和鹰之间将会有一场战斗，这是所有猎鹰比赛中最美丽的景象之一。

“看！看！斯坦利小姐，”格兰维尔喊道。 “看！跟随那只高飞的鹰——云中的那个黑点。现在！现在！就在苍鹭上方；现在她会 取消者——斯坦利小姐，当她降落时，打开她的翅膀，旋转，保持平衡——校长。现在！现在看！光荣地取消！”

但海伦此时想起了沃姆斯利船长所说的关于刚杀死的鸽子的话，猎鹰人在紧要关头要把它放在苍鹭的背上。现在，即使取消正在进行中——最美丽的三倍，海伦只看到了那只鸽子，那只白鸽子，那只黑心的德国人握着它，他的大手掐住了喉咙，刚刚抬起来拧它。 “噢，博克勒克，救救它，救救它！”塞西莉亚女士和海伦立刻喊道。

博克勒克向前一跃，如果它是一只老虎而不是一只鸽子，那一刻毫无疑问也会做同样的事。鸽子得救了，苍鹭被杀了。如果海伦很高兴，那么首席驯鹰人或任何一名驯鹰人都不会高兴，整个德国委员会都会陷入燃烧！霍勒斯·丘吉尔认为“任何一位绅士都如此干涉其他绅士的鹰派，这是相当不寻常的”。

塞西莉亚女士站在中间，从不徒劳。她从手指上抽出一枚戒指——一枚印章；它是和平的印记——没什么大价值——但却是一只剪裁精良的鸟——一只供首席驯鹰人使用的鸟——一只豚鼠，它的叫声恰到好处，它有礼貌的座右铭：“回来，回来；”她保证女士们改日会回来，看到另一场叫卖活动。先生们很高兴，克拉伦登公园的苍鹭许诺会再派出另一只苍鹭，这也安抚了那些愤愤不平的侍从者。阴沉的脸庞变得明亮起来，“她抚平了黑暗中的乌鸦，直到它微笑”，无论这意味着什么；但是，正如弥尔顿所说，它必须是合理且合理的。

无论如何，用简单的散文来说，每个人都感到满意，甚至丘吉尔先生；因为博克勒克及时地为他纠正了一个错误，这个错误本来会玷污他当时的英勇行为。他忘记了从苍鹭身上拔下一些漂亮的灰色毛发，送给女士们用来装饰她们的帽子，但博克勒克已经为他准备好了它们，还有两三根那些非常珍贵的、光滑的黑色羽毛，鸟头上的羽毛非常珍贵，以至于它们的羽毛上经常镶嵌着珍珠和钻石。贺拉斯非常优雅地将这些礼物送给塞西莉亚夫人和海伦，并被塞西莉亚夫人的临别致意所迷住，最后的致辞“颇有侠义”。

因此，在经历了天气、风和幽默的所有变化和机会之后，一切都结束了，没有人对这一天的叫卖感到遗憾。

“但是，一直以来，”达文南特夫人说，“你们都没有告诉我，你们中是否有人发现，是什么让格兰维尔改变了对猎鹰计划的看法——为什么他突然把整个事情交给了丘吉尔先生。对于大多数年轻人来说，这种直截了当的风标转变不会让我感到惊讶，就像天空中那些云朵的变化一样，它们时而随风而变化，时而变化；但在格兰维尔·博克勒克的作品中，总是有一些明显的反复无常的理由，而且这个理由往往是非常巧妙的错误，以至于我听到它很有趣。即使作为对人性的研究，我也很想知道这个简单的事实。”

但没有人能说出这个简单的事实，没有人能猜出他的理由，而且从他那里永远不会知道——永远不可能被发现，除非是一个错误——一封感谢信写给了一个错误的人。

一天早上，当海伦和她一起坐在达文南特夫人的房间里时，达文南特勋爵走进来，读着一封信，就像一个在睡梦中行走的人。

“这到底是怎么回事，亲爱的？你能给我解释一下吗？我想，我应该感谢你的一些善举。”

达文南特夫人看着这封信。她说，她与此事无关。但转念一想，惊呼道：“这是格兰维尔·博克勒克干的，我很清楚！”

这封信是波利安斯基伯爵写来的，他是一位被流放的贫困波兰人。现在很穷，但以前曾是价值约十六万五千的财产的主人 可用的个人。在试图增加这些人的幸福并确保他们的自由的过程中，伯爵失去了一切，并被驱逐出他的国家——他是一个有高尚感情和才华的人，他为这个不幸福的事情竭尽全力。这个国家被内部的煽动者和外部的暴君撕成碎片。

达文南特夫人现在回忆起来，博克勒克从她那里得知了这一切，并听到她对达文南特勋爵此刻所处的情况感到遗憾，使他无法为他的许多受苦受难的同胞提供这个可怜的援助。和他一起被流放的人现在在伦敦处于极度痛苦之中。达维南特夫人记得，就在格兰维尔放弃猎鹰计划的那天，她一直在和他谈论这个话题。 “现在我全明白了，”她说。 “这就是我所知道的一切，也是我对他的所有希望。他每年在这些可怜的流亡者身上安置的这数百只，更好地用于崇高的民族事业，而不是宠爱一组鸟儿，让它们可以在另一组飞翔。”

达文南勋爵说：“然而，这是由一位饱受谩骂、出身高贵的英国绅士所为——在他们当中，让那些饱受谩骂、出身低等的英国民主党人随心所欲吧，我们每天都能发现这样的事例：私人慈善捐款用于公共目的，本着王公慈善精神，这种精神只有在我们亲爱的英格兰——尽管有种种缺点的英格兰——才能找到。”

“但这对格兰维尔来说是一种不寻常的慷慨，”达文南特夫人说，“放弃一种新的快乐，一种新的突发奇想，其所有的光泽都焕然一新，在他的眼中饱满而明亮。”

“确实如此，”达维南特勋爵说。 “我从来没有见过比这更好的强大的幻想。”

海伦救了那只白鸽，博克莱克把它带回家，送给她并接受了。她以牺牲苍鹭为代价拯救了一只鸽子的生命，这到底是好事还是坏事，可能值得怀疑，并将根据女士们先生们对苍鹭或鸽子的不同品味来决定。正如达维南特夫人所说，海伦的人性（或丘吉尔所说的鸽子性）是一种模棱两可的人性，随时准备毁灭一个生物以拯救另一个可能碰巧更受欢迎的生物。

不管怎样，这位最爱的人在目前的情况下有一个朋友，而且是一个不亚于克拉伦登将军的朋友，克拉伦登将军根据长期处方，向他赠送了一个大理石盆，就像鸽子应该用它喝水一样。

他说，将军担心“这个花瓶可能有点太深了——也许很危险——”。

但海伦认为，在品味和仁慈方面，没有什么比这更完美的了——也赞同博克勒克的仁慈——这是对度过的最愉快的一天的纪念。当她说最后一句话时，她看着丘吉尔，礼貌地鞠躬并接受了赞美，但额头上却带着一丝嫉妒。当他再次看着那只鸽子，爱抚又爱抚，然后又看着那个经典的花瓶时——他恼怒地站着，自言自语道：

“所以这就是我所有痛苦的结束——霍金和所有‘相当侠义’！”博克勒克带走了当天的荣誉和快乐，他的礼物和他的鸽子就是一切。然而，”他继续安慰自己说，“她对这只鸟的爱是如此开放，很明显她对这个男人还没有任何爱。尽管她很脆弱，但她会更害怕表现出来。这只是友谊——真诚的友谊，在她这边；如果她的感情不在别的地方——她可能是我的：如果——如果我愿意——如果——我能公平地求婚——我们将会看到——我会考虑的。

现在他开始认真地思考这件事。——斯坦利小姐对他的冷漠，以及他在给人留下印象方面所遇到的异常困难，都极大地刺激了他。海伦现在在他看来比他最初想象的还要美丽——“那双眼睛如此温柔地注视着，”他想，“那双黑色的睫毛——那红晕来来去去是如此美丽——她身上有一种羞怯的优雅。”动作，还有那优美的身材——还有那高贵的脖子！——总而言之，她很迷人！她一定会被认为是我的！”

她会为他的品味增光添彩。他以为她会的，当她还有一点的时候 世界用法，好好维护他家的荣誉；训练她将是一件令人愉快的事！——如果他能在她见识更多世界之前就投入她的感情，她可能真的会为了他而爱他——而丘吉尔希望，如果可能的话，因为他的缘故而被真正地爱着。看在自己的份上;但他对现代爱情的现实性表示怀疑，尤其是对于像他这样富有、年龄如此大的人来说。然而，由于海伦的年轻和纯真，他开始认为自己有机会进行无私的依恋，因此他决定为她展现他思想中更高的力量——他性格中更好的部分。

有一天，达维南特夫人谈到了伦敦的谈话。 “如此辉煌，”她说，“如此短暂，正如我的朋友埃米琳·K女士曾经说过的那样，‘伦敦的智慧就像气体，一触即燃，一触即灭；’”达文南特最后对他表示称赞，众所周知，“触摸和去” 良好的谈话达到完美。

丘吉尔先生向他的恭维鞠了一躬，但随后叹了口气，这似乎是发自内心的真诚的叹息。房间里只有达文南特夫人和海伦，他转向达文南特夫人说：

“如果我拥有它，我已经为此付出了高昂的代价，超出了它的价值，因为牺牲了更高的力量而付出了太多的代价；我可能是一个与现在的我截然不同的人。”

海伦的注意力立刻被吸引住了。但达维南特夫人怀疑他现在只是为了效果而说话。他明白她的想法——部分正确，但不完全正确。他此刻感觉到了他所说的话；此外，当一个人能够在不让自己受到嘲笑的情况下谈论自己，并且有机会获得真正的同情时，总是会感到一种真诚的快乐。

“我很不幸，”他说，“在童年时期就被母亲宠坏了。”

当他说出“母亲”这个词时，无论是他自己的心，还是海伦的眼睛，都让他顿住了，脸上露出了恭敬的温柔。儿子责怪母亲的溺爱，是很残忍的；但事实是，她把他当成一个聪明的孩子提得太早了，给他喂了太多甜蜜而危险的赞美露水。孩子——男人——之后必须为此受苦。

“是的，非常正确，”达维南特夫人说。 “我非常同意你的看法。”

“如果没有阿谀奉承的话，我什么也做不了。”他继续说道，接着他看到的忏悔路线吸引了达维南特夫人的注意力。 “不幸的是，我太早拥有了一大笔财产，进入了伦敦的世界，我一边奔跑一边舔着繁荣的溪流，那是甜甜的，带着阿谀奉承，令人陶醉，我知道这一点，却无法克制。它。那么在伦敦的生活中，每件事都太刺激——过度兴奋。如果博物馆和公共图书馆对科学和文学家有很大的优势，那么 阿维森纳 随心所欲地拥有书籍，以及等待你所有追求的侍奉精神的好处——除了时间之外，一切都太多了，而时间又太少了。宝藏触手可及，却抓不住；我们有，但我们不能坚持。我们既没有闲暇去行善，也没有闲暇去伟大：当他几乎不能为今天而活时，谁能想到为子孙后代而活呢？一天的时间永远不够。由于缺乏时间，而且由于必须了解的数量巨大，因此不可避免地需要肤浅。”

“为什么这是不可避免的必要性？”达维南特夫人问道。

“因为 应该 等待 必须，即使不是在其他地方，也总是在伦敦，”丘吉尔说。

“对话答案，”达文南特夫人回答。

“是的，我允许；甚至如此，正是如此，伦敦谈话的坏习惯导致了这样的伎俩，这样的文字游戏。”当他继续谈到伦敦社会的日常竞争所产生的琐碎嫉妒、微不足道的嫉妒和悲惨的自私敏感性时，达文南特夫人对他的坦诚勇气感到惊讶。这样的分歧，这样的争吵——一个不光彩但恰当的词——在文学界，甚至在科学家之间，如此可悲、如此可耻的争吵。 “而谁，”他继续说道，“谁能希望逃离这样一个被污染的气氛——一个充满生机、充满无数嗡嗡作响、令人刺痛的虚荣心的气氛！它确实需要赫拉克勒斯的力量，思想和身体，来完成我们的劳动，时尚的，政治的， 贝尔精神，对于凡人来说实在是太多了。在议会、在政治、在拉锯战中，你会看到最坚强的头脑是如何失败的，以及如何不合时宜地——”

“不要触及这个话题，”达维南特夫人突然激动起来，喊道。然后，她克制住自己，平静地补充道：“我认为，由于你现在不在议会，所以这不会影响到你。你在说什么？——你的身心健康，我想你说过，你是明智的，却受到了伤害——”

“这些紧张、持续的比赛伤害了我。我的健康首先受到影响，然后是我的脾气。本来很好，现在，正如你所见，我恐怕”——看了海伦一眼，海伦连忙低下头，“我恐怕我烦躁了。”

一阵尴尬的沉默。海伦以为是达维南特夫人说话。但达文南特夫人并没有反驳丘吉尔先生。现在，不反驳一个正在虐待自己的人，是对自爱最令人发指的冒犯之一。摘下面具扔到脸上常常会引发虚假的坦诚。但要么是霍勒斯·丘吉尔先生的坦白是真实的，要么是他当时小心谨慎，没有发生这样的灾难。

“比这对我的脾气造成的坏影响更糟糕！”他继续说：“我觉得我的整个心智都退化了——我的野心缩减到了最短的限度——我的思想收缩到了只注重效果的狭隘视野；在餐桌上或在俱乐部里，什么会令我高兴——这个文学圈子或那个时尚的闺房里会怎么看我。而为此 沙龙声誉 我已经牺牲了获得其他名声的所有希望，获得它的所有力量，“——”的所有希望，他在达文南特夫人的绣架上低声说了几句话，但语气仍然如此，让海伦不禁认为他意味着她应该听到）——“如果我有一颗这样的心——”他停顿了一下，仿佛被某种痛苦的想法击中，他深深地叹了口气，然后补充道——“但我没有一颗值得这样接受的心，或者我会提出报价。”

海伦不确定这些话是什么意思，但她现在可怜他，她钦佩他的坦率，她认为他的坦率远远高于他一开始对自己做出的不公正的表现，她抓住了第一个机会告诉博克勒克丘吉尔先生对达文南特夫人和她说过的一切，以及这件事给他们俩留下的印象。博克勒克经常和她讨论丘吉尔先生的性格，但当她发现她所说的话并没有给博克勒克留下愉快的印象时，她很失望：起初他很沉默，当她问他的想法时，他说——“这都是非常好，非常聪明。”

“但这都是真的，”海伦说，“我钦佩丘吉尔先生如此了解真相并如此坦诚地讲述它。”

“丘吉尔先生所说的每一句话都可能是真的——但我认为真相并不在他身上。”

“你通常不会那么多疑，”海伦说。 “如果你听到了丘吉尔先生的声音和强调的语气，看到了他当时的神情和举止，我想你就不会怀疑他了。”

她越是急切，博克勒克先生就越冷漠。他说：“我知道，外表、举止、声音和强调会给女士们留下深刻的印象。”

“但是，博克勒克先生，你有什么理由不相信呢？ “我只听说你相信丘吉尔先生所说的一切都是真的，但你却不相信他的真理。”海伦语带嘲讽地说。

以前很多次，当博克勒克自己的一个悖论出现在他面前时，他都是第一个笑出来的。但现在他的表情与其说是好笑，倒不如说是脸色难看，他认真地寻找理由来调和他表面上的自相矛盾。

“首先，所有这些典故和隐喻性的表达方式，你都记得那么清楚，而且毫无疑问值得记住，所有这些都没有给我一个真正真诚地感受、说话的人的想法。关于缺点的简单事实，如果他对此有任何感觉，他一定羞于以如此宏大的风格谈论；除了对最亲密的朋友之外，谈论这些事情对于一个曾表达过对自我主义者如此恐惧、而且总体上过于谨慎的人来说，似乎是非常不自然的，而且完全不符合他的性格。”

“是的，但是丘吉尔先生忘记了他所有谨慎的小习惯，以及所有对嘲笑的恐惧，这就是他非常认真的最好证明——他所说的一切都是出于他的内心。”

“我怀疑他是否还有心，”博克勒克说。

“可怜的人，他说——”海伦开始说道，然后想起了这句话，“否则我会提出要约，”她突然停了下来，担心他们可能会承受这样的解释，然后，为自己的恐惧感到羞耻，她脸色深深地红了。 。

“可怜的人，他说——”博克勒克重复道，眼睛盯着她，“我可以问他说什么吗？”

“不，”海伦说，“我不确定我是否清楚地听到或理解了丘吉尔先生的意思。”

“哦，如果有什么秘密的话！”博克莱尔请求原谅。

他很快就走了。他没有再谈及这个话题，但海伦看出他从未忘记过。她听到他对达维南特夫人说了他不喜欢半信半疑的几句话，就知道他很不高兴，她认为他错了。她开始担心他对丘吉尔的不信任源于对他在社会上取得的卓越成功的嫉妒。尽管她急于保持对丘吉尔的坦率的新的好感，但她不想失去对博克勒克慷慨的敬意。丘吉尔先生愿意利用博克勒克抛出的任何想法，而他却把这些想法装扮成自己的想法，这是否有可能让他受到严重伤害？也许这就是他所说的“真理不在他之内”的意思。她记得有一天，当她坐在他和博克勒克之间时，他似乎根本没有注意博克勒克先生对她说的话，却又全神贯注，因为他显然一直在为公司讲话。大家都听过格兰维尔讲述的中国寓言：“月中人，其职责是用一根无形的丝线将有缘人编织在一起。”不久，甜点结束前，海伦发现了坐在桌子另一端的“中国月中人”，她以为自己已经拥有了他，并受到了热烈的掌声。博克勒克拥有丰富的天才源泉，他是否可能会因为从他身上偷走一滴而心怀怨恨呢？但在这件事上，他没有任何嫉妒，他认为这种盗窃行为，无论多么小，都是盗窃行为，并且鄙视小偷的卑鄙行为，这是正确的。奇怪的是，这种卑鄙行为与丘吉尔先生坦白承认自己的错误是不相容的。难道那份告白只是为了效果吗？

有时，丘吉尔先生谈话中一种特别幸福的思想、优美的表达或优美的语言会激发她的钦佩之情。有一次，博克勒克满怀热情地谈论现代希腊，希望她能恢复古代的性格。丘吉尔先生似乎很欣赏大家的热情，但又用更好的判断力来调和它，他微笑着，停顿了一下，然后回答道。

“但对于政治投机者来说，希腊是一个危险的领域；想象力产生了一种类似于西西里海峡有时展现的美丽景象的幻觉；古希腊辉煌的倒影在人们的脑海中快速闪过。我们对伟大和辉煌的迷人形式感到高兴，暂时忘记了这个场景实际上是赤裸裸的浪费。”

有些人说他们可以区分书面风格和口语风格，但这在很大程度上取决于演讲者的艺术。丘吉尔可以用口语的语气来表达已经写好的句子，并且可以以一种即兴的优雅、一种不顾一切准备的漫不经心的语气说出来。还有眼神、停顿和沉淀——所有这些都有助于演员完善幻觉的力量。如果你听过、见过他，你就会相信，在讲这段话时，他的思想是 法塔莫尔加纳 此刻，他的脑海中浮现出这样的想法：看到你的想法令你高兴，他本人也为之感到高兴，在你智慧的目光的鼓励下，在你的同情心的推动下，这位能言善辩的人怀着一种幸福而不是关心的心情，遵循了自己的想法，谈话中令人钦佩。几天后，海伦非常惊讶地发现她所欣赏的句子逐字逐句地写在一本书中，当她打开书时，丘吉尔的名片从书中掉了下来。

没有名字的人被贺拉斯视为野蛮人，他们不知道自己的黄金的价值。他似乎认为，如果他们碰巧拥有戒指和珠宝，他们可能会毫无悔意地从里面夺走，并被某个幸运的文明冒险家更好地利用。然而，在他最成功的海盗行动中，他总是被被发现的恐惧所困扰，他尤其害怕达文南特夫人敏锐的洞察力；他认为她怀疑他的挪用艺术，于是他抓住了第一个方便的机会，就这一点表达了她的意见。

“我多么喜欢，”他对塞西莉亚女士说，“给你讲一个好故事，因为你从不问这是否是事实。现在，在一个好故事中，没有人坚持绝对的事实；一定要有一些小点缀。没有人会把自己或朋友的故事公诸于世，除非‘头上戴一顶帽子，手里拿着一根棍子’”，丘吉尔得意地引用道。这次他没有偷。

“但是，”达文南特夫人说，“我发现，即使我对纯粹的特色或幽默叙述感到高兴，也会因为我对叙述者的真相——真相的性格——的依赖而增强。”

不仅是霍勒斯·丘吉尔，几乎所有在场的人，除了海伦，都承认他们不能同意她的观点。讲故事者的真实性格与他的故事无关，除非是 历史的，或者他要发誓。

“而且即使是 历史的”贺拉斯喊道，此时潮水对他有利，他浮了起来，漂得比谨慎的更远——“即使它是 历史的，优美的小说比严酷、僵硬的事实要令人愉快得多；以我的愚见，这是多么有趣啊！”

“现在，”达维南特夫人说，“例如，我正在读的这本书——（这是杜蒙的《米拉波回忆录》）——我正在读的这本书，从我的确定的知识和我完美的信念中给我带来了无限的快乐。论作者的真实性。你可能会说，在某些情况下，某些事实的不言而喻的性质会证明自己；但事实并非如此。但我察觉到他只说他所知道的事实，只说自己所知道的真实情况，我完全依赖讲述者的个人品格，这使他讲述的每一个轶事都充满了热情——他所说的每一个对话单词都具有特定的分量。重复——对他所描述的人的每一个机智或幽默特征给予适当的重视。如果没有这样的信念，这些人物对我来说就不会像现在一样拥有自然和现实的所有力量、魅力和生命。它们现在都作为确实存在的单个品种的记录而具有价值。虽然最杰出的作家可以通过小说产生一种效果，其价值仅在于代表了人性的一般平均水平，但对我们的积极知识、对我们未来可以推理的数据没有任何贡献。”

丘吉尔太了解达文南特夫人了，听着她讲话，他会感到很尴尬。当她接着说，如果这些回忆录是米拉波本人写的，她在阅读这些回忆录时会有多么不同的感觉。尽管他才华横溢，才华横溢，但她的享受和指导是多么逊色啊！他日渐萎缩的良心告诉他这一切如何适用于他自己。然而，奇怪的是，尽管他有些羞愧，但一想到自己与米拉波有相似之处，他还是感到受宠若惊。到 米拉博德 这不是一件容易的事；如果不是真正的名声，那也是一条通往恶名昭彰的道路。

但即使在他性格中较好的部分，即他在金钱问题上的慷慨，他对后起之秀的善意赞助，他内心的卑鄙也爆发了。有一位年轻的女诗人，受到他的鼓励。她碰巧是达文南勋爵的秘书梅普莱托夫先生的妹妹，她对丘吉尔先生的好意表示了热烈的感激。她打算在丘吉尔先生的赞助下出版一本十四行诗集，而她现在恰好在附近的某个乡村小镇，丘吉尔先生请求塞西莉亚夫人允许他向她介绍这位年轻的女作家。她被邀请去克拉伦登公园几天，丘吉尔先生热心地为她争取订阅，并渴望借助他的时尚和文学声誉来宣传她的书的优点。 “确实，”他低声说道，“他在作曲方面给了她一些小小的帮助。”一切都很顺利，直到在一个邪恶的时刻，海伦对其中一首十四行诗的赞扬太多了——他想，比她称赞的还要多。另一个，那是他自己的。他的嫉妒心苏醒了——他开始批评他门生的诗歌。海伦捍卫了她的钦佩，并提醒他，他自己向她推荐了这些诗句。

“嗯！——是的——我确实对整件事尽了最大的努力，这对她来说是令人惊讶的——也就是说，我很担心这份出版物应该被接受。但如果我们来比较的话——你知道这不能经受可能进行的某些比较。斯坦利小姐自己的品味和判断力必须认识到——当我们谈论天才时——这是完全不可能的，你知道。”

贺拉斯在他的博爱和他的嫉妒之间感到如此困惑，他渴望展示一个而他无法隐藏另一个，他变得难以理解。海伦笑了，告诉他她现在无法理解他的真实想法。她说，她已经准备好同意他的观点，只要他同意自己的观点：这使他更加不同意自己，不幸的是，不同意更好的自己，他的仁慈在他的嫉妒和坏脾气面前完全消失了，他把它发泄在书上；现在，他不再预言它的成功，而是对“悲伤的、粗心的台词”、“毫无结果的段落”、“当你来审视它们时，它们的明喻是站不住脚的”而抱怨。

海伦在致辞中指出了一个美丽而幸福的想法。

霍拉斯微笑着，承认那是他自己的。

什么！在对自己的奉献中？——在他的虚荣心的盲目性中，他没有立即看出其中的荒谬。

他越觉得自己错了，他当然就越生气，最后他完全放弃了奉献精神，宣布他不会有任何奉献精神。这本书和这位女士可能会找到更好的赞助人。有些事情是任何一个真正慷慨的人都无法说出、做或想到的，从而使他如此热情。他不会对一个下等人——一个女人——一个他赋予义务的门生严厉；但丘吉尔先生很严厉——他既不表现出慷慨，也不表现出感情。海伦对他的好感也不再上升了。

然而，他并没有足够的同情心和洞察力来意识到这一点。

现在克拉伦登公园的聚会主要由年轻人组成。其中有塞西莉亚夫人的两个表兄弟，海伦在出国之前就在塞西尔赫斯特认识了他们，当时她还是个孩子。凯特琳·霍克斯比夫人是长辈，比塞西莉亚大几岁。当海伦最后一次见到她时，她长得还算漂亮，非常时尚，而且精神抖擞，热爱爱情。 测验，对于所有俗称的东西 开玩笑，还有嘲笑的天赋，她以牺牲所有人为代价来纵容这种天赋。她总是让塞西莉亚觉得很有趣，塞西莉亚认为她更有趣，而不是脾气暴躁。但海伦认为她的脾气比有趣更坏，从来不喜欢她，并且有她自己的私人理由认为她不是塞西莉亚的好朋友：但是现在，要么是伦敦生活的磨损，要么是伦敦生活的磨损和撕裂的结果。爱情失意，婚姻失意，她失去了青春时的鲜活丰润；以前让她脸上充满活力的欢乐精神，即使不是幽默感，也消失了。瘦削而蜡黄，棱角分明的五官依然存在，讽刺却没有了拱门的表情；但她的气质仍然很时尚。正如她的衣着所显示的那样，她对青春的伪装并没有消失。她对婚姻的希望虽然减弱，但尚未确定。她小很多岁的妹妹路易莎，现在的卡斯尔福特夫人，非常美丽。作为一个女孩，她是可以想象的最感伤、最优雅、最精致的人。总是在谈论诗歌——而且如此浪漫——用如此柔和、甜美、消逝的声音——双唇张开——还有如此美丽的眼睛，可以如此欣喜若狂地仰望天堂，也可以如此沮丧，迷人地陷入沉思：——现在她已经结婚了，一切还是一样。她就在那里，在克拉伦登公园的图书馆里，旁边的红木小桌上放着当时最伤感的时尚小说，装帧精美，还有一首手稿诗，一个伟大的秘密，《爱的最后叹息》，她的包里放着她的嗅瓶和绣花手帕；她优雅地靠在那只美丽的手臂上，脸上带着柔和而疲惫的表情。穿着也如此完美——比以前更英俊了。

海伦很好奇，想知道路易莎夫人嫁给了一个什么样的男人，因为她记得，读过或谈论过的任何小说中的英雄都没有一个能想到她关于英雄应该是什么样子、男人必须是什么样子的想法。是她能想到爱的人。塞西莉亚告诉海伦，她见过卡斯尔福特勋爵，但当时他不是卡斯尔福特勋爵，或者很可能是卡斯尔福特勋爵。她让她根据她在塞西尔赫斯特见过的人的记忆，猜猜路易莎选择的男人可能是谁。卡特琳女士带着无限的隐忍，微笑着，没有给出任何暗示，而海伦则猜啊猜，都是徒劳。当她看到他走进房间时，她吃了一惊。他是一个有点畸形的人，路易莎夫人总是对她的同伴们表示出一种特殊的憎恶。他有一种自负的表情，不幸的是，有时这种自负伴随着个人的畸形，甚至连怜悯自己都感到厌恶。据说卡斯尔福特勋爵宣称自己是为爱和战斗而生的！海伦记得心地善良的塞西莉亚经常为了人性而劝谏，于是便停止了私底下的猜疑，而讽刺的姐姐则认为： 小博苏 爱上了路易莎。

但是什么 可以 让她嫁给他？里面有什么东西可以弥补外表吗？没有什么——没有什么可以“让他摆脱背后的肿块”。但比爱情或童话的变形更重要的是命运的变形。命运突然让他获得了无数的财富和一个头衔，并且不再 小博苏，卡斯尔福特勋爵获得了公平之手——路易莎霍克斯比夫人非常公平的之手， 再加上美女！

海伦仍然不敢相信路易莎是自愿嫁给他的。但塞西莉亚女士向她保证，这是自愿的，非常自愿的。 “如果你看到了 嫁妆 和 篮，因为你知道，'现在的事比未来的事更重要'”。

海伦几乎笑不出来。

“但是路易莎有感觉——真的有感觉，”塞西莉亚女士继续说道。 “但她无力遵循它。她负债累累，真不知道如果卡斯尔福特勋爵没有求婚，她会怎么做；但她心肠小，我可以告诉你一个秘密；但不，我会让你高兴地发现它。”

“这对我来说一点也不高兴，”海伦说。

“我从来没有见过有人如此沮丧，”塞西莉亚夫人笑着喊道，“对别人不幸的婚姻，她一直认为很幸运。她很高兴，据推测，就连卡特琳也不再嘲笑他了。现在这可不是开玩笑的事了。”

“确实不，”海伦说。

“也不是哭的事，”塞西莉亚说。 “亲爱的，不要用震惊的眼神看着我，这不是我做的；但很多人都这样做，而且我经常看到这种情况，所以我不能带着如此愚蠢的责备表情感到惊讶——亲爱的海伦，我确实相信，你嫉妒是因为路易莎在你之前结婚了！真是耻辱，我的爱人！嫉妒是一种顽皮的激情，你知道我们的博纳夫人常说；但这是妈妈，现在请和她谈谈路易莎·卡斯尔福特，祈祷吧。”

达维南特夫人非常冷静地对待这件事，对这场比赛既不感到震惊也不感到惊讶，她知道很多更糟糕的事情。据她回忆，卡斯尔福特勋爵是一个很容易相处的人。 “毕竟，”她说，“这比我们每天看到的要好，公平中最美丽的人明知故犯，心甘情愿地把自己奉献给最挥霍的人，总之，市场上充斥着多才多艺的年轻女士。一方面，另一方面，男人发现妻子和场所如此昂贵，俱乐部如此便宜，但比任何家庭都豪华得多，自由不仅如此甜蜜，而且如此时尚，以至于他们的政策，他们的格言是，“不结婚”无论如何，或者如果婚姻最终是为了偿还债务和留下好名声的继承人所必需的，那就尽可能晚结婚；”因此，利益相反的两方就会陷入困境，或者试图以智取胜或讨价还价。如果你想知道整个事件的寓意，这里是从粗俗的保姆，他们的知识渊博，英语蹩脚，家庭女教师的法语好或坏，到客厅里优雅的暗示，所有的一切都在为了同样的效果而努力：舞蹈大师、音乐大师和整个部落，这一切的目的是什么，只是为了让年轻的女士们为盛大的活动做好准备；除了自然的、人为的、抽象的关于婚姻的美好观念之外，还让他们在心里产生一种观念！现在的每个女孩都很早就被这样的观念所打动：她必须结婚，不结婚就不可能幸福。这是我前几天所说的“心灵的力量”的一个例子；需要一定的精神力量才能胜过这种愚蠢、虚荣、庸俗的信仰。”

“这并不需要我多大的意志力，”海伦说，“因为我真的从来没有形成过这样的观念。它们从来没有很早就被放进我的脑海里；我叔叔总是说女人未婚可能会很幸福。我不认为我会因为成为一个老处女而死去而感到恐惧。”

“亲爱的，你还没到时候，”达维南特夫人微笑着说道。 “看看卡特琳女士；如果她在这一问题上拥有坚定的意志力，她就不会成为嫉妒、嫉妒和所有心灵贪婪激情的牺牲品。

“在古法语中 政权”，达维南特夫人继续说道，“这些年轻女子至少在修道院之外安全地结婚了；但我们的年轻女士们，脑子里装满了浮夸的诗歌和伤感的小说，在结婚前就被带入这个世界，期望看到而不是选择，表现出最令人愉快的，并且期望注定要嫁给最可憎的人。但是，在所有这些稳固的婚姻中，最没有感情的妻子不仅可能是最幸福的，而且也最有可能表现得很好。首先，它们并不是从谎言开始的。如果她们没有心，她们就不能假装把心给了丈夫，这比把心给了别人要好。在这种情况下，丈夫和妻子清楚地理解了协议的条款，只期望、想象不到他们所拥有的，然后他们一起慢跑，非常舒适地走到生命的尽头。”

“舒服！”海伦惊呼道：“这一定是最悲惨的。”

“海伦，这不是最悲惨的事，”达维南特夫人说，“保持对他人的怜悯吧；为那些需要叹息的人保留你的叹息——为那颗不再敢为自己发出叹息的心，为那颗敢于爱却不敢遵守自己选择的脆弱的心。这些痴情的生物，内心深处的情感根部仍在疼痛，必须吸食他们能找到的鸦片；在来世，在他们的婚姻生活中，他们的祈祷必须是为了冷漠，如果祈祷得到批准，他们会心存感激。”

那天晚上，当卡斯尔福特夫人唱起温柔而热情的曲子时，海伦又想起了这些话。以真正的圣塞西莉亚风格和态度演奏竖琴；最后，她用迷人的声音和感人的表情唱起了她最喜欢的歌曲——“为时已晚”。

丘吉尔先生和博克勒克先生都是这群绅士中的一员。两人对她来说都不陌生。丘吉尔先生作为鉴赏家赞叹不已。博克勒克默默地听着。丘吉尔先生请求更多​​——更多——并列举了几首他最喜欢的意大利歌曲。夫人实在不行。但是，博克勒克哪怕有最轻微的愿望，她也没有转向他，就被听到了，也被注意到了，因为她的姐姐没有不说出来，也没有让其他人说出来。

当丘吉尔先生正在寻找一些杰作时，卡特琳夫人抓住了一个方便的停顿，祝贺她的妹妹恢复了她的声音，并声称自从她结婚以来直到今晚她从未听过她的演奏或唱歌。

“我向你保证，你可能会认为这是一种非常特殊的赞美，”她继续说道，她对博克勒克先生如此特别地称呼，以至于他不禁有点失脸，“我已经如此恳求和祈祷了，但她从来没有声音或幽默，或内心，或其他什么。昨天，就连卡斯尔福特都差点跪下来唱歌了——不是吗，卡斯尔福特勋爵？”

卡斯尔福特勋爵捏着尖下巴，露出愤怒的表情，用不和谐的声音回答道：“我不记得了！”

“一切都好，一切都好，一切都好”卡特琳女士弯下腰协助丘吉尔先生寻找音乐书，对他低声说道——“一切都好，一切都好，一切都好，应该成为所有已婚人士的座右铭。”

卡斯尔福特夫人显得很苦恼，她翻动着树叶，结果什么也没找到，她不顾众人的恳求，站了起来，把这个地方留给了她姐姐，她说，“她是一个更好的音乐家”而且没那么愚蠢地紧张。”卡斯尔福特夫人说，“当她——”的时候，她的声音总是消失了。

话到此为止。但她叹了口气，优雅地退了出去，所有的绅士都可怜她。

在某个时刻，邪恶的本性会真诚地忏悔——在它看到对其受害者感到怜悯的那一刻。

贺拉斯跟着卡斯尔福特夫人来到了脚凳上，她倒在了上面。博克莱克仍然靠在卡特琳夫人的椅背上，但似乎没有听到她说的话或唱的歌。过了一段时间，丘吉尔先生发现他的关注没有得到很好的回应，或者厌倦了支付，他离开了卡斯尔福特夫人，而是坐在了海伦身边。他用一种只有她能听到但其他人听不到的声音说道——

“真是松了一口气！——我想我永远都不应该逃脱！”然后，在卡特琳娜夫人大声的勇敢的支持下，他继续说道——“在你我之间，那个美人有点令人厌烦——她——我不是指现在尖叫的那位女士——她应该总是唱歌。上天赐予她歌声，而不是理智——但这里的人却变得如此挑剔！”

他叹了口气，有那么一会儿，他似乎全神贯注于卡特琳娜夫人和一名军官正在表演的二重唱。然后大声喊道，但只有海伦听得见：“仁慈的老天啊！人们多么希望自己没有耳朵：琼斯船长一定是斯坦托尔和那位女士的儿子！——如果天使有时在唱歌时在镜子里看到自己——地球上就会有和平。

海伦不喜欢成为他的违禁好东西的秘密接收者，正要站起来改变她的位置，当他温柔地拘留她时，他说：“不要害怕，没有危险——相信我，因为我是在塔尔玛手下学习的。”

“你这是什么意思？”

“我的意思是，”他继续说，“塔尔玛教给我他临终场景的秘密——如何让最远的观众都能听到他临终话语中的每一个音节；我——相信我的聪明才智——知道如何通过颠倒艺术，在十步的距离内完全听不见，但我相信，对你来说，总是完全可以理解的。”

海伦现在果断地站了起来，退到房间另一边的一张桌子旁，翻了翻那儿的一些书——她拿起卡斯尔福特夫人一直在读的一卷小说——“爱是不容置疑的。”她惊讶地发现它立刻就从她手中轻轻地、但又坚决地抽走了：她抬起头来——那是博克勒克。

“请原谅，斯坦利小姐，但是——”

“谢谢你！谢谢你！”海伦说； “你不用求我原谅。”

自从他们发生了难以理解的误会以来，这是博克勒克第一次以友好、亲切、自然的方式对她说话。她由衷地高兴这一切都结束了，他又恢复了正常。现在他们在一起愉快地交谈了一段时间。尽管他们所说的话可能不是特别值得记录。卡特琳女士在海伦的肘部发现她“正在寻找她的囊”；卡斯尔福特夫人来取她的第三卷，然后就溜走了，祝愿所有人——”快乐，快乐设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

这对姐妹从来都不喜欢海伦。她对一个人来说太真诚了，对另一个人来说又太善良了。凯特琳夫人在很小的时候就一直嫉妒塞西莉亚夫人对海伦的感情。现在，当她发现自己在克拉伦登公园定居时，她感到非常愤怒和失望——与克拉伦登一家住在一起， 出去 与塞西莉亚女士。现在，姐妹俩的计划是，卡特琳夫人这次的来访应该是永恒的。现在无需考虑，即使海伦不可能，他们如何才能将她的夫人地位固定在将军身上。他们对海伦的失望和厌恶之深，仿佛她是实现他们计划的唯一障碍。

这两姐妹从来没有同意过——

——《命运注定》
生活在仇恨的优雅之中；”

自从卡斯尔福特夫人结婚以来，年轻的、美丽的现在是成功的上升女士，而年长的则在嫉妒和依赖的综合痛苦中挣扎，而且改善她的状况的机会每天都在减少。卡斯尔福特勋爵也出于他自己众所周知的充分理由厌恶卡特琳女士，并渴望摆脱她。至少在这个愿望中，夫妻团结一致；但卡斯尔福特夫人却没有正当理由急于摆脱她的妹妹。她在城镇和乡村都有宏伟的房子，到处都有宽敞的空间——但在她的心里。她的心是最微小的，也是最冷酷的。但如果它如此之大，或如此温暖，卡特琳女士肯定不是那个能进入其中的人，也不是进入任何男人或女人的心的人：那里有绝望。 “如果卡特琳已经结婚了——先生。丘吉尔，你猜？”

微弱的是 假设 在卡斯尔福特夫人的想象中。卡特琳夫人一看到他在这里，心中升起的希望却并非如此。 “真幸运！”夫人现在已经到了一个不寻常的年龄，一个显着的形而上学现象发生了。对某一特定主题的希望随着所有成功可能性的降低而增加。人们通常认为，非常聪明的女性的智力异常最为严重。而丘吉尔先生，她目前所希望的受宠若惊的对象，知道如何以极大的天真和谦虚来应对，并吸引她进行所谓的调情行为。

卢梭说，当一个男人被置于两个正在做爱的女人之间时，他总是感到尴尬和痛苦。但卢梭从未见过丘吉尔先生，对当今一个有造诣的男性风骚人物可以成功地表现出的技巧和模糊性的了解并不完美。绝对让女性盲目嫉妒可能超出了他的能力范围；但正如每天的实践所表明的那样，很容易让女性的虚荣心因视觉欺骗而愉快地困惑——让她相信她真正看到的东西她没有看到，并且不真实的东西是现实：让她开心观众不断地伸出她的手去抢夺她永远无法抓住的幻想中的美好事物，或者在靠近时变成咧着嘴笑的嘲笑。

这场令人愉快的游戏现在由卡特琳女士开始，如果能带上海伦来抢夺，那将无限增加观看者的兴趣和乐趣。然而，这似乎没有什么机会。但嫉妒的邪恶目光注视着她，嫉妒的恶魔渴望给她带来痛苦。

卡斯尔福特夫人轻蔑地惊讶地发现，博克勒克先生的眼睛有时在说话或唱歌时，会转向房间里斯坦利小姐可能在的地方；当她和他说话时，他却出奇地缺席。夫人使他振作起来，而卡特琳夫人在一旁看着，以她可怕的方式清了清喉咙，渴望有机会让海伦感到不安，这是她夫人在第一个方便的场合向自己许诺的至高无上的快乐——当达文南特夫人外出时的方便意思房间的；因为卡特琳女士虽然受到嫉妒的驱使，但在这种保护的掩护下不敢攻击她。出于长期的习惯，就连她爱讽刺的天性也对某种道德义愤的力量感到敬畏，这种力量有时会闪现到她身上，她对这种力量有一种迷信的恐惧，就像对一种无法理解、无法估量的力量一样。

但脾气会战胜一切谨慎。塞西莉亚夫人在选择衣服颜色时对海伦的品味表现出了一些小小的偏好，这激怒了她，这是她无法抗拒的报复的机会。即将到来的女装制服应该采用蓝色、绿色还是白色，这是一个需要公开决定的问题。 盛宴。她被委派去收集选票。所有连队都已集合；达维南特夫人不在圈子里，因为这与她无关，她正在与先生们单独交谈。

卡特琳夫人四处游说。 “蓝色、绿色还是白色？说蓝色， 祈祷”。但当她走到海伦身边时，她停了下来，没有问任何问题——更不想祈祷，但在停顿一下集中注意力后，她说：“我不需要询问斯坦利小姐的投票或意见，因为我知道我表弟的投票或意见，并且与斯坦利小姐总是说：“我对塞西莉亚女士也这么说；”因此，为了省事，我总是给塞西莉亚数两个——一个给她自己，一个给她 翻番设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“好的，卡特琳·霍克斯比女士，”远处传来一个声音，这让她吃了一惊。 “你认为海伦·斯坦利是我女儿的替身，这是完全正确的，因为我女儿爱她并尊重她，就像她的第二个自我——她更好的自己。从这个意义上说，海伦是塞西莉亚女士的替身，但如果你的意思是——”

“保佑我（宗教！我不知道我的意思，我声明。我无法想象达维南特女士——斯坦利小姐，我恳求一千万的原谅。”

海伦心急如焚，在被请求之前就原谅了她，并赶紧开始处理今天的事情，但达维南特夫人不肯就这样过去。她的眼睛仍然紧盯着她，追赶着胆战心惊的敌人——“再说一句话。为了我女儿的公正，我必须说她的爱并不是靠奉承赢得的，因为没有人比卡特琳·霍克斯比女士更了解这一点。”

最不友善的切口，也是最温柔的部位。卡特琳女士无法忍受。她意识清醒，浑身发抖，冲破了包围圈，逃进了温室，关上了身后的门，不再有海伦、塞西莉亚或任何人尾随。

卡斯尔福特夫人叹了口气，首先打破了随之而来的沉默，说道：“真可惜，卡特琳娜总是让她的智慧随她而去——这让她不断地陷入——就我而言，我必须谦卑地坦白说，我情不自禁地想，既然它不女性化，而且与一般认为的和蔼可亲的东西完全不相容，我不得不认为女人的智慧是真正的不幸。先生们怎么说？他们必须做出决定，先生们永远是最好的法官。”

她用一种诱人的审问语气优雅地抬头看着两位先生。她看了一眼格兰维尔·博克勒克，不幸的是没有人注意到或没有回答，她的眼睛期待着霍勒斯·丘吉尔的答复。他清楚地感觉到自己所处的困境，介于傻瓜和傻瓜之间 精神女性”带着暧昧的微笑回答说，“毫无疑问，拥有‘plus d'esprit qu'on ne sait mêner'”。

“这是一种不幸，”达维南特夫人说，“对于一个时代只有一次的伟大天才来说，这可能会令人遗憾，但实际上这种情况并不常见。人们抱怨才智，十有八九，愚笨的才智是很无辜的；但这就是与坏人交往的后果。机智和邪恶经常同时存在，当我们看到其中之一时，我们就会想到另一个；这种密不可分的错误联系已经形成，以至于世界上一半的人理所当然地认为，只要他们看到邪恶的本性，他们就有智慧。”

这时，秘书梅普莱托夫特先生进来了，他满脸关切，手里捧满了文件。卡特琳夫人不需要假装或对达文南夫人感到任何进一步的担忧；因为一小时后，有人宣布达文南勋爵和夫人必须立即动身进城。在匆忙的准备过程中，达维南特夫人找到了一个时刻安慰海伦，并保证无论发生什么，她都会再次见到她。最终可能会导致达维南特勋爵的大使馆被放弃。无论如何，她都会再次见到她——她希望几周后，也许几天后。 “所以，不要告别，我亲爱的孩子，也不要流泪——这样就最好了。回来后让我发现——”

“达维南特勋爵正在等待，我的女士，”她匆匆走开。

无论缺席还是在场，一位上级朋友的监护影响力都是世界上最大的祝福之一，达文南特夫人离开后，海伦充满了她对她说过的一切，以及她赞成或反对的一切，以至于每一个行动几乎每一个想法，都受到了她朋友心灵的影响。她不断地质疑自己的动机并审视自己的行为，她不得不谴责她对霍勒斯·丘吉尔的某些行为，或者如果不是她的行为，那就是她的态度。她对他的钦佩感到受宠若惊，当她自己对他的性格已经完全下定决心时，她却给予了他超出她应有的关注。自从女诗人的事件之后，她就坚信自己永远无法让如此卑鄙的人获得幸福，也无法挽回他的品格。

根据女士守则，女人永远不能理解绅士的关注不仅仅意味着普通的礼貌；无论如何，她应该永远看不到他的想法，除非他用言语表达出来。但是，由于海伦情不自禁地理解了他的举止，她认为通过她的举止让他了解她是公平的。她确信，一旦他彻底相信，他不仅没有留下任何印象，而且永远无法在她心里留下任何印象，他的追求就会停止。也许，他的虚荣心受到了羞辱，可能会报复她。但她认为她应该勇敢地面对这种危险。现在她决定要非常真诚，正如她对自己说的那样，无论有什么危险（可能是冒着让塞西莉亚不高兴的危险），她都会明确自己的观点，并结束丘吉尔先生的模棱两可的行为：这应该一有机会就完成。

机会很快就出现了——贺拉斯有一枚漂亮的小黄玉戒指，凯特琳·霍克斯比夫人对它欣喜若狂；多么迷人的装置啊！——丘比特和莫莫斯把世界当作他们的玩物。

显然，卡特琳女士希望将这枚印章呈现给她。除了非常喜欢小玩意之外，她还希望得到贺拉斯的这种敬意。然而，令她惊讶和羞愧的是，他对她认可他的品味感到非常受宠若惊：这是他最喜欢的海豹，所以“他保留了黄玉，而流氓被咬了。”

卡特琳女士对这次失败感到更加羞愧，因为这件事被许多人目睹了，当她环顾四周时，她发现其中的笑容充满了挑衅智慧。不久之后，更衣铃响了，她离开了房间。每个人都陆续离开，除了正在写完一封信的海伦和站在炉边摆弄海豹的霍勒斯。当她到了海豹捕猎时间时，他走近并恳求她接受这只小海豹，以此表示对他的尊重。 “如果他能抹掉莫姆斯——如果他能只留下丘比特，那就更合适了。但这是一位法国朋友为他发明的装置，他希望她能原谅他的愚蠢，只想到他的爱！”

这么说是为了让这句话既可能只是开玩笑，也可能是认真的。他的眼神表达了非常感伤的爱意，海伦抓住时机，斩钉截铁地解释道。

这对丘吉尔先生来说是一个惊喜——一个巨大的惊喜，一个严重的失望，不仅对他的虚荣心，而且对他的心，因为他有一个。然而，令人欣慰的是，他还没有完全投入，而且他恢复了——即使在失望的时刻，他也巧妙地恢复了足够的时间，扭转了局面。

他感谢她的坦诚——感谢她对他的幸福的极大关心，预见到了对他来说可能是致命的危险；但他确实不知道自己说过的话需要如此严肃的回答。

后来，他以斯坦利小姐为代价，与卡特琳女士一起取乐，把自己描述为最可怜的拒绝地址案例——在他提出要求之前就被拒绝了。他只是犯了愚蠢的罪，而他却犯了爱情的罪。

可怜的海伦不仅要忍受这种很快就传到她耳中的谩骂，还要忍受塞西莉亚夫人的责备，她说：“我应该警告你，海伦，不要激怒那个男人无情的虚荣心；因为，我应该警告你，海伦，不要激怒那个男人无情的虚荣心。”现在你可以看到后果了。”

“但是，他到底能对我造成什么伤害呢？”海伦想。 “被人嘲笑虽然很不舒服，但良心还是满足的，那是一种长久的幸福；剩下的一切很快就会结束。我确信我做的事情很尴尬，但我很高兴它完成了。”

不久之后，丘吉尔先生收到了一份邀请——命令他参加现在在某个水源地举办的皇家聚会；一个杰出的人物如果没有贺拉斯就不能再活一天 欲望。他出示了纸条，并对被迫离开表现出绝望的样子，然后就离开了。他参加了那个盛大的聚会，并淹没了他所感受到的所有爱情的记忆，淹没在新鲜的虚荣心陶醉中——一种白天的刺激，无论多么有辱人格，他确实感到它有辱人格，现在已经成为他生存的必要条件。

塞西莉亚夫人公开对他离开克拉伦登公园表示遗憾，而卡特琳娜夫人则暗地里为她的计划的失败而哀悼，而博克勒克则试图掩饰他的满意。

他充满了生命和爱，如果不是现在海伦对他的态度发生了非凡的变化，他肯定会表达他的热情。这似乎是不可解释的；这不可能是绝对的任性，她甚至不把他当作朋友，而且她显然避免解释。他想了又想，尽可能地接近事实，但又不触及事实。他得出结论，她理解他对丘吉尔离开的喜悦。她现在清楚地察觉到了他的依恋；并坚决反对他。他根本不知道她把他当作已婚男人，甚至猜不出她的感情本质。海伦一直不太了解自己。她开始对自己的感觉感到极度惊慌——害怕有什么地方不太对劲。这种时而出现又消失的恐惧——这种对她自己感情的怀疑——首先是由她的鸽子——博克勒克的礼物——的死所激发的。一天早上，人们发现这只可怜的鸽子淹死在它去喝水的大理石花瓶里。海伦非常抱歉——这当然是理所当然的。但她非常担心。卡特琳女士嘲讽地说：在所有人面前，在博克勒克面前，比所有人更糟糕的是，她的夫人尽其所能地表现了海伦为自己的不幸而哀悼的态度，她手里的鸽子紧贴在她的怀里——“泪流满面——绝对是这样的。” ”。她会含着泪发誓。

海伦脸红了，想笑，承认这是非常愚蠢的。好吧，这被认为是愚蠢的，而且她一开始并没有觉得这有什么值得羞耻的事情。但她感到遗憾的是，当卡特琳夫人模仿她时，博克莱尔就在旁边。最遗憾的是他认为她很愚蠢。但后来他做到了吗？他的表情透露出温柔。他心地很温柔。真正有男子气概的男人总是如此；她对塞西莉亚女士如此说道。卡特琳女士听到了这个观察结果，笑了——她那令人厌恶的微笑——所暗示的意义是无法用言语来表达的。然而，海伦不太清楚这句话的意思。

几天后，卡特琳夫人拿起一本书，上面写着博克勒克亲笔写的海伦的名字。 “Gage d'amitié？” 夫人说道；她在房间里走来走去，哼着一首古老的法国歌曲。时不时地打断自己，问姐姐是否还记得这些话。 “这 避免如果我没记错的话，是这样的——

Sous le nom d'amitié——sous le nom d'amitié，
La moitié du monde trompe l'autre moitié,
Sous le nom，sous le nom，sous le nom d'amitié。

它结束于

Sous le nom d'amitié，达蒙，我爱你，
Sous le nom，sous le nom d'amitié。

“斯坦利小姐，你知道那首歌吗？”恶毒的女士总结道。不——斯坦利小姐以前从未听说过。但凯特琳夫人的歌声和表情中明显的强调，让海伦清楚地知道，她的意思是用这些话来嘲讽她和博克勒克，——但她的夫人怀疑他们中的哪一个在欺骗，或者被欺骗了——“友谊之源，”她不知道。她脑子里一片混乱。然而，经过片刻冷静的思考后，她确信这不可能是博克勒克的责任——而一定是她自己，她现在非常希望每个人，尤其是卡特琳娜女士，都应该知道博克勒克先生订婚了。 ——快结婚了；如果知道这一点，所有此类指责就会结束。

当她第一次与塞西莉亚谈论这个话题时，她请求知道博克勒克先生多久才会宣布订婚。塞西莉亚女士轻轻地回答道，她不知道——当海伦追问她所问的问题时——

“你为什么这么着急，海伦？”

海伦诚实地告诉了她，塞西莉亚夫人只是嘲笑她在意卡特琳夫人的话：“海伦，当你了解你自己的时候，它是怎样的，这能说明别人会犯什么错误吗？”

但海伦变得越来越不安，因为她不清楚自己是否知道情况如何，至少对她自己来说是这样。她的良心开始动摇，她不知道自己的惊慌是有原因的还是无缘无故的。她开始比较她读到的感受、她在别人身上看到的感受以及对她自己来说新的感受，在这个迷宫和迷雾中，没有什么是明显的——很多都被放大了——所有这些都令人震惊。

有一天，博克勒克骑在马背上，可以看到窗外的景色，他骑着一匹精神抖擞的马，他的驾驭能力令人钦佩。但是，邻近的保护区突然响起一声枪响，这匹马吓了一跳——哦！海伦没有看到什么，她非常害怕：为什么她如此害怕？她为自己辩解说，对任何人类来说，感到害怕是很自然的。但是，另一方面，汤姆·伊斯德尔是一个人类，上周她亲眼目睹他从马背上摔下来，所以并没有感到太多担忧。但那时他就不是朋友了；他是个朋友。他掉进了一条松软的沟里：里面有一些可笑的东西，使人们无法关心它。她的诡计如此巧妙，相处得很好。而且，她是那么天真无知，很容易被欺骗。她继续说道，她告诉自己，她爱博克莱克就像爱兄弟一样——就像她爱将军一样。但一对比，她就忍不住察觉到了差异。她的心从来没有被将军的外表所束缚，让他突然出现，就像有一天博克勒克意外地从老森林回来一样。她的整个存在似乎因他的接近、他的存在或他的缺席而改变。这是为什么？难道其中有什么问题吗？她没有人可以咨询她的判断——没有人可以冒险向她描述自己的感受，或者公开她的怀疑和顾忌。塞西莉亚女士只会笑。尽管她知道自己的感情，但她不太相信自己的判断力和真诚。而且，在塞西莉亚说过她很安全之后；毕竟，她告诉了她博克勒克订婚的消息，塞西莉亚一定会感到多么惊讶和震惊！

于是，海伦决定严格控制自己，压抑一切情感，对自己的思想严格到极致。正是在这个决定的基础上，她改变了对博克勒克的态度，但不知改变了多少。她确信他除了友谊什么也没有。如果她在他的陪伴下感到太多快乐，那是她的错。正如她明智地论证的那样，同样的事情的正确或错误取决于他们说、做、看或感觉的意图。她严厉地惩罚自己，逃避他令人愉快的交往，为了确保自己不会试图吸引他，她用尽全力排斥他——她认为她永远无法让自己变得冷漠、僵硬、令人讨厌，以满足她的需要。良心。

然后，她对博克勒克惊讶的表情感到害怕——担心他会要求解释——越来越避开他。然后，另一方面，她担心他可能会猜测和解释 错， 更确切地说 右，这个变化；她又变回来了，徒劳地试图保持公正的媒介——她失去了衡量的能力——总之她很不高兴，博克勒克也是如此。他觉得她难以理解，认为她反复无常。他自己的心被爱所搅动，以至于他无法清楚地看到或判断，否则他可能会看到真相；有时，尽管他不自负，但他确实希望这一切都是爱情。但为什么那么坚决地阻止他呢？他已经足够表明自己的意图了，她不能怀疑他的诚意。在冒险走得更远之前，他会看得更远。他认为，在他有足够的理由相信自己不应该被拒绝之前就求婚的人是个傻瓜。

贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵和他的姐妹们现在马上就到了老森林，博克勒克每天一大早就去那里，为家人的到来做好准备，他很少在晚餐时间才回来。每天晚上，卡斯尔福特夫人都想办法占有他。这似乎确实违背了他的意愿，就像一个有教养的男人和一个有教养的美女之间的事情一样。但听从她的命令，即使不是一种道德，至少也是一种礼貌上的必要。她承认，她被外国人的关注宠坏了，不是法国人的关注，因为现在巴黎已经不复存在了，而是意大利人的举止，她非常喜欢这种举止。她不知道如何才能离开意大利生活，她必须说服卡斯尔福特勋爵，气候对她的健康是必要的。与此同时，她采用了她所认为的外国礼仪，并采取了一些夸张的做法，这种夸张是那些缺乏理智却热衷于以某种方式赶时髦的人所常见的。那些最了解她的人（除了她的妹妹卡特琳娜，她摇了摇头）都相信卡斯尔福特夫人确实没有什么坏处，“只有虚荣和愚蠢”。愚蠢的行为常常比傻瓜走得更远，或者智者常常预见到，我们无需在此停下来记录。目前，克拉伦登公园的所有人，甚至是那些最容易发生丑闻的人，顺便说一句，他们可能总是以“我讨厌所有丑闻”为序言，都同意“没有人” 到目前为止 到目前为止，”——“到目前为止。”但所有对这个世界有过任何经验的老年人，所有对这些事情有直觉预知的年轻人，都不得不担心事情不会像现在这样长久下去。令人悲哀的是，如此年轻的男人，如此英俊的男人，如此热爱美丽、优雅、音乐和热情的脾气，一定会面临被比他更远的人所吸引的危险。意识到了，在他知道自己在做什么之前。

将军听到并看到了所发生的一切，似乎并没有在意，只有一次他问塞西莉亚她认为她的表兄弟会呆多久。她不知道，但她说“她看到他希望他们成为他们不想要的样子——表兄弟姐妹一旦被拆散——并且非常同意他的观点。”他笑了，因为一个男人总是很高兴发现他的妻子同意他不喜欢她的表兄弟姐妹。

一天晚上——一个月光明媚的夜晚——卡斯尔福特夫人与博克勒克一起站在温室门口，在谈论了她对月亮的热情、对星星的看法以及对同一个星球下出生的志趣相投的灵魂的无数胡言乱语之后，她提议对他来说是月光下的散步。

将军当时正与海伦下棋，棋势已尽，但此时他走错一步，被将死，急忙起身，将众人一起扔到棋盘上，忘记了后悔。他可耻的失败，或者称赞海伦的胜利。卡斯尔福特夫人刚刚发现关于星星的致命胡说八道对博克勒克来说不太合适，下一瞬间就对天文学产生了突然的热情。她一定要看看那些迷人的土星环，她听过很多次了，前几天晚上将军给斯坦利小姐看的。她必须请求他借用他的望远镜；她露出最甜美的笑容来麻烦将军拿杯子。卡斯尔福特勋爵紧随其后，极力反对她晚上外出。当他让她白天散步时，她一直抱怨得了重感冒，如果她在夜间出去散步，只会让病情变得更糟。如果她想看到土星和土星环，他确信将军会在窗户上为她安装一架望远镜。

但那不行，她必须在月光下散步；她推开温室的门，向博克勒克先生招手，海伦没有留下来看看事情的结局。她觉得自己不应该再想这个问题，于是就尽快走开了。天色已晚，她上床睡觉，希望早点起床，继续画一幅她要为科林伍德太太完成的画——河边的景色，她那天所想象的那景色是如此美丽。首先去了老森林。第二天一早——那是一个令人愉快的早晨——她起身出门，到达了她的素描拍摄地点。她惊讶地发现她在大厅里徒劳地寻找的小营凳，在原来的地方，已经为她准备好了，上面有一支剪得漂亮的铅笔。

这一定是博克勒克干的。但总的来说，他并不是一个早起的人。然而，她得出的结论是，他这么早就去了老森林，去见他的朋友贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵，他本来要和他的姐妹们在前一天到达。她看到一条船顺流而下，她确信他已经走了。但正当她刚开始画画时，她听到博克勒克的狗纳尔逊欢快的吠叫声，它向她跳来，下一刻，它的主人出现了，从树林里的小路上走来。他迈着快步来到她身边，快要靠近她的时候，才放慢了脚步。

“早上好！”海伦说；她试图平静地说话，但她的心跳——看到他，她不禁感到惊讶——但这只是惊讶。

“我以为你去老森林了？”她说。

“还没有，”他说。

他的声音听起来与平常不同，她从他身上看到了一些压抑的激动。她努力让自己的举止不显得尴尬——她感谢他送来了那支剪得很漂亮的铅笔，还有一个位置恰到好处的座位。他靠近了一两步，弯下腰，仔细地看着她的画，但他似乎没有看到或不知道自己在看什么。

这时，长时间不被人注意的纳尔逊，在他的主人没有看到的情况下，把一只爪子放在了斯坦利小姐的手臂上，受到海伦温柔的责备的鼓励，他大胆的爪子下一刻就放在了她的图画书的顶部。瞬间，下一个出现在图画上——爪子上沾满了露水。——“纳尔逊！”他的主人用愤怒的语气喊道。

“哦，不要责骂他，”海伦喊道，“不要惩罚他；这幅画并没有被损坏——只是湿了，干了之后它也会像以前一样。”

博克勒克一边拍着纳尔逊忏悔的头，一边吐出了天使般的脾气。

“由于这幅画必须晾干，”博克勒克说，“也许斯坦利小姐会帮我一个忙，让我步行到着陆点，船在那里接我——载我——如果——如果我必须这样做的话。”去老森林吧！”他叹了口气。

她挽着他伸出的手臂，继续往前走——惊讶——困惑；——想知道他那叹息和那眼神是什么意思——以及那强烈的强调 必须。 “如果我 必须 去老森林吧。”这不是一种乐趣吗？——这不是他自己的选择吗？——他是什么意思？——可能出了什么问题？

一个模糊的、令人不安的想法在她脑海中升起，但她把它抛在脑后，他们继续走了几分钟，两人都保持沉默。他们走进了树林，感到这里的沉默很尴尬，她担心他会看出她的尴尬，担心他会怀疑她的怀疑，所以她努力说话——无论如何都要说点什么。

“这是一个迷人的早晨！”

一阵心不在焉的停顿后，他回答道：

“迷人！——非常！”

然后他突然停了下来，用一种她不敢理解的表情盯着海伦。它几乎不能接受任何解释，除了一个——然而这是不可能的——应该不可能——来自一个处于博克勒克情况下的男人——订婚了——几乎是一个已婚男人，正如她被告知要考虑的那样。她此刻不知道该怎么想——她仍然认为自己一定是误会了他，她应该为这样的错误感到非常羞愧，现在更强烈地感到害怕他会看到并误解或解释得太正确她的情感；她走得更快了，呼吸变得急促，脸色变得更红。他看到了她的焦躁——他心中升起了一丝美好的希望。显然她并不是无动于衷——他看着她，但又不敢看太久——生怕自己看错了。但即使他看起来，尴尬似乎也改变了性质，现在更像是不高兴——毫无疑问，她显得不高兴。她也是如此；因为她现在想，他要么是在玩弄她，要么，如果是认真的话，一定是在做最不光彩的事；——她对他的好感一定会被永远毁掉，如果像现在这样，他想给别人留下一个印象的话。她的心——但她仍然试图不去思考，不去看它。她很抱歉，她的脑子里冒出这样的想法是非常错误的——但她的不安仍在加剧。

当她转身离开他的时候，这些想法在她的脑海中闪过，时而愤怒，时而羞愧，最后，她强迫自己冷静下来，告诉自己在谴责他之前她应该看得更远，至少要确定——谴责得如此仁慈，一位如此值得尊敬的朋友，尽管过错可能全在她自己身上；现在，她用一种柔和的语气，仿佛在请求原谅她给他带来的痛苦，以及她对他的不公正，说了一些话，这些话本身微不足道，但却是对博克勒克的耳朵和灵魂来说充满善意的声音。

“我们走得不是很快吗？”她气喘吁吁地说。他顿时放慢了脚步，一脸欣喜，而她则急忙补充道：“不过，别耽误你了。”有船。你一定很着急——不耐烦！”

“着急！不耐烦！离开你，海伦！”她脸红得比他以前见过的她脸红得更深。博克勒克总体上知道——

“哪个脸红是愤怒的，哪个脸红是爱的！”

——但现在他太感动了，乍一看无法决定：第二眼，毫无疑问；那是愤怒——不是爱。她的手臂从他的手臂上抽了出来。他担心自己走得太远了。他叫她海伦！他半谦卑半骄傲地请求原谅。 “请原谅；斯坦利小姐，我应该这么说。我看我冒犯了。我担心自己太自以为是了，但达文南特夫人教会我要相信斯坦利小姐的真诚，她所表现出的自信和友谊让我深受鼓舞。”

“友谊！哦是的！ “博克勒克先生，”海伦急切地抓住并重复“友谊”这个词，语气急促。 “是的，我一直把你当朋友。我相信我会永远发现你是一个真诚的好朋友。”

“朋友！”他用失望的语气重复了一遍——他所有的希望都破灭了。她又挽住了他的手臂，但他还是不高兴。她并不是他想象中的那种真正感性的人——她没有能力去爱。他的心和想象力如此动摇，因此他每时每刻都在与她和自己争吵。他无法理解她，也无法自己决定下一步应该做什么或说什么；船已经靠近陆地了，他们默默地继续前行，驶向陆地。他叹了口气。

这是一种无法不被听到和注意到的叹息。它本不应该引起人们的注意，但事实却确实如此。她能想到什么？她不敢相信博克勒克竟然有奸诈之心。这一次，她决心不再把任何事情视为理所当然，不再像丘吉尔先生那样愚蠢。

“我看到的那艘船不是你的吗，划得很近？”

“是的，我相信——当然。是的，”他说。

但现在博克勒克的思想突然停止了动摇。绝望之下，他拦住了她，因为她会沿着那条路转向停泊船的着陆点。他站在小路对面。 “斯坦利小姐，一言一语，一看就决定了。你必须为我决定是永远留下——还是离开！”

“我！——先生。”博克勒克！——”

惊讶的表情——不仅仅是惊讶，几乎是愤怒——让他完全沉默了，他沮丧地站着。她继续前行，他也不再拦着她。一瞬间，他绝望地屈服了。 “那我就别想了。我必须走——必须走吗，斯坦利小姐？海伦，你不听我说吗？告诉我;让我以朋友的身份向你敞开心扉。”

她在他们经过的那棵阴凉的树下停了下来，靠在树上，重复道：“作为朋友——但是，不，不，博克勒克先生——不；我不是你应该咨询的朋友——咨询将军，你的监护人。”

“我跟他商量过，他也同意。”

“你有！那就好，无论如何，那就好。”她喊道。 “如果他同意，那就一切都好。”

她的脸上浮现出一丝满足。他看起来好像在考虑她到底是什么意思。他再次满怀希望，并再次下定决心冒险说出果断的话。 “如果你知道一切就好了！”他把她的手臂贴得更紧了——“我可以告诉你一切吗——？”

海伦果断地收回了手臂。 “我什么都知道，”她说。 “博克勒克先生，我应该知道的一切。”

“你都知道了！”他喊道，对她的举止感到惊讶。

“你知道我现在的处境吗？”

他提到了他与卡斯尔福特夫人的立场。她以为他指的是布兰奇夫人，于是她回答道：“是的，我什么都知道！”她的目光转向了船。

“我理解你，”他说。 “你觉得我应该走吗？”

“当然，”她说。她从来没有怀疑过塞西莉亚女士告诉她的话的真实性，一开始她因为害怕背叛她认为不应该感受到的东西而感到非常尴尬，现在她对她所发生的事情感到非常震惊。她认为他的行为不光彩，几乎用严厉的语气重复道：“当然，博克勒克先生，你应该走。”

“既然你订婚了，”——“你知道你订婚了，”她正想补充一句，但塞西莉亚夫人禁止她告诉他她泄露了他的秘密，这让她停了下来。

他看了她一会儿，然后突然非常激动地说道： “请问，斯坦利小姐，您是否已经订婚了？”

“博克勒克先生，你有权利问我这个问题吗？”

“我没有权利——没有权利，我承认——我得到了答复。”

他转身离开她，沿着岸向船跑去，但立刻又回来了，大声喊道：“如果你对我说，就走吧！我已经永远消失了！”

“去！”海伦语气坚定。 “你对我来说永远只能是朋友！哦，绝对不能少！——走吧！”

“我走了，”他说，“你再也见不到我了。”

他走了，几秒钟后，她听到了他桨的溅水声。他走了！哦！她多么希望他们早点分开——早几分钟，甚至在他这样看之前——说得这么清楚！

“哦！我们已经分手了，而我本可以仍然完全尊重他；但现在-！”

当海伦试图走路时，她浑身发抖，无法动弹，她靠在树下，几乎不假思索地一动不动。然后她开始回忆这一切之前发生的事情，一能走路，她就回去拿她的图画书，扔掉博克勒克剪下的铅笔，然后以最快的速度回家。回到自己的房间，没有见到任何人；她一到那里就锁上门，倒在床上。这时她头痛得厉害，她想在吃早餐的时候设法摆脱它——这是她的第一个目标；但她的思绪如此混乱，无法正确地思考任何事情。她努力让自己平静下来，重新思考整件事；但她不能。过去的事情实在是太奇怪了！突然间——她的看法彻底改变了——她彻底失去了信心！她试图把所有的想法和感觉都抛到脑后，如果可以的话，只是呆呆地躺着，这样她就可以摆脱头脑中的痛苦。她不知道是晚了还是早了，正要起床看看表，就听到了第一声铃声，距离早餐还有半个小时，而这个时候，塞西莉亚通常会打开他们房间之间的门。 。她害怕这个声音，但当她预料到会出现几分钟时，她甚至对她害怕的声音也变得不耐烦了；她想结束这一切，她用胳膊肘撑起身子，焦急地听着：最后，门大开，塞西莉亚一如既往地明亮而快乐地进来了，但当她第一眼看到海伦时躺在床上，她脸色苍白、痛苦不堪，突然停了下来。

“我最亲爱的海伦！到底是怎么回事？

“先生。博克勒克——”

“出色地！他呢？塞西莉亚喊道，她微笑着。

“哦，塞西莉亚！不要笑;你无法想象-”

“哦是的！但我可以，”塞西莉亚喊道。 “我明白是怎么回事了；我全都明白；当你看到这一刻的痛苦和惊讶时，我会用一句话来为你解决一切问题。他不会结婚——也不会订婚。”

海伦开始了。 “没订婚！”

“不比你更重要，亲爱的！哦！我很高兴看到你的颜色再次出现！”

“谢天谢地！”海伦喊道，“那么他就不是——”

“一个恶棍！——一点也不。他就是一切都对；这一切都是迷人的，亲爱的。所以感谢上苍，祝你快乐。”

“但我无法理解，”海伦说着，向后靠了靠。 “我实在无法理解这是怎么回事，塞西莉亚。”塞西莉亚急忙给她倒了一杯水，很抱歉，又很高兴，请求原谅，一切都在一口气之中：但海伦还不知道她必须原谅什么，直到她向她解释了这一点。直接的说法是，塞西莉亚告诉她的不仅是不真实的事情，而且是她在讲述时知道的事情是错误的。

“到底是为了什么目的啊！我亲爱的塞西莉亚！起初这一切都是为了让我免于一点愚蠢的尴尬，但你最终却让我们变得痛苦不堪。”

“悲惨的！我亲爱的海伦；最惨的也只有半个小时。废话！再次躺下，让你可怜的头休息一下。我现在就去格兰维尔。他在哪里？”

“走了！一去不复返！这是他的最后一句话。”

“不可能的！荒诞！只有一个人在激情中所说的话。但他去哪儿了？仅限老森林！永远消失了——一直消失到晚餐时间！也许此刻他会像一个真正的情人一样匆忙地回来，请求你原谅你对他的虐待。现在，微笑；不要摇摇头，表现得那么可怜；但是，请一字不差地告诉我，你们之间发生的一切，然后我就会知道最好做什么。”

海伦无法逐字回答，因为她太困惑了，但她尽了自己的记忆。塞西莉亚仍然认为没有造成太大的伤害。她看上去只是因为担心布兰奇夫人可能发生的事情而显得有点严肃，现在是真正的、真正的担心，正如她所相信的那样，布兰奇女士就在老森林里。 “人类是如此愚蠢；男人恋爱了，就这么鲁莽。博克勒克因自己所爱的女人如此拒绝而感到愤怒和绝望，他可能会去拜倒在另一个他根本不关心的人的脚下，以一种奇怪的报复方式。但我知道如何解决这一切，我现在就会这么做。”

但海伦却抓住了她的手，牢牢地扣着，绝对反对她在没有准确无误地告诉她要做什么的情况下做任何事情。

塞西莉亚女士向她保证，她只是向将军询问布兰奇女士是否和她的妹妹一起在老森林。 “听我说，亲爱的海伦；我接下来要说的话不会造成任何伤害。如果布兰奇夫人在那里，那么最好的办法就是，我今天早上立即去拜访两位女士来到这个国家，我会把格兰维尔带回来。一句话就能把他拉回来。我只会告诉他有一个小错误，或者如果你认为最好，我会告诉他全部真相。让我走吧——只是让我在早餐铃声响起之前去咨询将军，因为之后我就没有时间了。”

海伦让她走，因为正如博克勒克告诉她的那样，他已经向将军敞开心扉，她认为最好让他听听所发生的一切。

将军一看到塞西莉亚大人进来，就微笑道：“嗯！我亲爱的塞西莉亚，你今天早上见到了海伦，她也见到了博克勒克——结果是什么？他是留下，还是走？”

“他已经去了！”塞西莉亚说。将军看上去既惊讶又抱歉。 “他没有向她求婚，”塞西莉亚继续说道，“他没有表态——他只是开始向她表达对他的看法，而她——她故意误解——冒犯了他，然后他就走了，但只是到了老家。”森林，我们可以直接让他回来。”

“这不太可能，”将军说，“因为我知道博克勒克已经决定，如果他去了，他将在一段时间内不会回来。由你的朋友海伦来决定。如果她给了他任何希望，也就是说，允许他以她公开的仰慕者的身份出现，他就可以以适当、幸福和荣誉的方式留在这里；如果不是，我亲爱的塞西莉亚，你一定明白他离开是对的。”

“有一段时间没去了！”塞西莉亚重复道：“你的意思是只要卡斯尔福特夫人在这里就行。”

“是的，”将军说。

“我真心希望她能离开，我确信这一点，”塞西莉亚说。 “但与此同时，请告诉我，我亲爱的克拉伦登，你知道贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵的姐妹们是否在老森林吗？”

将军并不认为布兰奇夫人已经到了。他不确定，但他知道圣西蒙伯爵夫人昨天已经到了。

“那么，”塞西莉亚说，“去见伯爵夫人只是出于礼貌。我今天早上就去。”

克拉伦登将军立即斩钉截铁地回答说，她绝对不能想到这样的事情——这是不可能完成的。 “圣西蒙夫人是一个名声可疑的女人，塞西莉亚·克拉伦登夫人不应该与之结识。”

“不，不是结识——我很清楚这一点，”她急切地辩解说她无意做任何事； “但是，你知道，仅仅一上午的拜访就没有结果。也许我们都不在家，也永远不会见面；事实上，如果贝尔特拉弗斯一家回国后不去拜访他们，那就太引人注目了。以前福列斯特夫妇和你父亲之间的默契如此之好；热情好客确实需要它。总而言之，这一趟确实是必须去的，没办法，所以我就吩咐马车了。”

“绝对不能这么做！”将军说； “这是一个权利问题，而不是权宜之计问题。”

“是的，但是确实没有什么问题；我相信所有关于她的言论都是丑闻。没有人能免受报道的侵害——公共报纸是如此的可耻！当一个女人和她的丈夫住在一起时，认为一切都好只是仁慈的。这就是规则。此外，我们不应该扔第一块石头。”然后塞西莉亚夫人恳求，这位女士，那位女士，整个县的人都会毫无顾忌地拜访圣西蒙夫人。

“这位女士和那位女士可以随心所欲，或者按照她们的丈夫认为合适或不合适的方式行事，这对塞西莉亚·克拉伦登女士来说不是规则；当我做出了自己的决定时，对于整个国家，或者整个世界来说，那对我来说又算什么呢？”

事实是，此时德圣西蒙夫人即将与她的丈夫分开。刚刚有了一个可怕的发现。贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵把他的妹妹带到了老森林，以防止她在伦敦蒙羞。他打算留她去乡下，而他则应立即跟随她丈夫前往巴黎，商定分居或离婚的条款。

“毫无疑问，博克勒克会和他一起去巴黎，”将军说。

“去巴黎！他什么时候出发？”

“今天——直接，如果海伦坚决拒绝了他；但你说他没有表态。请立即告诉我一切。”

如果她这么做了，一切都可能会好起来。但她很害怕。她的丈夫同样准确地说 一些事情 作为她的母亲；他肯定会对她对海伦的欺骗感到不满。她现在不能告诉他这些，因为她刚刚在这次拜访中把他骗到了极点。她会找到更好的时光；她非常害怕他微笑的瞬间变化——不赞成的表情；她是那么的懦弱；简而言之，目前的不愉快的痛苦——甚至是她自己的愚蠢行为所带来的后果，她都无法忍受，为了避免这种痛苦，她总是寻求一些新的逃避；现在，当海伦——她亲爱的海伦的幸福受到威胁时，她犹豫不决——她支支吾吾——她无论如何都不会伤害她；但她仍然认为自己可以不说出全部情况——她什么也不说 但是 真相。因此，经过片刻的犹豫，当所有这些想法在她的脑海中闪过时，当将军重复了他的问题，并恳求立即知道她的小脑袋里在想什么时；当她丈夫深情地看着她时，她微笑着回应他脸上的微笑，她回答说：“我在想可怜的海伦。她犯了一个可悲的错误——此刻头疼得厉害——总之，她冒犯了博克勒克的忍耐力——超过了他的忍耐力——在她发现自己的错误之前，他就勃然大怒地走了。简而言之，我们必须让他回来；你可以走吗，我亲爱的——或者直接写信吗？

“首先让我明白，”将军说道。 “斯坦利小姐犯了一个错误——什么错误？”

“她以为博克勒克已经和布兰奇夫人订婚了。”

“她怎么会这么想？她有什么理由？

“有人这么告诉她的。”

“某个人！——我想是那个永恒的丑闻贩子卡特琳女士。”

“不——不是卡特琳娜女士，”塞西莉亚说。 “但我不能随意告诉你是谁。”

“不管;但斯坦利小姐不是傻瓜；她无法相信某人或任何人，这违背了常识。”

“不，但博克勒克并没有完全求婚——你知道，她因在丘吉尔先生提出求婚之前就拒绝了而受到指责——简而言之——在爱情中，人们并不总是知道自己在做什么。”

“我一个字也听不懂，”将军说。 “我也不确定你也一样，我亲爱的塞西莉亚。”

“是的，我确实如此，但是——”

“我亲爱的塞西莉亚，我向你保证，让人们按照自己的方式解决爱情问题总是最好的。”

“是的，当然——我不会干涉至少——只是为了让格兰维尔再次回来——然后让他们按照自己的方式解决。你不能去老森林打电话吗？

“没有。”

“你就不能不写吗？”

“不——除非我知道全部情况。我不会在黑暗中做任何事。一定要告诉你的忏悔神父、你的律师、你的医生、你的朋友，你的整个案件，否则如果他们为你行事，他们就是傻瓜或流氓；回去向我向海伦·斯坦利重复一遍。”

“但是，亲爱的，她会认为这太不友善了。”

“让她告诉我如何为她服务，我就会这么做。”

“只给博克莱克写一句话——说，‘博克莱克回来，这是一个错误。’”她会把一支笔放在他手里，然后把纸递给他。

“让我知道全部情况，然后，直到那时，我才能判断我是否应该为她做正确的事。”即使塞西莉亚女士现在犹豫不决、搪塞不说，但要说出全部情况却变得越来越困难。 “让我见见海伦——让我亲自跟她谈谈，了解一下这个奇怪的、荒谬的谜团到底是什么。”他越来越不耐烦了。 “我不能见斯坦利小姐吗？”

“为什么不，亲爱的，不只是现在，她头疼得厉害！她躺着。早餐钟声响起——早餐后，如果您愿意的话。但我很清楚她不愿意亲自和你谈论这个话题。”

“那就下来吃早餐吧，亲爱的，让她按照自己的方式解决——这才是最好的计划。在爱情问题上的干涉总是会带来祸害。来吃早餐吧，亲爱的——我不能浪费时间——我必须去军事法庭了。”

他看了看手表，塞西莉亚和他一起下了半楼，然后跑回来让海伦保持安静，保证一切都会解决——一切都会好起来的，而且她会送她一些早餐——她不能想到下来；早餐时间到了一半，塞西莉亚就开始哀叹——可怜的海伦多么容易头痛。通过这次谈话以及所有其他谈话，她决定了要为她做什么。作为最后的资源，她会说出全部真相——不是对她的丈夫，她太爱他了，无法面对他一刻的不满——而是对博克勒克；写作比说话容易得多——她可以向博克勒克解释这一切，而且不会感到脸红，而且还可以开玩笑地转述。他会非常高兴，他会非常高兴地原谅她，并做她要求的任何事情。她编造并写了一封非常漂亮的信，信中她将所有的过错全部归咎于自己——这对海伦来说是完全公正的；说她在她不知情的情况下写信，完全取决于他的判断力，所以他必须自己回来，并遵守她的建议。然而，这封信并没有像她预期的那样尽快寄出。在将军去军事法庭之前，她不能派仆人带着它。现在，如果塞西莉亚直接去上班，她的丈夫就可以在这段时间里把一切都安排好；但这对塞西莉亚来说是不可能的。她只能在焦急的痛苦中等待，直到将军和他的军官们都离开了，然后她派了一个马夫带着她的信去老森林，并希望他尽快回来，而她则去了海伦的家。房间，尽可能地消磨焦虑悬念的时间；很快她就成功地让自己恢复了良好的精神状态。 “现在，我亲爱的海伦，如果没有犯下那个不幸的错误，如果你没有想到格兰维尔已经结婚了，如果他真的向你求婚，你会说什么？简而言之，你会说什么？你已经接受他了吗？”

“哦！塞西莉亚，我真希望他能明白这一切是怎么回事；我希望他会相信我一如既往地尊重他：至于爱——”

海伦停顿了一下，塞西莉亚女士继续说道：“至于爱情，在它到来之前，没有人知道它的存在——而它就在这里，我相信！”她继续看着窗外。——不！不是博克勒克先生，而是她派来的信的那个人，正在向房子疾驰而去。她很失望没有见到博克勒克本人，只能得出结论，因为他没有带马，所以他正乘船返回。她的信的回信被带了进来，一看方向，她的脸色就变了。 “不是格兰维尔的手！——会发生什么？”她撕开纸条，“他走了！——和贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵一起走了——出发了！——去了巴黎！”海伦一言不发，塞西莉亚绝望地重复道：“走了！——走了！——彻底走了！没有什么可以做的了。哦，但愿我什么也没做！一切都失败了！天知道现在会发生什么！哦！如果我能不去管它就好了！我永远、永远不能原谅自己！我亲爱的海伦，生我的气吧——责备我：祈祷——祈祷责备我，因为我应得的！”但海伦不能责怪一个如此自责的人——无论她多么愚蠢和错误，她所做的一切都是出于最善良的动机。在悔罪的痛苦中，她现在把她和将军之间发生的一切都告诉了海伦。为了避免向他承认自己的第一次欺骗而感到羞耻，她在这些愚蠢的逃避、诡计和神秘中又迈出了一步。她以为自己能做到，却在他不知情的情况下写下了这封信。现在，为了完成对她的惩罚，她所做的每件事不仅都失败了，而且还发生了她永远无法预见的后果。 . 塞蒙，克拉伦登绝对不会听到我甚至拜访他！看看她给我写了什么。她只是趁这个机会在一个熟人面前开始写信：但我永远不会回复她。她是这样说的：——

圣西蒙伯爵夫人对塞西莉亚·克拉伦登夫人的仆人没有及时赶到，将夫人的信交到博克勒克先生手中深感遗憾。今天早些时候，B 先生与贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵一起离开老森林前往巴黎。圣西蒙伯爵夫人知道塞西莉亚·克拉伦登夫人急于尽快转发她的信，并计算出，如果由她夫人的仆人退回，那么今天从克拉伦登公园寄来的邮件一定为时已晚，她立即​​将其与她自己的信一起转发给巴黎，在博克勒克先生抵达巴黎后，巴黎不可能不直接与他会面。

“哦！”塞西莉亚夫人喊道：“如果将军知道了这件事，他会多么生气啊！”她边说边把纸条撕成最小的碎片，然后扔掉了。接下来她恳求海伦永远不要说这件事。告诉将军什么只会让他烦恼，什么是无能为力的，这是没有用的。这可能不会导致任何结果，因为她永远不应该回复这张纸条，也不应该与圣西蒙夫人进行任何进一步的交流。

尽管如此，海伦认为还是把这件事告诉将军要好得多，她想知道塞西莉亚怎么会想到不这样做，就在她如此强烈地责备自己，并对这些愚蠢的秘密感到后悔时；这又向前迈进了一步。 “确实，塞西莉亚，”海伦说，“我希望——为了我个人的利益，我希望你不要隐瞒任何事情。很难让将军怀疑我极端愚蠢和荒谬，或者在这项业务中进行某种双重交易，在这项业务中，我已尽最大努力做正确的事并直截了当。”可怜的海伦，神经性头痛越来越严重，她在苦苦哀求时流下了眼泪。塞西莉亚夫人答应一切都会按照她的意愿进行。塞西莉亚夫人的感情转瞬即逝，她的所有自责、悔罪和恐惧都消失了，她对整个事件有着光明的看法，最后她确信博克勒克一收到她的信就会回来。几天之内他就会得到它，一切都会有一个美好的结局，就好像她不是个傻瓜一样。

博克勒克的第一个消息是在他到达巴黎后立即写给将军的一封信中得到的。但很明显，这肯定是在塞西莉亚夫人的信（由圣西蒙夫人转发）到达他之前写的。显然，从他写“对他所有希望的致命一击”的方式来看，事情还没有得到解释，现在他正与贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵一起前往那不勒斯，跟随德·圣·西门先生，定居下来。姐姐离婚的事。塞西莉亚夫人只能希望她的信能跟着他到那里，附在圣西蒙夫人给她哥哥的电报中。现在，在收到那不勒斯的消息之前，他们无法得知更多信息。

与此同时，海伦发现，虽然将军仍然像往常一样对她殷勤和友善，但他的态度比以前更加谨慎和矜持，少了一些自发的尊重和诚恳的信任。这并不是说他对她劝阻他的受监护人的讲话感到不满，尽管他很喜欢博克勒克，而且他也会对这门亲事感到高兴。这是他唯一一次谈到这个主题时清楚地表达了这一点。他说，斯坦利小姐是最好的，也是唯一能判断什么能让她幸福的人。但他无法理解她所犯错误的本质。不管塞西莉亚的解释是什么，都没有把事情说清楚。要么有什么反复无常，要么有什么神秘，他决定不去探究，因为他自己的原则是让人们按照自己的方式解决他们的爱情问题。海伦的情绪低落了：她天生敏感，她的幸福更多地取决于内心的感受，而不是任何外部环境。克拉伦登公园的年轻人中现在不断地热闹起来，这使她对烈酒的渴望更加令她自己不舒服，更加明显，也更容易被其他人观察到。卡特琳女士无情地召集了她。夫人并不怀疑事实真相，她认为斯坦利小姐已经后悔在被问到之前对丘吉尔先生说“不”而不是“是”。自从他离开后，她显然就一直戴着柳树了。

塞西莉亚夫人对这种恶意的嘲笑感到非常恼火：意识到她是海伦所有这些烦恼的根源，并且对她造成了更严重的伤害，她的热情和温柔现在增加了，并表现在每个人身上。不由自主地发生了一些小事，这种方式不断激怒了她表弟卡特琳的嫉妒。海伦已经习惯了只和她所爱的人住在一起，她对凯特琳夫人所进行的那种战争毫无准备。海伦并不怨恨她无休止的冷笑、影射和辛辣的讽刺，但她能感觉到它们。箭矢瞄准不准且无力，射不远。他们所伤的不是他们的矛头，而是他们的毒液——无论接触到什么地方，都会产生内心的恶作剧。为了逃避一种错误的指责，她常常将自己暴露在另一种更严重的指责之下。一天晚上，当年轻人想要跳舞，而没有通常的音乐时，海伦带着不知疲倦的善意演奏了卡德里尔舞和华尔兹几个小时，当一些人表达了诚挚的谢意时，卡特琳娜夫人低声说道，“我们的音乐家因埃斯特里奇勋爵对她白手的钦佩而得到了丰厚的报酬。”勋爵大人没有跳舞，整个晚上都站在海伦身边，这让卡特琳女士很沮丧，她本来打算让他做自己的舞伴。第二天晚上，海伦没有表演，而是参加了舞会，而且还有一个没人能羡慕她的男孩舞伴。将军很快就看到了社会上的小插曲，注意到了这一切，现在他的眼睛跟着海伦穿过方格舞，他对站在旁边的一个人说，斯坦利小姐跳舞很迷人，符合他的口味，而且在这样的淑女般的举止他很高兴看到她又恢复了良好的精神状态。她脸色涨红，他发现她看上去气色非常好。 “是的，”卡特琳女士回答，“非常好；黑色非常适合这种肤色，毫无疑问，这就是斯坦利小姐穿黑色衣服的时间比叔叔通常穿的时间长得多的原因。诚然，哀悼的长短取决于时尚或感觉，正如一些人所说。就我而言，我讨厌长时间的哀悼——就像炫耀情感一样；无论我做什么，无论如何我都会始终如一。我永远不会穿黑衣跳舞。你知道，波普对这类事情很有把握。你还记得台词吗？”

“‘忍受痛苦的嘲笑
参加午夜舞会和公开表演。”

舞会结束后，卡斯尔福特夫人把斯坦利小姐拉到一边，善意地低声对她说，卡特琳娜的严厉程度是多么惊人。忠实地重复她姐姐所说的每一句话。 “如此残酷，谈论你的态度 嘲弄 可悲了！——但是，我可爱的小羊羔，别让我让你这么难过。”海伦从卡斯尔福特夫人虚假的爱抚中抽身而出，向她保证，卡特琳夫人所说的任何话都不会伤害到她，因为她对自己的真实感受知之甚少。此刻，她的精神起来反对不公正，并感到比达文南特夫人所希望的这种小恶意更优越。她决定继续哀悼最长的一段时间，因为事实上，她的叔叔曾是她的父母；但卡特琳夫人发表残酷言论后的第二天早上，塞西莉亚恳求海伦答应她，放弃黑色。 “就在我生日那天吧。”塞西莉亚夫人的生日将在接下来的一周庆祝。 “好吧，那一天我一定会的，”海伦说。 “但仅限那一天。”这不会让塞西莉亚满意。海伦看到卡特琳女士的观察给人留下了深刻的印象，并且害怕成为日常观察的对象，也许是争吵的对象，她屈服了。哀悼被抛在一边。那么她穿的每一件衣服都一定是新的。塞西莉亚女士和她的侍女费利西小姐坚持要自己处理这件事。海伦其实只想为她朋友的生日定制一件衣服；但事实上，她只是想为她定制一件衣服。但她从一件事又被引向另一件事。塞西莉亚女士的着装品味非常精致。她的第一条基本原则令人钦佩——“无论你买什么，都要是同类中最好的，最后总是最便宜的。”她的第二条格言是——“除了来自这样那样的人，或者来自这样那样的地方之外，永远不要拥有任何东西”，她列举了那些目前受到时尚认可的人。 “当然，这些会让你为事物的名称付出高昂的代价；但一定是这样。名字就够了。”塞西莉亚女士说道。 “你的帽子、软帽，无论是什么，都是来自时尚界的权威吗？那么它就是对的，你说得很对。你可以用名字的魔力放下所有的反对和反对者。您无需再考虑自己的着装；你没有麻烦；而那些在廉价商店里辛苦劳作、翻箱倒柜的可怜人——结果又如何呢？但完全疲惫和耻辱！昨天，现在，我亲爱的海伦，回想一下。晚餐后，当卡特琳夫人问伊斯德尔小小姐那顶漂亮的帽子是在哪里买的时，这个可怜的女孩脸色难看。 “她确实不知道；”她只知道它非常便宜。你看到后来没有人能忍受这顶帽子；因此，尽管它可能很便宜，但从所有意图和目的来看，这些钱都被彻底扔掉了，因为它没有达到它的目的。”

海伦笑着说，如果它的目的是为了好看，并且让佩戴者看起来好看，那么它就完全成功了。 “诡辩，我亲爱的海伦。目的不是为了好看，而是为了有一种尊贵的气质。你知道，服装，以及我们所说的时尚和品味，都只是意见、想法联想等问题。你什么时候才能像妈妈说的那样学会推理？别让我对你失望。”

就这样，半开玩笑半认真的、真与假、有道理与无意义巧妙地融合在一起的塞西莉亚夫人战胜了海伦更好的判断力，并获得了仓促的屈服。在经济中，就像在道德中一样，错误的原则比任何一个错误都危险得多。一个错误的金钱分配原则比任何糟糕的讨价还价都更糟糕，因为它会导致无数的糟糕的讨价还价。会议决定，海伦想要的一切都应该购买，不仅是从那些出售最好商品的人那里购买，而且还从伦敦某些具有时尚名气的非常昂贵的房子购买。塞西莉亚女士坚持的下一点是，海伦的衣服应该永远和她自己的一样。 “你知道，亲爱的海伦，当我们还是孩子的时候，曾经是这样；现在就这样吧。”

“但是却有这样的区别 现在”海伦说； “而我负担不起——”

“不同之处！哦！不要谈论分歧——让我们之间永远没有分歧。买不起！——废话，亲爱的——花销根本就不算什么。如今，你完全可以免费获得服装的材质——时尚——化妆就是全部，我们费利西和我，以及每个了解此事的人都可以告诉你。现在我们可以拯救你了——这是我的婚礼用具，一切都为你服务——已经剪好的图案——这是费利西，她的整个法国灵魂都在盥洗室里——还有你自己的小女仆，她有双手、头脑、心灵，全都献给你——所以就交给我们吧——交给我们吧，亲爱的——不用考虑你该穿什么——你会穿得更好。”费利西被召唤了。 “菲丽西，记住斯坦利小姐的衣服一定要和我的一样。一定是这样，亲爱的。这对我来说将是最大的快乐，”她用她最有说服力的爱抚方式补充道，“我亲爱的海伦，如果你爱我，那就这样吧。”

这是海伦无法抗拒的呼吁。她认为她不能拒绝，否则会惹恼塞西莉亚。而且，出于一种情感上的信念，她认为自己对塞西莉亚是“真正的善意”——这就是塞西莉亚所谓的“姐妹行为”，她屈服于她知道不适合她的情况的事情——屈服于与她的处境完全相反的事情。她更好的判断力。经常发生这样的情况：我们的朋友加倍保护一个明显的弱点，而另一个弱点却未被他们发现，我们自己也不知道。达维南特夫人曾警告过海伦，要提防对情人优柔寡断和卖弄风情的危险，但这种衣着奢侈的危险是她没有预见到的——而这种软弱的顺从将给她带来多少开支，海伦无法计算。她以为，至少在她进城之前，她不应该想要任何昂贵的东西——这是一个巨大的错误。以前在英国，就像除英国以外的其他国家一样，乡村和城镇的着装风格有显着差异。以前，在乡下，穿得太过分被认为是粗俗的行为。但现在，即使是有出身、有时尚品味的人也会因缺乏品味和理智而感到内疚。他们在乡村展示的昂贵服装几乎与在城里展示的一样多。

碰巧，今年夏天，在克拉伦登公园的一连串的陪伴中，有一位来自附近王室派对的自请而来的一位富有的女士，有人称其为“戈尔康达”，有人称其为“波布尔郡公爵夫人”。 ”她酷爱服饰，华丽的装饰和多样的装饰让所有竞争对手都黯然失色。在面临被抢劫的迫在眉睫的危险时，她带着数量惊人的珠宝来到这个国家，并随身携带，在一天中的不同时间佩戴两到三套不同的珠宝——在最荒谬的不恰当场合展示它们——在fete champêtre，即划船比赛。

有一次，骑马聚会结束后，在树下野餐时，大家一致决定，任何人都不应该在晚餐时间换衣服，戈尔康达戴着一条华丽的项链出现在她的骑马裙外面，当有人责备她违反了不穿衣服的普遍约定，她回答说：“实际上，她在不知道那是什么的情况下，非常匆忙地穿上了那件衣服，只是为了满足她带来三套衣服的小侍从的要求。”珠宝供她选择——她选择了 最脱衣服的 三个人中的一个，只是因为她不能让这个可怜的小家伙失望。”

每个人都看到了这种表演的矫揉造作和愚蠢，尤其是粗俗，那些最嫉妒的人最渴望通过嘲笑来安慰自己。 “戈尔康达”的声音从未消失，但卡特琳女士已经准备好用一些例子来展示她的“荒谬的虚荣心”。 “如果命运赐予她这样的珠宝，”卡特琳女士说道，“她相信自己应该更加优雅地佩戴它们；”但对小玩意的兴趣似乎并没有因为嘲笑而减弱——恰恰相反，很明显，笑者只是嫉妒，而嫉妒是因为他们无法被嫉妒。

塞西莉亚女士生性没有嫉妒心，而且非常慷慨，她并没有参加这种徒劳的竞争；相反，她没有佩戴任何珠宝，因为海伦没有。此外，简单确实是最好的品味，将军是这么说的——这在一段时间内是想得很好，做得很好，但塞西莉亚心里潜藏着一点对装饰品的喜爱，海伦对这种品味也不是完全没有同情心。她的叔叔很早就经常送给她一些可以想象到的最漂亮的小饰品，这让她很兴奋。这种味道随着她对一个她如此深爱的人的爱而成熟，而且似乎也随着它的起源而消亡了。在离开塞西尔赫斯特之前，海伦已经把她拥有的所有装饰品都送给了她。她认为她再也不需要它们了，她把它们留给那些爱过她和她叔叔的人作为纪念。

塞西莉亚在生日那天给她带来了一套勿忘我，以配合她自己打算穿的那套，而这也是很久以前由亲爱的好院长亲自送给塞西莉亚女士的。这对海伦来说是不可抗拒的，于是他们就接受了。但这只是海伦不愿接受的更有价值的礼物的前奏。然而-

“经常拒绝，从不冒犯”

这件事并不像说的那么容易，尤其是对塞西莉亚女士来说；她是那么迫切，那么爱抚，有那么多合理的理由，适合所有场合。在将军的生日那天，塞西莉亚女士自然希望佩戴他送给自己的第一份礼物——一对漂亮的珍珠手镯，但海伦也必须拥有同样的。海伦认为罗马珍珠也适合她。她见过一些如此精美的仿制品，任何人的眼睛都无法察觉其中的差异。 “没眼睛！很可能;但还是你自己的良心，亲爱的！”塞西莉亚女士回答道。 “如果人们问它们是否真实，你会说什么？你知道哪里都有无礼之人；恶意的卡特琳娜女士，她会问问题。哦！确实，我无法忍受想到你因假货而被发现。在所有的装饰品中，要么是真品，要么是无品——无品或真品。”

“那么，这次就由我来吧，亲爱的塞西莉亚。”

塞西莉亚似乎屈服了，海伦认为她已经很好地解决了。但在将军的日子里 盛宴，珍珠手镯放在她的梳妆台上。这是将军送来的，不能拒绝。塞西莉亚宣称她与此事无关。

“噢，塞西莉亚！”

“我保证！”塞西莉亚夫人喊道； “如果你怀疑我，将军将有幸在完整的沙龙中提出，而你则将痛苦地拒绝或接受它们。”

海伦叹了口气，犹豫了一下，还是屈服了。将军看到她带着手镯出现，鞠躬，微笑着，用他最和善的眼神向她致谢。她很高兴看到他再次善意地看着她。

这一次，塞西莉亚女士愉快地表达了自己的观点，但她并没有就此止步。海伦发现除了提前向自己说明她认为接受的任何事情之外，别无他法。

新的展示场合和新的消费必需品不断出现。回顾、比赛、赛马、射箭比赛、射箭球，过去都是这样，帆船赛也将如此。其中一些场合，女士们穿着特定的制服，当然，今天是新的。现在帆船赛的准备工作已经开始，并且正在进行中。比赛将持续数天：早上的划船比赛结束后，晚上将举行舞会。第一个是在克拉伦登公园，费利西小姐将她女士的礼服视为宇宙中最重要的物品之一。她常常对着长期未打开的珠宝盒叹息。她的夫人也可能是个无名小卒。费利西小姐无法理解一位出身高贵的女士不穿那些让她与众不同的衣服。如果她要佩戴珠宝，那么舞厅肯定是合适的地方。蓝宝石项链看起来 拉维尔 配上她女士的裙子，事实上，如果没有它，那件衣服就没有任何效果。会相当 梅斯基讷 和 错过了.

现在，塞西莉亚夫人非常想戴上那条蓝宝石项链，菲丽西在开始抗议时可能就看到了这条项链，因为这是训练有素的女侍者工作的一部分，表达她的女士希望应该表达的想法。被占卜并被迫完成。塞西莉亚考虑是否可以将她的两排蓝宝石分开，为海伦和她自己制作一套。她之所以犹豫，只是因为它们是她母亲送给她的，她不想冒损坏这套东西的危险。但她仍然可以做到，而且她会做到的。费利西小姐抗议说，这种尝试简直就是亵渎。为了防止这种情况发生，她向海伦暗示了她正在考虑的事情。

海伦知道，对于塞西莉亚来说，一旦她下定决心要做这种慷慨的事，再怎么抗议也是徒劳的。她担心，如果阻止她对蓝宝石进行深思熟虑的分割，她会为她购买一套新的：她根本不知道费用是多少，但是，此刻，她认为任何事情都比让塞西莉亚破坏更好她母亲的礼物，或者让她承担这种新的义务。她知道这些蓝宝石是从与她叔叔打过交道的珠宝商那里买来的，而这些珠宝商对她的名字并不陌生。她写道，并定制了一套与塞西莉亚夫人相似的套装。

“魅力！ 正是这件事，”费利西小姐预见到，“一位出身如此出身的年轻女士会决定这样做。如果她可以补充一点的话，最好趁这个机会订购一枚红宝石胸针，和她女士的一样，因为这将是第二天帆船赛上不可或缺的下一个对象。为了那晚的出现； 积极地，她知道如果斯坦利小姐不自己做这件事，她的女士会为斯坦利小姐做这件事。”

海伦认为胸针不会很贵；她认为胸针可能会很贵。没有时间考虑这件事——邮件正在发送——她担心塞西莉亚女士进来发现她在写信，并阻止她寄出这封信。她匆忙添加了胸针的订单，写完信，然后寄出。当它消失后，她告诉塞西莉亚她做了什么。塞西莉亚看起来很吃惊。她很清楚海伦并不知道她所定下的条件的代价很高。但是，她决定用自己的方式解决这件事，所以小心翼翼地不引起任何惊慌，摇摇头，只是开玩笑地责备海伦如此偷袭了她。

“你认为你已经超越了我，但我们拭目以待。记住，我是将军的妻子，并不是没有资源。”

关于赛船会，关于晴朗的天气，关于美丽的景象，关于女士们的服装，当时的报纸上都出现了完整的报道，在这里重复是没有用的，而且是可耻的。窃取或似乎窃取描述。我们只记录与海伦有关的事情。

凭借青春的活力和她天生快乐的脾气，她对整体感到高兴，对她来说这是一个全新的景象，每个人都很高兴，除了卡特琳女士，她在每一次娱乐中，总是发现一些让她恼火的东西。 ，一些“不应该这样”的事情。这一次她比平常更生气，因为今天早上的制服不适合她，尤其是斯坦利小姐，正如所有先生们所观察到的那样。

就在女士们为晚上的舞会换装之前，珍贵的盒子到达了，里面装有那组蓝宝石。塞西莉亚急切地打开它，看看一切正常。海伦不在房间里。卡特琳女士站在一旁，当她发现这些是给海伦的时，她的嫉妒愤怒爆发了。 “同辈的可怜的女儿不能沉迷于这种事情，”她喊道。 “它们只适合富有的女继承人！我明白，”她继续说，“斯坦利小姐捐出了自己的财产来偿还她叔叔的债务，但我想她已经考虑得更好了，正如我一直预言的那样——慷慨是迷人的，但毕竟是蓝宝石。太合适了！”

演讲刚结束，海伦就走进了房间。卡特琳女士手里拿着其中一只手镯。她看起来非常生气，因为她对斯坦利小姐的同一辆交通工具所期待的一些装饰品感到失望。她抗议说她今晚没有合适的衣服穿。海伦看着塞西莉亚。虽然塞西莉亚的表情并没有给她带来任何鼓励，但她恳求卡特琳女士今晚能荣幸地佩戴这些蓝宝石，因为她还没有收到夫人所订购的东西。凯特琳夫人忍受着被说服的痛苦，但她却以尽可能不优雅的态度接受了。舞会继续进行，海伦至少比戴上手镯要快乐。她不喜欢成为嫉妒的对象，现在，当她发现塞西莉亚可以并且感到满意时，尽管他们的装饰品并不完全相同，但她完全意识到她在指定这些蓝宝石时做了愚蠢的事情：此刻只是短暂的自责奢侈，但在今晚她睡觉之前，情况变得更加严重。

达维南特夫人一整天都在等待，但她直到舞会进行到很晚才到达，她只是看了几分钟舞者，然后就回到了自己的公寓。海伦本来会跟着她，但这是不被允许的。然而，舞会结束后，当她正要回自己的房间时，她听到达维南特夫人的声音，在她经过时呼唤着她。轻轻地打开门，她发现她还醒着，如果她不是太累的话，她想见她几分钟。

“哦，不，一点也不累；恰恰相反，”海伦说。

深情地拥抱了她之后，达维南特女士将她拉开，看着她，灯光照在她的脸上和身材上。达维南特夫人对她的整个外表很满意，微笑着看着她说道：但海伦，特别让我高兴的是你的裙子完美简约。今晚我在舞厅的几分钟里，我被那位衣冠楚楚的公爵夫人所吸引：从那时起，她的身影就一直出现在我的眼前，周围挂满了珠宝，还有那 光环 她头上一英尺半高：就像俄罗斯新娘的头饰，赫伯称其为“他见过的最昂贵的畸形”。确实，这种对小玩意的热情，”达文南特女士继续说道，“是我们性别的普遍热情。我给你举个例子，看看它有多么奢侈。我认识一位位高权重的女士，她每年以一千五百英镑的价格租用一对祖母绿耳环。她以这种方式从一位德国伯爵夫人那里租来了它们，它们是她家族的传家宝，不能出售。”海伦表达了她的惊讶。 “亲爱的，这只是一个例子；我可以给你几百。全世界各个年龄段、各个阶层、各种状况的女性都被这种小玩意所疯狂——从柜台到王位。想想玛丽·安托瓦内特和她项链的故事；还有约瑟芬和她的山南珍珠，以及她向她尊敬的皇帝、她所爱的丈夫讲述的所有谎言——这一切都是为了什么呢？——一串珠子！但我忘记了，”达维南特夫人喊道，打断了自己的话，“我不能忘记已经很晚了：我在叫你起床，而你一直在跳舞：原谅我！当我的心一动，我就忘记了所有的时间。晚安——或者早上好，我亲爱的孩子；走吧，休息吧。”但就在海伦收回手的时候，达维南特女士的目光落在了她的珍珠手镯上——“罗马珍珠，还是真的？是真的，我明白了，而且非常有价值！——我想是你可怜的、亲爱的、奢侈的叔叔送给你的吧？

海伦清除了她叔叔的记忆，并解释说这些手镯是克拉伦登将军的礼物。她不知道它们如此“非常有价值”，但她希望自己在这种情况下接受它们并没有做错；她讲述了她是如何被诱导服用这些药物的。

达维南特女士说她做得非常正确。将军不是礼物制造者，这个对他有利的例外不会给未来带来任何不便。 “但是塞西莉亚，”她继续说，“太沉迷于赠送小饰品，即使在朋友之间，这种行为也常常导致不愉快，或者无论如何都会培养出一种愚蠢的品味，而且以一种特别欺骗和危险的方式将其与感情联系在一起。像我这样一个心地善良的小人，他的常识很容易让位于取悦朋友的快乐或冒犯朋友的恐惧。吻我吧，不要反驳我，因为你的良心告诉你，我说的是真的。”

海伦的脑海中浮现出蓝宝石、红宝石胸针，以及所有未了结的账目。如果当时光线照在她的脸上，一定能看出她的尴尬。但达维南特夫人说完最后一句话后，把头枕在枕头上，转身舒服地睡着了。海伦带着良心不安退休了。她早上做的第一件事就是查看装着蓝宝石的红色盒子，看看是否有任何价格记录。她记得看到过一些小卡片——它是在梳妆台上发现的。当她看到这个价格时，恐惧让她屏住了呼吸——这几乎是她全年收入的一半；还是她 可以 付钱吧。但是红宝石胸针还没有到——要花多少钱呢？她赶紧去算账。她已经让它们在不经意的情况下运行了几个月，但她认为她必须通过自己的实际财产来了解服装的主要费用。海伦用费利西的鬼脸把一堆皱巴巴的小钞票扔进了她的抽屉里。她徒劳地试图解读这些数字，就像药剂师的标记一样，与四分之一、四分之三、码数的纱布、丝绸和细布相连，完全令人费解。在其他时候，它们可能会很可笑，但现在，它们对海伦来说却是相当可怕。她唯一能看清的就是总数；当她看到无足轻重的东西竟然能产生如此大的影响时，她感到很惊讶，这是最有经验的人常常感到的惊讶——更何况是海伦，她还不习惯经济算术！这时，她的女仆带着一个包裹微笑着走了进来，仿佛她确信这就是她小姐最想要的东西。这是胸针——她最不想看到的东西。她用颤抖的手打开包裹，看了看价格单，然后半愣愣地坐在椅子上，眼睛盯着金额。她不知道坐了多久，直到被塞西莉亚的门打开惊醒，她赶紧收起文件。 “让我看看它们，亲爱的，别把那些文件收起来，”塞西莉亚喊道。 “费利西告诉我，你这两个小时一直在处理这些可怕的账目，而且——你看——我亲爱的海伦，你必须让我看看到底有多少钱！”她从海伦的手下划出总数。就连塞西莉亚也感到震惊，从她第一次毫无防备的惊讶表情中可见一斑。但她立刻回过神来，用一种戏谑的责骂语气告诉海伦，这一切的祸害降临在她身上，都是她的秘密阴谋造成的。 “你开始抵制我，写了一些我可能无法为你得到的东西，你知道结果是什么！至于这些账单，都是来自于不急于付款的商人；至于菲丽西给你拿的东西，她可以等，她不是职业女服务员吗？现在，红宝石胸针在哪里？你从来没有看过它吗？——我希望它很漂亮——我确信它很漂亮，”她打开盒子时喊道。 “是的;我非常喜欢它，我会把它从你手里拿下来，亲爱的；这样就可以了吗？”

“不，塞西莉亚，我不能让你这么做，因为我知道你已经有一个一样的了，你不能想要另一个——不，不。”

“亲爱的，你说话像天使，但你看起来不像天使，”塞西莉亚说。 “真是可惜了，这么苍白的生物，我从来没见过！一定要看看镜子里的自己；但你实在是太可怜了，无法忍受瘟疫。说真的，我想要这枚胸针，而且它一定是我的——它是我的：我向你保证，我有它的用处。”

“好吧，如果你真的有用它，”海伦说，“我确实会很高兴——”

“那就高兴吧，这是我的，”塞西莉亚说。 “现在它是你的了，我亲爱的海伦，现在，什么也不说！祈祷吧，如果你爱我的话！”

海伦无法接受。她全心全意地感谢塞西莉亚，感受到她的善意、她的慷慨，但连那句迄今为止无法抗拒的“如果你爱我”，都徒然催促。如果不是真的需要钱，她可能会被过度说服，但现在她的独立精神坚定了她的决心，她坚持拒绝。达维南特夫人的铃声响起，海伦缓缓起身，拿起那些悲惨的账目，说道：“现在我必须走了——”

“在哪里！”塞西莉亚说； “你看起来好像听到了召唤你的丧钟——你要做什么？”

“把我所有的蠢事都告诉达文南特女士。”

“除了我之外，不要告诉任何人你的愚蠢行为，”塞西莉亚女士喊道。 “我自己有足够的同情心，但不要去告诉我的母亲，在所有人中；她一个自己都没有的人，怎么能指望得到怜悯呢？”

“我不;我很乐意承担我应得的所有责备，但我知道，在她听完我的讲话后，她会告诉我应该做什么，她会找到某种方法来正确地解决这一切，如果可以的话是的，我不在乎我受了多少苦。所以我越早去找她越好，”海伦说。

“但你不必这么着急；不要像那个人那样说：“Je veux être l'enfant prodigue，je veux être l'enfant perdu。” L'enfant prodigue，很好，但为什么是l'enfant perdu？”

“亲爱的塞西莉亚，现在别跟我玩了——别阻止我。”海伦焦急地说。 “现在事情对我来说很严重，我已经尽力了——”

塞西莉亚放开了她，但当她看着她，看到她停在母亲门口时，她为她颤抖。

海伦的第一声敲门声太小了，她听不见，她只得等待。另一个声音更大了，回答道：“进来吧。”她站在众人面前，立刻冲进了这一切之中。账目和总数都摆在达维南特夫人面前。就是这样：罪犯认罪后，站在那里等待宣判。

第一次惊讶的神情变化，确实难以维持。 “我应该预见到这一点，”达文南特夫人说。 “我的感情欺骗了我的判断。海伦，我为你和我自己感到抱歉。”

“哦，不要用那种可怕的平静的声音说话，好像——不要立刻放弃我一样，”海伦喊道。

“我能为你做什么？一个没有意志力的人能做什么呢？”我有一些，海伦想，否则我现在不应该在这里。 “海伦，你的好心——你的好意，如果没有能力去实现，那又有什么用呢？当你被最初的微不足道的诱惑——最可鄙的激情——对小玩意的激情所吸引，就偏离了正确的方向！你告诉我不是那样的，然后呢？任何一个能微笑、抚摸、告诉你他们爱你的人的几句劝说；——担心得罪塞西莉亚！多么荒唐啊！这就是你们所谓的友谊吗？但更弱的是，海伦，我发现你被一个喋喋不休的法国侍女蒙住了眼睛，陷入了奢侈的境地——到了毁灭的边缘，到了不诚实的边缘。”

“不诚实！如何？”

“问问你自己，海伦：一个向主人订购并拿走他无法支付的东西的人是诚实的吗？回答我，诚实还是不诚实。”

“不诚实！如果我本来打算不付钱的话。但我确实打算付钱，而且我会的。”

“你会！弱者没有意志——永远不敢说我愿意。告诉我你将如何偿还你所欠的钱。你别无选择——除了将你已经愿意的资金用于其他目的之外。海伦，当你无法遵守这些愿望时，看看这是多么好的愿望吧！”

“但是我可以，”海伦喊道。 “无论我做什么，我都不会动那笔注定要送给我亲爱的叔叔的基金——我没有动过它。我可以在两年内付清，而且我会——我会放弃我的全部津贴。”

“那你这段时间靠什么生活呢？”

“我不应该说出我的全部零用钱，但我能用的很少，我不会买任何新东西。”

“什么都不买——什么都不吃！”达维南特夫人重复道； “我多少次听到最无远见的人在悔改的时刻说出这些话，即使那时他们仍然像以前一样盲目和不计后果！而你，海伦，请跟我谈谈你的忍耐力量——你怀着内心所能感受到的最强烈的动机，却在短短几个月内无法抵制最愚蠢、最无用的幻想。”

海伦泪流满面。但达文南特夫人却无动于衷，至少表面上如此，她冷冷地说：“这不是你想要的感觉，也不是我向你要求的感觉；我不会因为言语或眼泪而感到满足。”

“这一切都是我应得的，”海伦说。 “我知道你并不残忍。在这一切之中，我知道你是我最好的朋友。”

达维南特夫人现在不得不保持沉默，以免她的声音比她的表情透露出更多的温柔。

“只告诉我现在能做什么，”海伦继续说道。 “我能做些什么？”

“你能做什么，我会告诉你，海伦。昨晚和你跳舞的那个男人是谁？”

“我和几个人一起跳舞；你是什​​么意思？

“当我进来时，你的伙伴正在跳四方舞。”

“埃斯特里奇勋爵：但是你认识他——他经常来这里。”

“他很有钱吗？”达维南特夫人说道。

“哦，是的，非常富有，而且非常自给自足：他就是塞西莉亚过去称呼的那个人”功绩王子。'“

“是吗？我不记得了。我敢说，他没有给我留下任何印象，也没有给你留下任何印象。”

“确实，并非最不重要。”

“没关系，他会做得和别人一样好，因为他很有钱。你可以嫁给他，偿还你目前的债务，然后签订新的合同，几千而不是几百：——这就是你能做的，海伦。”

“你觉得我可以吗？”海伦说。

“我想你可以，其他人也可以。你知道年轻姑娘结婚往往是为了还债吗？”

“我曾经听说过，”海伦说，“但这可能吗？”

“相当。你可能被告知更多——他们与服装制造商和珠宝商建立了定期的合作伙伴关系、股份公司，他们在年轻女士们或多或少的美丽或时尚声誉上进行冒险和讨价还价，为她们提供华丽的服饰，推测他们婚姻成功的可能性，并相信婚后会得到回报。为什么不在城里实施下个赛季的这个计划呢？你必须像其他人一样来对待它，你要效仿他们的榜样——为什么不立即开始呢？”

没有什么比在我们确实应得的责备中听到对我们明知是不应有的、不可能的错误的假设和指责更能让良心放心的了。海伦并没有因为达维南特夫人所说的话而感到受伤或惊慌，而是完全没有注意到这整个想法，以至于这些话几乎没有在她的脑海中留下任何印象，她的思绪认真地回到了紧迫的主要问题上——“什么？”我能诚实地偿还我所欠的这笔钱吗？”她突然问达维南特女士是否认为可以说服珠宝商收回蓝宝石和胸针？

“当然不会，否则你会受到很大的损失，”达维南特夫人回答道。但她的脸色有了明显的好转，她补充道：“放弃这个小玩意的决心还是好的；如果你有决心，我们会为你想出办法，无论损失多少。”

“决定了！——哦，是的。”她跑去拿手镯和胸针，急切地把它们塞到达文南特夫人的手里。现在，另一个好主意出现在她的脑海里：她有一辆属于自己的马车——一辆非常漂亮的马车，几乎是新的；她有一辆属于自己的马车。她可以放弃它——是的，她愿意，尽管这是她亲爱的叔叔的礼物——他最后的礼物；他很高兴能把它完美地适合她。她非常非常喜欢它，但她又会放弃它；她看不出还有什么其他办法可以履行她的诺言，偿还他和她自己的债务。这件事很快在她的脑海中闪过。当她表达了自己的决心后，达维南特夫人的态度立刻恢复了平常的友善，她一边拥抱她，一边把她拉到自己身边，一遍又一遍地亲吻她，大声喊道——“你是我自己的海伦！海伦，这些是行动，而不是言语：我很满意——我现在可能对你感到满意了！

“至于那辆马车，亲爱的，它不会给陌生人，它应该是我的。我想要一辆旅行躺椅——我会从你那里购买它：为了我可怜的朋友，也为了你，海伦，我会珍惜它。现在事情已经解决了，你又清清楚楚了。我永远不会宠坏你，但我会永远为你服务，这是我在这个世界上无法得到的更大的快乐。”

在愉快地结束了可怕的坦白之后，海伦为自己有勇气向她的朋友讲述一切而感到多么高兴。痛苦是短暂的，而信心却是永久的。

海伦正要走进自己的房间，就看到塞西莉亚从楼梯上飞奔过来，手里拿着一封公开信，脸上洋溢着喜悦的光芒。 “我一直都知道一切都会有好结果！丘吉尔很可能会说我沙漏里的所有沙子都是钻石沙。好了，我亲爱的海伦——好了，”塞西莉亚喊道，一边拥抱着她，一边把信塞到她手里。这是博克勒克寄来的，是他对塞西莉亚夫人的信的答复，这封信跟随他去了那不勒斯。当他读完她的解释后，他立即写下了这封信，他心里暖暖的，倾诉了听到真相时所感受到的所有喜悦，在他的喜悦中，他宣布他完全原谅了塞西莉亚女士，并且会如她所愿，忘记她给他带来的所有痛苦。他担心一些令人困惑的隔离可能会拘留他，但他肯定会在尽可能短的时间内到达克拉伦登公园。他说，海伦的第一个微笑会安慰他所受的一切，让他忘记一切。

他没有看到海伦最初的微笑，也没有看到她阅读时泛起的红晕。塞西莉亚很高兴。 “慷慨、深情的塞西莉亚！”海伦想； “如果她有缺点，而她真的只有一个缺点，谁能不爱她呢？”当然不是海伦，否则她就是人类中最忘恩负义的人了。除了对海伦的幸福表示同情之外，塞西莉亚还对这封信感到特别高兴，因为这封信是在她母亲回来后的第二天寄来的。因为虽然博克勒克离开时她写信给达维南特夫人，告诉她他离开只是因为贝尔特拉弗斯勋爵的缘故，但她担心，当谈到谈话时，她母亲的洞察力会发现发生了一些不寻常的事情。现在一切都很容易了。博克勒克要回来了：他已经完成了朋友的事情，在返回克拉伦登公园之前，他想知道他是否可以作为斯坦利小姐公认的崇拜者出现在那里——如果他有任何成功的机会向她致意的话。塞西莉亚确信她的母亲永远不会要求看这封信，因为她认为这要么是给他的监护人的私人通信，要么是给海伦的情书，所以塞西莉亚把这个版本给了达文南特夫人。海伦也不知道她是如何与将军解决这件事的，但一切似乎都顺利而正确。

现在，帆船赛结束了，射箭比赛也结束了，克拉伦登公园本赛季不再有进一步欢乐的希望，卡斯尔福特夫妇和卡特琳女士离开了。卡特琳夫人最后的满足是她在告别斯坦利小姐时那种冷酷傲慢的表情——这种表情，以及苦涩的微笑和良好教养的冷酷形式都可以表达它，不可征服的、不可征服的仇恨。

当我们全神贯注于自己的重要利益时，没有什么比立即将注意力转向朋友的小事更能检验感情的强度了。这是达文南特夫人最近送给海伦的友谊的证明，因为当她如此热心地介入海伦的小困难和债务时，达文南特勋爵的重大政治事务和重要利益却悬而未决。 ，并重重地压在她的心上。这些政治尴尬的本质是什么尚未得到解释。达维南特夫人只是向他们暗示了一下。她说，“她从办公室里低等生物所表现出的恐惧中知道，政府预计会发生一些变化，因为据说在暴风雨、地震或任何自然大震动发生之前，野兽会嚎叫和颤抖。”

自从达文南特夫人从达文南特勋爵仍留在城里的镇上回来后，就没有人提及驻俄罗斯大使馆的事，只是说它被推迟了。塞西莉亚夫人反应敏捷，而且，在她不关心自己的事情上，通常是正确的，在解释她母亲的沮丧迹象时，她猜测达文南特勋爵已经被某个才华横溢的外交家所绕开，她对海伦说：“当妈妈从朋友那里听到了一句格言，她总是按照这句话行事。但是，无论是不是屁股踢的，都会留下瘀伤，有时我们会不自觉地告诉自己，我的母亲应该记住那位朋友的另一条格言，即伟人的错误和愚蠢是小人物的快乐和安慰。 。现在，我的母亲，虽然从她出众的能力和坚强的意志等方面来看，她非常适合成为一位伟大政治领袖的妻子，但在某些方面，她是地球上最不适合的人。 情况;因为，尽管她觉得有必要和解，但她无法对她的下级，即半个世界，保持不屈服。正如卡塔拉尼谈到歌唱时所说，下降比上升要困难得多。令人震惊的是，妈妈有时从她的举止中表现出她是多么厌倦愚蠢的人，以及她多么鄙视卑鄙的人。所有的下属都认为她可以和爸爸一起解除他们的关系，因为她的事已经传到国外了 统治事实上，尽管爸爸征求了她的意见，但可以肯定的是，因为她太聪明了，她从来没有干涉过哪怕一丁点；但是，现在她所做的事情一旦进入了世界顽固的头脑，就再也无法消除，而妈妈是地球上最后一个愿意承担自己的责任，或者屈尊解释并纠正事情的人。她总是想着爸爸的荣耀和公众的利益，但公众永远不会感谢他，更不用说她了；因此，她是一位烈士，没有戴上王冠；现在，如果我要殉道，但愿上帝禁止这样做！我至少会小心翼翼地保护我的王冠，让我的荣耀环绕在我的头上，并开始表现得体。但说实话，我亲爱的海伦，”塞西莉亚女士继续说道，“我向你保证，我对爸爸和妈妈不满意。我看到不满的小云长期聚集、降低、变黑，我知道它们最终会在一场巨大的风暴中从他们的头顶爆发。”

海伦不希望如此，但看上去很害怕。

“哦，亲爱的，你可能不希望这样，但我知道会这样——我们可能听不到雷声，但我们会看到更加危险的闪电。我们将会被击倒，除非——”她停顿了一下。

“除非什么？”海伦说。

“除非风暴及时驱散。”

“如何？”

“由一些良导体引出的闪电——比如我自己；我是很认真的，虽然你刚才因为我笑而生我的气，好像我不是最好的女儿一样，但我虽然笑，但我可以告诉你，我正在为我的母亲默想一种自我奉献的行为——盛大的 政变设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“政变？你，塞西莉亚！亲爱的-”

“我，海伦，和你想的一样小。”

“对于你的政治才能，你不会指望我想太多，是吗？”

“我的政治天赋！你将会看到它们是什么。我有能力成就大事 政变。下周我将在克拉伦登公园举行为期三天的反政治大会，如果我可以的话，那里不会听到任何政治言论，除了废话之外也不会听到任何东西，结果将是，正如你将看到的，所有男人和所有女人——女人之间的善意？是的，这就是重点。妈妈如此冒犯了两位女士，她们称之为非常有影响力的女士——马沙姆女士，宫廷中最受宠的女士，以及贝尔克罗夫特女士，她从军中崛起，靠在她丈夫的肩膀上；她是一位非常有影响力的女士。他，“一个法律人”，本杰明·贝尔克罗夫特爵士，我听说她非常聪明，但声音很大而且粗鲁；直到最近，她还被认为是绝对不可接受的，而现在，只是为了她丈夫的缘故才容忍她，但我必须把她留在这里。”

“我认为你最好不要这样做，”海伦抗议道。 “如果她如此粗俗，达维南特女士和将军将永远不会容忍她。”

“哦，他会的！为了妈妈，将军会承担很多，为了爸爸，将军会承担更多。我必须拥有她，亲爱的，因为丈夫很重要，尽管他为她感到羞耻，但正因为如此，他不能忍受任何人忽视她，而妈妈已经忽视了她！现在，我亲爱的海伦，不要再说任何反对的话了。”海伦只说了很少的话。 “我必须好好思考，”塞西莉亚继续说道，“列出我的贤人名单，我的协约党。”

海伦首先向达维南特夫人提出了很多建议。但塞西莉亚夫人担心她的母亲可能过于骄傲而不会同意她自己的任何进展。海伦仍然担心，将这些不和的人聚集在一起永远不会成功，但塞西莉亚夫人总是乐于用符合自己意愿的言语来回报自己，她回答说：“处理得当的不和往往会产生最好的和谐。”她唯一担心的是，她不能迈出第一步，不能说服将军让她发出邀请。事实上，这需要她所有有说服力的言语和更具说服力的外表来完成这一初步工作，并让克拉伦登将军邀请或允许被邀请到克拉伦登公园，他对这些人知之甚少，而且一点也不喜欢。但正如塞西莉亚夫人恳求并敦促此事很快就会结束一样，“整个事件将在三天内结束——只需三天的访问；为了妈妈！——我确信，克拉伦登——你会为她、爸爸和你自己的塞西莉亚做任何事吗？ “——将军微笑着，便条写好了，邀请也被接受了，当克拉伦登将军同意后，他坚决以礼貌的态度接待了这些不速之客。他的举止并不虚伪。这只是一种适当的礼貌，不会欺骗任何了解传统良好教养标志的人。然而，要保持正确的分界线，他需要拥有相当大的权力，特别是他对一个人有强烈的政治厌恶：哈雷先生。克拉伦登将军对他的名字感到厌恶，他通常称他为“那个”。天才，塞西莉亚——你母亲的最爱！ “——而对达文南特女士来说，哈利先生是唯一一个她在场时能感到高兴的人，或者是能让派对上的其他人让她忍受的人。海伦虽然对这次大会的最终结果感到担忧，但还是忍不住高兴，因为她现在有机会见到一些通常被认为“人类崇高地位”的人。在知道谁是谁之后，很容易确定我们应该找出每张脸上的特征品质和才能。然而，塞西莉亚夫人不愿告诉海伦，晚饭前他们走进客厅时，聚集在一起的那些著名的无名人士的名字，她努力从他们的谈话中猜测说话者的不同性格。但只说了几句话，没有任何意义。鼻烟盒被呈现，捏捏和倾斜形成互惠，但鼻烟盒的相貌海伦无法解释，尽管拉瓦特断言自然界中的每件事物，甚至一杯茶，都有相貌。

晚餐宣布了，大家结伴而行，似乎没有遵守他们的出发顺序。然而，所有人，特别是有些人是陌生人，都暗自留意自己的荣誉，他们只是先行一步，发现自己在餐桌上占据了应有的位置。

但海伦在餐厅里对这些伟大人物的性格的了解似乎并不比在客厅里更多。因为经常发生这样的情况：当最有名望的人，甚至最有智慧的人为了谈话的目的而明确地聚集在一起时，谈话并不会流动，而是陷入沉默，最后以完全愚蠢的停滞而告终。每个人似乎都因自己的声誉而感到压抑，而且，由于名流的骄傲和地位高的人的羞涩（无论是真实的还是做作的），每个人都害怕用一句话来承诺自己。对立党派的人，当聚集在一起时，不可能立即改变他们的整个思想习惯，也不可能不费力地克制住他们在拥有一切时习惯于沉溺于对他们对立面的谩骂。现在，每个话题似乎都很费劲——因为在党派精神的迂腐中，没有哪个党派会用自己的行话或行话来说话。知识不仅在一个入口处，而且在每一个入口处都被完全关闭，甚至文学本身也变得危险，所以为了安全起见，他们都必须是愚蠢的。

当塞西莉亚·克拉伦登夫人把这些性格各异、性格各异的人聚集在她的餐桌旁时，她几乎没有意识到自己在做什么。她尽了最大的努力，徒劳无功，并且熟练地投掷了谈话球，一次又一次地投掷，双方都没有反弹，她觉得一切都是平淡的，沉默和愚蠢绝对是无敌的。当海伦事后试图回忆时，她简直不敢相信，今天，在整个第一堂课中，她实际上只听到了以下句子，这些句子在每对问题和答案之间间隔很长的时间间隔——或者观察和回答。默认：——“我们洗了个澡。”——“是的，我想是的。” “但是我们的天气非常好。”——“只是太热了。”——“相当不错。” “马伯莫尔的新建筑——进展顺利吗，大人？”——“不知道；不是那样来的。” “邓斯坦伯里现在有谁？”是下一个问题。然后回复慢慢地传来了一份时尚名字的名单。 “他们说约翰爵士的死值一百万。”——“是的，一位痛风烈士。” “雷切尔夫人有为她的眼睛做过什么吗？”——“我相信，去了布莱顿。” “有听说过有关北极探险的消息吗？”——“没有听说过。” “克罗克利有一位出色的厨师，而且还会英语。”——“英语！嗯？”——“英语——是的。”达维南特勋爵希望这位英国厨师能够在他的几个兄弟的帮助下 艺术家 今天，将我们的国家从格雷瓜尔神父的一半责难中拯救出来。神甫曾说过，英格兰将成为世界上最好的国家，但它需要两个要素： 阳光 和 厨师。 “好的！好的！非常！”桌子两边的声音都发出来了；又是一片寂静。

然而，到了吃甜点的时候，仆人们离开后，大多数人开始和旁边的邻居闲聊起来。但海伦并没有从中受益，因为每一对都低声说话，而她两边的人都不愿意说话。她坐在本杰明·贝尔克罗夫特爵士和哈利先生之间——本杰明爵士是法律人，哈利先生是天才，两人都是同类中的佼佼者。但他的法律似乎除了法律之外一无所有，而他却充满了法律。在本杰明爵士的人类生活经济中，这是一条他始终实践的健康规则，让他的理解力与同伴一起沉睡，以便它可以在法庭上醒来，而为了他的休息，他不需要一些伟人所宣称的那样就像——“女人心灵的枕头。”海伦对于这位伟大的法律权威的沉默并没有多大的遗憾，但她却很遗憾这位天才之人不说话；她没想到他会和她说话，但她想听他和别人交谈。但他出了点问题。从他坐下来吃晚饭的那一刻起，海伦就发现他似乎很局促不安。他先用手捂住眼睛，然后按着额头：她担心他头疼得厉害。那只手放在他的耳边，做出一种畏缩的、令人痛苦的姿势。海伦想，一定是耳朵疼了。不久，他的下巴就被捏在一起了。也许是牙痛。她终于发现了令人不安的原因。哈雷先生的对面，达维南特夫人的旁边，坐着一个他无法忍受的人。首先，是对方的一个，但这算不了什么；在哈雷先生看来，这个人对任何一方来说都是一种耻辱，什么能让他来到这里呢？他们在公开场合打过几次架，但以前从未在私人场合见过面，哈利先生的厌恶似乎与距离的平方成反比。海伦在这个物体上看不出产生这种反感的充分理由：这位绅士看起来彬彬有礼，面带微笑，相当卑鄙，而且相当微不足道，而他确实像他表现出来的那样微不足道——从任何角度来看都不重要。他的职位并不高，也不是大使，也不是 临时代办;不确定他是 附 甚至，但据说他有耳朵 谁，并被认为秘密受雇于性质模棱两可的外交交易；被他的上级拒绝，但却被利用，并受到胆怯的下级的追捧，他说服了他们巨大的影响力 某处。塞西莉亚夫人已经从权威人士那里得到保证，他是一个应该为她父亲的缘故而安抚的人，但是现在，当她意识到他是什么样的人时，她为他被邀请而感到深深的悔恨；因为他是一个不诚实的人。他旁边坐着她的母亲，她看上去很压抑，很恶心。

晚餐就这样结束了。当塞西莉亚女士从将军身边走出房间时，她一脸悔恨，承认他的预言是完全正确的，这永远不会实现。

当女士们独自一人时，情况会更糟。聚会中的一些人与达维南特夫人素不相识。大家都充分听说过她。大多数人对她都抱有一种可怕而错误的看法。海伦对她的女士在陌生人中引起的敬畏感到非常惊讶。达维南特女士此刻的外表和举止确实无法消除这种恐惧。她异常疏远和傲慢，这是出于一种错误的道德骄傲。意识到现在在她面前的一些人，通过自己或丈夫的手段，以各种方式有能力侍奉或伤害达文南勋爵，她不屑以丝毫的居高临下来安抚他们。

但是，在英国——伦敦——竟然有人对达维南特夫人来说是陌生人，而对于在场的外国女士来说，却是难以言表的惊讶。她无法理解政治生活中的高位人士的妻子，有些是相反的，但有些是同一党派的，为什么彼此之间常常是陌生人。外国人第一次来到英国时，很容易想象所有在公共生活中一起行动的人都必须属于同一个私人社会；相反，常常会发生这样的情况：女士们，尤其是同一派对的女士们，有着不同的时尚品味，在不同的轨道上移动。伦敦的不同圆圈和轨道的数量确实令陌生人感到惊讶，而对于那些没有见过的人来说，尽管它们相交，但它们各自保持自己的路径，吸引和排斥，或相互影响。并研究了星座图，完全无法理解。当她思考这个难题时，大使夫人，尽管她是个外国人，也不习惯沉默，但她没有说话，也没有人说话：除了茶碟上的杯子或杯子里的勺子之外，什么也没有听到，或者窗外苍蝇的嗡嗡声。

在这可怕的平静中，贝尔克罗夫特夫人大声说道：“我们真是太有趣了！这么多聪明人也聚集在一起，到底是为了什么？”那一刻看到马沙姆女士的脸是值得的！贝尔克罗夫特夫人看到了，不惧任何凡人，被马沙姆夫人滑稽的表情所震惊，不受控制地大笑起来，达维南特夫人的尊严和严肃的对比只让她笑得更厉害，直到走出房间最后她跑了。当然，马沙姆夫人始终没有流露出丝毫的想法：她有可能成为贝尔克罗夫特夫人欢笑的对象。但是达维南特女士——她是怎么接受的呢？让她女儿无限放松，安静地；她看起来很有趣，而不是不高兴。总的来说，她对贝尔克罗夫特夫人的忍受程度比预想的还要好。因为她只认为自己是一个不幸地脱离社会地位的人，而且，尽管她自己没有任何过错，却被从下层拖到了自然从未打算达到的高度，艺术和教育都没有为她做好准备。 ;因此，他们的缺点和缺陷立即暴露在党派的恶意和时尚的挑剔面前，而时尚不知道区分两者 精神的曼克及 用法的曼克.

达维南特夫人则不然：她甚至对那些最明显的举止错误也给予了自由和哲学的宽容，她进一步怀疑贝尔克罗夫特夫人故意夸大自己的粗俗，部分是为了消遣，部分是为了让人们盯着看，部分是为了防止他们的行为。通过隐藏现实的界限来看到什么是习惯的，什么是非自愿的。马沙姆夫人对此并没有最遥远的概念；相反，她现在准备讲述贝尔克罗夫特夫人的各种奇闻轶事。她说，她以前见过这个非凡的人，但从未在社会上见过她，很高兴意外地在这里找到她——“真是一种享受。”在社会氛围中，在某个高度上确实很少遇到这样的人物，马沙姆夫人特别高兴，因为他们感到宽慰，同时又增强了一种不足以自身的优越感。这样的人是公平的、享有特权的、安全的游戏，马沙姆女士开始了，就像一位决心特别严厉的评论家一样，带着一点赞扬。

“真的很帅，贝尔克罗夫特女士一定很帅！是的，正如你所说，塞西莉亚女士，她当然还没有完全成熟，只是对某些人来说太成熟了——幸运的是不适合本杰明爵士；你知道，很久以前，他娶了她，就是为了她的美丽。她是一个非常正确的人——一直都是；但他们确实重复了她所说的最奇怪的事情——太奇怪了！他们还讲述了她所做的事情的一些奇怪的故事。”马沙姆夫人随后详细讲述了各种轶事，其中主要与贝尔克罗夫特夫人的家庭护理有关，而她永远无法仓促地处理这些事情。接下来是关于她廉价的华丽和非凡的化妆权宜之计的故事。 “我承认，”马沙姆女士继续说道，“我一直认为我听到的描述一定是夸张的；但我们不得不承认，这里实际上非常缺乏机智。可怜的本杰明爵士！我很可怜他，他一定看到了！虽然他自己并不是第一次接触水，但当他看到贝尔克罗夫特夫人和其他人在一起时，他一定会有感觉！他有感情，尽管没有人能从他的表情中猜出这一点，而且据我所知，他也表现出了这种感情。可悲的是他有时对她很生气 不当行为。有一天，她坐在桌子的一头，他坐在桌子的另一头，她的女士大声喊道：“本杰明爵士！”本杰明爵士！这是我们的婚礼！他，可怜的人，没有听见；她再次大声喊道：“本杰明爵士，亲爱的，十五年前的今天，你和我结婚了！” “好吧，亲爱的，”他回答道，“好吧，亲爱的，我现在该怎么办呢！”

马沙姆夫人对这则轶事的成功感到高兴，大家都微笑起来，并保证其完全正确，“她是从一个人那里听到这件事的，而这个人是从事情发生时实际在场的一个人那里听到的。”达维南特夫人毫不怀疑这个故事的正确性，但她相信各方的名字不同；她几年前就听过另一个人的事。正如她所观察到的那样，对于那些以自己的可笑而闻名的人，以及那些因机智而闻名的人来说，所有同类中的美好事物都归因于他们。尽管他们可能没有一半的俏皮话，而另一个人可能不对他们所享有的一半荒谬负责。马沙姆夫人需要表现出全部的礼貌才能显得很高兴，也需要她的坦诚才能让最后的轶事得到纠正。但她听说过的许多贝尔克罗夫特夫人确实令人难以置信。 “然而人们几乎会相信她的任何事情。”当她说话的时候，贝尔克罗夫特夫人回来了，她的恶毒敌人靠在椅子上，仿佛期待着这首曲子的开始，等待她的木偶上场或被演奏。

一直以来，塞西莉亚女士都不太放松。她很清楚她母亲的感受，并且已经感觉到，当马沙姆夫人继续闲聊时，她站在夫人和达维南特夫人之间，而且，由于马沙姆夫人没有大声说话，塞西莉亚有一段时间，她沾沾自喜，认为她拦截声音或阻止声音传到母亲耳朵的值得称赞的努力已经成功，尤其是当她尽可能多地感叹“真的！”时。 “的确！” “多么非凡啊！” “你不这么说吗？”当她说出这些话时，可能会激发普通人的好奇心，但她知道这会在她母亲的心中消除所有倾听的欲望。然而，马沙姆夫人提高了声音，时不时地将脖子上的雪伸到塞西莉亚夫人的窗帘之外，以便真正引起达文南特夫人的注意。她女儿听到并感受到的后果。她听到象牙折叠刀在桌子上敲击、敲击、敲击的声音；她明白，甚至在看到母亲的面容之前，她就知道马沙姆夫人已经毁了自己，更重要的是，她破坏了与“妈妈”和解的所有机会，而这个联盟的目的是为了实现自己的目标。对“爸爸”来说具有如此终极的优势。

尽管贝尔克罗夫特夫人对这个伟大的世界缺乏了解，但她对人性有相当多的了解，这对她来说非常有用。她没想到会被人嘲笑 优雅而且，尽管马沙姆夫人的戏谑看似合理，但她从未达到自己的目的，也从未因所有试图引诱她出来而引发任何真正荒谬的事情——她不会被引诱出来。然而，在一阵无法克制的沉默和所有愚蠢的外表之后，贝尔克罗夫特夫人突然显露出了生命的迹象，她突然开始说话——对所有人中的海伦！——为什么？——因为她已经采取了，她自己的话，对斯坦利小姐来说是一种可怕的幻想；她不确定自己的名字，但她知道自己喜欢自己的本性，遗憾的是，她的理由不应该被人知道，用她对塞西莉亚女士说的话来说，“现在我就告诉你为什么”我对你的朋友汉利小姐产生了极大的兴趣——”

“斯坦利小姐——请允许我提一下，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “我定期给你介绍一下吧。”

“哦！绝不是；现在别麻烦自己了，塞西莉亚女士，因为我讨厌定期的介绍。但是，正如我要告诉你的，今天晚饭前，当我走下大楼梯时，我有一个不寻常的大很大的，据我所知，黄色的瓶塞销，这是最粗心的。我所有粗心的女仆——也是个好女孩——都把我身上的某些部分留下了最重要的症结所在。汉利小姐——斯坦利（请原谅）在后面，幸运的是看到并停了下来。她把它拉了出来，请求我的原谅。也很友善，我只感觉到袖子上的抽搐，然后转过身来，并喜欢我第一眼看到那张漂亮脸蛋的感觉，我确信它永远不需要脸红，尽管它也很容易脸红。塞西莉亚女士，你知道，她是那么善良，在没有人注意的时候，在任何人都变得明智之前。不像一些年轻的女士，甚至年长的女士， 出现了一个，而不是帮助一个人解决任何困难。”

塞西莉亚夫人本人也受到贝尔克罗夫特夫人的青睐，因为她喜欢这种获胜的方式，并且看到那里也有真正的善良。她亲切地向两位朋友敞开心扉， 关于 一些人 爱 的蕾丝修剪。她是一位著名的蕾丝评判者，她详细介绍了自己的廉价商品，讲述了她在城市的尽头、在未知的地区以最高价格寻找廉价商品和闻所未闻的奇观的探险经历。她讲述了她如何巧妙地离开马车和她的女儿。 人，她自己走在狭窄的街道和小巷里，那里只有独轮手推车和她自己才能通行；她吹嘘自己潜入黑暗的巢穴寻找跑货的壮举，法国人保证，这些东西几乎可以一无所获，并举例说明了她绣花麻布手帕的精美程度，并告诉了它们的价格钱！

马沙姆女士的“太棒了！”值得任何曾经存在过的耶稣会男性或女性。

法律骑士夫人从她惊人的便宜货中走上了走私之路。当她兴致勃勃地大声说话时，她讲述了一些琥珀色的缎子，整件作品完美地融入了一位老绅士的“遗嘱和遗嘱”中，用红胶带绑得很好，密封并题字等等，完好无损地通过了！ “但我自己做了更好的事情，”她继续说道。 “我最后一次去巴黎旅行——回来后，我无视所有的搜索者和 刺伤者，以及两国海关官员。我藏了价值数百英镑的瓦朗谢讷和布鲁塞尔蕾丝——你永远猜不到藏在哪里。我从来没有告诉过仆人——甚至没有告诉过凡间的女仆；这是唯一的办法；只有一个车匠的红颜知己。但到了收拾行李的时候，我自己的女仆闻到花边不见了；我有信心通知海关人员对我进行搜查。这对我来说就更加荣耀了。我下车了；当他们刺伤坐垫，把我的马车内部撕成碎片时，我非常冷静地让他们自费修复恶作剧。哦，我喜欢勇敢地做事！我带着蕾丝胜利地开走了，蕾丝塞得很好，包装得很好，并覆盖在他们一直在搜查的马车的杆皮里。

在她叙述的这个时候，先生们走进了客厅。 “但是本杰明爵士来了！妈妈，妈妈！我的生命不再多说一句话！你明白的，塞西莉亚女士！丈夫必须有心思。让我低声帮个忙——我必须恳求一场惠斯特派对；没有什么比惠斯特更能让本爵士保持良好的幽默感了——我是说，当他获胜时。”

惠斯特派对开始了，塞西莉亚夫人确保本杰明爵士获胜，而她却以尽可能优雅的方式输掉了比赛。凭借她的和解态度和良好的分政管理，各方都得到了普遍满意的安排。哈利先生的反感， 附后，她与马沙姆夫人在 ecarté 定居，马沙姆夫人发现他“是一个很有礼貌、令人愉快的人”。塞西莉亚女士向哈利先生解释说，邀请这个人是她的错——完全是她的错误。哈雷先生现在又恢复了正常，他很高兴与达文南特夫人交谈，他在沙发上找到了自己的位置。

海伦完成了竖琴和钢琴演奏的任务后，塞西莉亚接替了她，并低声说她现在可以去她母亲的沙发上休息并快乐了。 “妈妈的工作有点令人困惑，海伦；你必须去纠正它，亲爱的。”达维南特夫人微笑着欢迎她，在沙发上给她腾出了位置，并将鼓架交给了她。现在海伦看到并听到哈利先生处于自然状态，她简直不敢相信他就是晚餐时坐在她旁边的那个人。他现在充满活力，令人愉快，而她特别喜欢他的一点是，他没有任何表现——完全没有丘吉尔的风格。每当有人走近，并且似乎想听或说话时，哈雷先生不仅给他们公平的比赛机会，而且还帮助他们比赛。海伦观察到，他拥有她经常在达维南特勋爵身上提到的艺术，这是善良天才所特有的艺术——从每个人身上汲取善良的艺术；有时，在取出之前，他们所知道的东西比他们知道的还要多。即便是马沙姆勋爵，虽然他像任何侍臣领主一样平淡无奇，但也能从中提取出一些东西：普遍认为他一无所有的马沙姆勋爵，今晚却出人意料地有趣。他向达文南夫人描述了他有幸看到的景象——法国国王复辟后的第一顿公开晚宴，按照所有的说法。 顺从 仪式和路易十四时代的礼仪。马沙姆勋爵以生动的方式描绘了德鲁侯爵，在他所有的古董荣耀中，完成了规定的整个形式：首先，用拐杖敲门；然后，用拐杖敲门。随后，三名手持卡宾枪的卫兵紧随其后，向巴特里和大厅行进，每一位内务官员在走向主殿时都恭敬地行礼。 毂-The 毂 正如马沙姆勋爵向斯坦利小姐解释的那样，它是一块船体形状的镀金板，里面存放着国王餐桌上的餐巾。 “但是为什么船体应该被用来做皇家餐巾呢？”被问。马沙姆勋爵承认这超出了他的能力范围，但他看上去出人意料地体贴——用右手的中指小心翼翼地摩擦着光亮的前额，然后看着他的戒指，慢慢地将它转了三次，但是护身符的动作没有产生任何效果，他谈话有了新的转折，他得到了及时的缓解，他认为，在这次谈话中，他没有被要求参与任何分享——这个问题在他看来确实无关紧要，然后退到牌桌上，他“把讨论留给了更有能力的头脑。”

问题是，为什么要向涅夫鞠躬？——这引发了对仪式在保持对秩序的尊重和对权威的敬畏方面的优势的讨论，然后对这种真正的善的滥用进行了调查。有人指出，应该始终参考时代的迹象，并在这些事情上指导我们。——还有多远？接下来要考虑的。所有人都同意“秩序为天律”这一原则，但参与谈话的人在应用上却存在着巨大的分歧。一方面，人们认为推翻 凳子 在法国宫廷，这是推翻王位的信号。另一方面，有人认为，严格遵守不适合时代气质的形式只会激怒人们，而且只要隐含着对形式的依赖，就很容易导致君主及其谋士过度依赖形式。栅栏的力量只存在于想象中，当时尚发生变化时，栅栏就变得无能为力。在一个被陈旧形式包围的宫廷里，白天的光线无法透入宫殿内部，长期处于朦胧状态的眼睛减弱了，以至于无法承受光线：当突然闯入时，皇家俘虏就被困住了。感到困惑，如果被迫采取行动，他会摸索、犯错、伤害自己，在极端危险的情况下无法做出决定，沦落到东方暴君的无助状态，或者 费内安王 任何时间或国家。

当海伦坐在旁边听着这次谈话时，最让她震惊和感兴趣的是，尽管双方意见分歧，但谈话的进行和结束方式没有导致任何不愉快的后果。她所看到的这一点在很大程度上取决于良好的判断力和才能，但更取决于那些说话者和倾听者的良好教养和脾气。首先，每个人都需要时间来理解，没有人会因为感叹、误解或矛盾而被迫说出自己所想的内容。

现在加入队伍的塞西莉亚夫人听到提到路易十四对守时的喜爱，感到有点痛苦。她担心，当将军引用“守时是王子的美德”时，哈雷先生会带着天才惯有的不耐烦，嘲笑如此过时的观念；但是，令塞西莉亚夫人惊讶的是，他甚至扮演了守时的角色：他以一种非常有启发性的方式将其与纯粹的礼仪礼仪区分开来——德国宫廷的礼仪，在那里“他们在早餐、晚餐、晚餐上浪费时间；在法庭上，在前厅里，在楼梯上，在任何地方：”——他认为，守时是一种值得与美德并列的习惯，因为它对思想的影响，它要求和赋予自我控制的力量，提高了自我控制的能力。我们每天、每时每刻都有一种责任感，一种应该做、必须做的事情，这是人类可以拥有的最好习惯之一，无论是为了自己，还是为了与他们一起生活的人。尤其是对国王和朝臣来说，因为它赋予了稳定和持续的概念；对于老年人来说，因为它给人一种生命将永远持续的信念。将军经常这么想，但他说他从来没有听过这么清楚地表达过。他后来向塞西莉亚承认，他发现哈利先生与他想象中的完全不同——“他有很好的判断力，还有天赋和良好的教养。我很高兴，亲爱的塞西莉亚，你邀请他来这里。”这是一次伟大的胜利。

傍晚时分，当人们开始想到卧室里的蜡烛时，塞西莉亚夫人看着 埃卡特 ”她对妈妈说：“他们多幸福，我们多舒服啊！牌桌确实是生活的必需品——甚至音乐也没有比它更普遍有用的了。”哈雷先生说：“我怀疑。”然后达维南特夫人和他之间就音乐和纸牌在现代社会中的相对力量发生了争论。哈雷先生站在音乐一边，但达维南特夫人倾向于认为，纸牌在他们那个时代，而且他们的时代还没有结束，已经产生了更广泛的影响。 “没有什么比那块快乐的绿布板更好的了；它将所有智力提升到一个水平，”她说。哈雷先生为音乐事业辩护，他说音乐可以平息所有激情，甚至平息绝望。达维南特夫人主张纸牌的无声优势，它可以让疲惫的谈话者休息，让困惑的廷臣解脱，为了支持她的观点，她提到了一篇关于纸牌和茶的巧妙的古老文章，她认为是平托写的；她恳求海伦花点时间去图书馆找找。海伦立刻就走了。她寻找，却找不到；它应该在的地方，它当然不在那里。当她还在书梯上时，门开了，贝尔克罗夫特夫人走了进来。

“汉莉小姐！”她喊道：“我有一句话要对你说，虽然你对我来说是个陌生人，但我看到你是一个可爱的好人，我想我可以冒昧地在一件小事上征求你的意见。”

海伦此时已经从台阶上下来，站了起来，看上去有点惊讶，但说的话都很礼貌，“对贝尔克罗夫特夫人的好意见感到满意——很高兴为您提供任何服务，”——等等。 ＆C。

“好吧，那么——请马上坐下，汉利小姐。”

海伦建议她的名字叫斯坦利。

“斯坦利！——呃？——是的，我记得。但我想咨询一下你，因为你这么好心地允许我就一件小事——但是请坐下来，我从来不能站着谈论正事。现在我只想让你，我亲爱的汉利小姐，为我和达文南特夫人做点小事，她是你的好朋友。——我说得对吗？

海伦说达维南特夫人确实是她的一位非常友善的朋友，但她仍然无法想象贝尔克罗夫特夫人会期望她的帮助。

“你不必对“工作”这个词感到害怕；如果这就是让你惊慌的原因，”贝尔克罗夫特夫人继续说道，“放心吧，这里没有那样的事情。这只是我想做的一个赞美，世界上没有任何东西期望得到回报——因为它本身就是一种回报。但首先看看这个封面。”她拿出一封信的信封。 “你认为这是达维南特夫人的笔迹吗？”她指着“误发送，”写在封面的一角。海伦说这是达文南特夫人写的。 “你确定吗？——嗯，这很奇怪！——发送错误！当它是针对她自己，而不是地球上的其他人时，正如你所看到的尽可能简单的那样——达文南特伯爵夫人，这肯定足够正确吗？然后，她打开一个红色摩洛哥表壳，展示了一颗华丽的塞维涅钻石。 “现在观察一下，”她继续说道，“这些钻石是如此之大，我亲爱的汉利小姐——斯坦利，如果不是法国晚期的发明，它们是我够不到的，也许你可能没有听说过，也不应该听说过。我，要不是巴黎一位从事珠宝行业的朋友的提示。你必须知道，法国人掌握了将小钻石粘在一起的艺术，以便将无价值的小钻石变成大钻石，这样，正如你所看到的，你永远无法分辨出差异；因为这是一个新发现，而且是巧妙和科学的东西，而且据报道达文南特女士是一位科学女士，而且具有政治影响力，所有这些，我认为这是一个很好的机会，也是付钱给她的好借口这是我一直想表达的赞美，因为她曾经对本爵士非常友善，并把他任命到了现在的职位。虽然表面上是达维南特勋爵，但我认为她才是幕后的主要推动者。因此，我坐下来，尽可能地写了一张漂亮的便条，本先生对整件事表示认可；但我并不是说我确信他在这件事上和我一样不拘一格、心地纯洁，因为在你我之间，他的感激之情，正如人们所说的某些人的感激之情，很容易眯起一只眼睛面向未来，也面向过去——你明白吗？”

海伦不清楚她是否理解了所说的一切。她更不知道在这件事上她必须做什么。她等待进一步的解释。

“现在我想从你这里得到的一切，汉利小姐——斯坦利，我会说，请原谅，我是最不擅长使用专有名词的人——但我想要从你那里得到的一切，汉利小姐，是——首先，你对笔迹的有效性——好吧，那么你肯定，这 误发 是她的手。现在，我想知道，你认为达维南特女士写这本书时知道自己在写什么吗？”

海伦一想到有人质疑达维南特夫人知道她在做什么，她的眼睛就睁得大大的。

“啦！亲爱的，”贝尔克罗夫特夫人说道。 “饶了你的白眼吧，我并不是说她不知道自己在做什么。 这 感觉。”

“什么意义？”海伦说。

“没有任何特殊意义，”贝尔克罗夫特夫人回答道。 “但是让我继续说下去，否则我们永远不会达成共识；我的意思只是说，夫人可能只是坐下来回答我的留言，就像我自己经常做的那样，而没有读完全文，或者在我完全理解之前。海伦认为这种事不太可能发生在达维南特夫人身上。

“但仍有可能发生这样的情况，”贝尔克罗夫特夫人继续说道，“她的夫人没有注意到这件事的微妙之处。 放——因为它确实是为了让任何人都无法利用它来对抗我们中的任何人——你明白的；毕竟，像塞维涅这样的好奇心，以及如此精美的“钻石”，太漂亮了，太好了，不能以这种方式直接拒绝。此外，我的便条如此受人尊敬，令人尊敬，我认为，它肯定需要并且要求更多的答案，我认为，来自出生或受过教育的人，而不是像邮递员一样的“误寄”这个简单的词！当然，汉利小姐，现在，抛开你们的友谊不谈，坦白说，你一定和我一样想吧？而且，无论是否，至少你会非常乐意帮我一个忙，让我从达文南特女士那里知道她是否真的睁着眼睛做出了回答，并且真的是她所说的。”

海伦很清楚，达维南特夫人总是言出必行，而且是睁着眼睛写的，因此拒绝了提出的询问，因为她认为完全没有用处。很明显，达维南特夫人认为接受这份礼物并不合适，为了避免任何不愉快的解释，她认为这不是给她的，而是错误地送来的。海伦劝她息事宁人。

“好吧！”贝尔克罗夫特夫人说：“无论如何，谢谢你，汉利小姐，你的好建议。但是，不管有没有，我很容易把我曾经想到的一切都经历一遍，而且，既然你无法帮助和怂恿，我不会再麻烦你了，只是不再对我提到的事情说一个字。但我一直感谢你，我亲爱的年轻女士，就像我接受了你的格言一样。所以，我亲爱的汉利小姐——斯坦利——不要让我再打扰你找书了。不过，请照顾好那个梯子；这是 科格莱迪，正如我在你下来时观察到的那样——晚安，晚安。”

“亲爱的海伦，一切都会有结束！”第二天，塞西莉亚夫人冲进海伦的房间，惊愕地站在她面前，大声喊道。 “我不知道是什么让事情发展到如此悲惨的地步，”她继续说道，“因为，就在一个小时之前，我让每个人都心情愉快——一切都井井有条。但现在 - ”

“什么？”海伦说：“因为你根本没有告诉我发生了什么事。”

“因为我自己一点也不了解，亲爱的。我只知道，出了什么问题，太糟糕了！在我母亲和贝尔克罗夫特夫人之间。妈妈不肯告诉我那是什么；但她的愤慨如此之高，她宣称她不会看到这一点 女人， 再次：——只要贝尔克罗夫特夫人还留在房子里，她就肯定不会从她的房间里出来。所以我们彻底分手了——我希望我从来没有插手过任何事情。哦，但愿我从来没有把这些不合适、这些不相容的事情放在一起！哦，海伦！我该怎么办？”

塞西莉亚女士脸色苍白地站着，内心十分绝望。海伦不知道该提出什么建议。

“你知道这件事吗，海伦，因为你看起来好像知道吗？”

一阵突然的敲门声打断了他们，没等允许，贝尔克罗夫特夫人就进来了，她就像被狂风吹过一样，脸色涨得通红：半是生气，半是害怕，然后大笑起来，她喊道：“好极了！” 令人难以置信的， 我已经做到了！”但看到塞西莉亚女士，她突然停了下来——“请原谅——汉利小姐，我以为你是一个人呢。”

塞西莉亚女士立刻提出要告退，但当她走向门口时，却暗示她希望留下来，如果不太过分的话，她想问一下这是什么意思——

“通过 令人难以置信的， 你的意思是？”贝尔克罗夫特夫人说。 “我知道这不是一个规范的词——我的意思是古典；也许在任何字典中都没有——但当人们热情时，他们就无法忍受挑选术语。”

“当然不是，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “可是到底是怎么回事呢？发生了任何不愉快的事情，我感到很抱歉。”

“确实不愉快！”贝尔克罗夫特夫人喊道； “我实际上被当作一只狗来对待，同时也给予了赞美，而且是非常漂亮的赞美，毫无矛盾。塞西莉亚女士，你自己判断一下，这个塞维涅是否是 打喷嚏？“

她打开了箱子；塞西莉亚女士说钻石确实很漂亮，但是——

“但！”贝尔克罗夫特夫人重复道：“我同意你，生活中的一切都可能有一个但是；尽管如此，塞西莉亚女士，你还是可以说得有礼貌，就像你说的那样，或者看起来很礼貌，就像你看起来的那样，汉利小姐：如果这样做了，我就不会被冒犯，毕竟我可能会很乐意把钱装进口袋我的钻石；但没有人会毫不内疚地接受侮辱。”

塞西莉亚夫人确信她母亲不会有任何冒犯的意思。

“哦，我不知道她的意思是什么，不是什么意思；但我会告诉你她做了什么——几乎把钻石扔到了我脸上。”

“不可能的！”海伦喊道。

“有可能——我会告诉你怎么做，汉利小姐。这样：只要关上箱子——啪！——然后她把它扔到桌子对面，就像你热情地发牌一样，只是带着西登斯夫人的架势。两位女士，请原谅你们模仿你们的朋友和父母，但是血肉之躯无法忍受这种风格，你知道，一点点有益的模仿不会伤到骨头，也不会很令人反感，我希望？这种模仿确实不会太令人反感，因为模仿与现实完全不同，塞西莉亚女士和海伦都很难压抑自己的笑容。 “女士们可能会微笑，但如果她们像我一样受到如此可耻的对待，她们就会在她们漂亮的小嘴的错误一侧微笑。我确信我希望当初采纳了你的建议，汉利小姐；但事实是，昨晚我不太相信你：我以为你只是尽你所能地激怒朋友；因为，自从我跻身伟人之列，甚至当我与小人物生活在一起时，我就遇到过许多假面容的美丽复制品，以至于我不禁怀疑您的达维南特夫人可能有这种情况，但我完全相信你告诉我的一切都是真的，因为我近距离地偷看她，掀起兜帽，发现里面不是两张脸——只有一张对我的痛苦感到非常愤怒的脸。但我声明，我宁愿看到那个，也不愿看到双重的，就像我的马沙姆夫人的，带着鲸蜡般的微笑。毕竟，你知道吗？”贝尔克罗夫特夫人用一种粗俗而亲切的语气继续说道——“你现在知道吗，真的，第一次愤怒结束了，我喜欢达文南特夫人——我抗议并发誓，甚至她的骄傲我也喜欢——它很适合她——出生和一切，因为我听说她是查理曼大帝的直接后代！但现在我想起来了，我本来想提一下，当我开始向本爵士夫人讲述她为他获得这个职位的感激之情时，她用她奇怪的表情打断了我，并说她确信达文南特勋爵（如果他是国王本人，而不仅仅是她的丈夫和你的父亲塞西莉亚女士，她就不可能以更加区别的方式发音他的名字）——她说，她确信达文南特勋爵不会如果本杰明·贝尔克罗夫特爵士认识任何更配得上这个职位的人，他在为他获得这个位置的过程中发挥了重要作用，事实上，我当时并不认为这超出了民事的范围——那么，对本爵士的特别赞美在哪里呢？

但是，当贝尔克罗夫特夫人看到塞西莉亚夫人对她母亲的愤怒决定感到焦虑和真正的痛苦时，她出人意料地幽默地说：“亲爱的，我希望我能为你解决这件事。我不能直接离开，这将是最好的举动，因为本杰明爵士今天在这里与达文南勋爵有事——他自己的一些工作，必须取代我的任何行动，他是更有价值的性别。但我会告诉你我能做什么，我会做什么，并且欢迎你。我会保留我的房间，而不是你妈妈保留她的房间；这样你就可以跑去告诉达维南特夫人，她是一名在逃囚犯，整个房子的范围都在她的范围之内，没有任何遇见我的危险，因为我不会动，直到明天早上马车到达门口，那时她不会起床，因为我们六点钟就到了。我会告诉本杰明爵士，他急着回城，而且一直都是。所以对我来说一切都很好。你去找你的母亲，我亲爱的塞西莉亚夫人，安顿她。我很高兴再次看到你的笑容；遗憾的是你不应该做任何其他事情。”没过多久，塞西莉亚回来了，高声喊道：“和平，和平！”她向她母亲报告了贝尔克罗夫特夫人说过的话、做过的事以及打算做的一切，达文南特夫人情不自禁地以可笑的眼光看待这一切，立刻觉得这不值得她认真注意，并且把愤怒浪费在这样的人身上是不合适的。结果是，她委托海伦在方便的时候尽快释放贝尔克罗夫特夫人，并通知她整个交易都被忽略了。

下了一场阵雨，现在天已经放晴了。塞西莉亚女士觉得天空看起来更蓝了，鸟儿的歌声更甜美了，空气也比暴风雨前更宜人了。 “没有什么比暴风雨更能净化空气了，”她说。没有什么比一场诚实的飓风更好的了。但对于马沙姆女士来说，从来没有像一点诚实的飓风那样的事情。一切都很安静，很近，有一种难以形容的火山般的感觉；人们不确定自己所站在的是什么。你知道吗，海伦，”她继续说道，“我很担心妈妈和马沙姆夫人之间会发生什么冲突。如果我们在她身上遇到任何困难，我们也无法像贝尔克罗夫特夫人那样顺利摆脱困境，因为她没有内心的资源或坦率的感情。在我们共进晚餐之前，我必须听听妈妈的声音，看看一切是否还算安全。”那天，当她按照她的惯例，在更衣时间带着一束花去送给她的母亲时，她也带着海伦一起去。

当塞西莉亚夫人第一次担心马沙姆夫人会对她做任何恶作剧时，达维南特夫人轻蔑地笑了。 “亲爱的，她可能有这个意愿，但她没有这个能力。”

“可以肯定的是，她非常愚蠢，”塞西莉亚女士说。 “她仍然可能会恶作剧，而且她的笑容里有一种可怕的奸诈。”

“太可怕了！”达维南特夫人重复道。 “不，不，亲爱的塞西莉亚；没什么可怕的。把对宫廷培育的怪物的庸俗信仰留给贝尔克罗夫特夫人吧；我们知道不存在这样的事情。那里的男人和女人，和其他地方一样，都是自然、教育和环境造就的。一旦一个时代，每六个时代一次，大自然可能会创造出布林维利耶（Brinvilliers），或者艺术允许创造泽卢科（Zeluco）；但总的来说，怪物只是神话般的生物——经常会因为糟糕的图画而犯错误，比如独角兽。”

“是的，妈妈，是的；现在我感觉舒服多了。独角兽让我信服了。”塞西莉亚女士边唱边笑着说道

“这只是一个寓言；没什么好害怕的。

“从今往后，我对她的看法就只是她看上去的样子，一位衣着考究、有教养的漂亮女士。哎——真是一位美丽的女士；每一句话、每一个眼神、每一个动作、每一个想法，都与之相适应 行业设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“那个职业，”达维南特夫人说。 “它高于交易；对她来说，保持健康确实是一项神圣的义务，而不仅仅是一种乐趣。她是一位一流的女士。她的举止并没有太专业——没有明显的矫揉造作，因为她的矫揉造作很早就养成了习惯，以至于已经成为第二天性，几乎与真实的人没有区别——一切都很轻松。

“就是这样，妈妈；和她相处起来很容易。”

“我观察到，一种奇怪的幻觉，”达维南特夫人继续说道，“每个结识像马沙姆夫人这样的人的人都会产生这种幻觉；也许是她所过的跑步机生活的某种感觉传达给了与她交谈的人；这让你觉得自己总是在进步，但你永远不会超越某个点。”

“这正是我的感受，”海伦说，“当马沙姆女士说话时，或者当她倾听时，我几乎想知道如果没有我，她是如何存在的。”

“是的，尽管人们知道这一切都是幻觉，”塞西莉亚女士说道，“但人们仍然很高兴，因为她一直都知道她根本不可能关心一个人；但人们并不期望每个人都真正关心自己；至少我知道我不能像爱我的朋友那样爱我所有的熟人，更不能像爱我自己一样爱我所有的邻居——”

“来来！塞西莉亚！”她妈妈说。

“‘来吧，来吧！’妈妈的意思是，塞西莉亚，别再往前走了。”她转向海伦说道。 “但是现在，妈妈，我不清楚你是否真的认为她是你的朋友还是你的敌人，是否愿意对你进行恶作剧。我想这可能是出于她的兴趣，也可能不是。”

“就像它是否流行一样，”达文南特女士说。 “我记得听到老太太——她是上个世纪最聪明的女人之一，见识过很多世界，她说，‘如果流行烧死我，而我被绑在火刑柱上，我几乎不知道十个我认识的人都拒绝加入同性恋。”

“噢，妈妈！——噢，达文南特女士！”海伦和塞西莉亚惊呼。

“这是一种强有力的表达方式，”达维南特夫人笑着说：“但是，我向你保证，时尚对像马沙姆夫人这样的软弱思想的影响力，比党派或利益更大。既然你不喜欢我用火画的插图，那就拿一张用水画的——她只是一个和她一起出去玩的人，在夏日海面光滑的表面上，参加一场快乐的聚会，如果下一场小雨，那就可惜了真诚地，你的帽子，但如果发生严重的暴风雨，一切都将处于危险之中——”

“Then, of course, every body would take care of themselves,” interrupted Lady Cecilia, “excepting such a simpleton as Helen, who would take care of you first, mamma, of me next and of herself last.”

“I believe it—I do believe it,” cried Lady Davenant, and, her eyes and thoughts fixing upon Helen, she quite forgot what further she was going to say of Lady Masham.

The perfectly unimpassioned tone, in which her mother had discussed this lady’s character, even the candour, convinced Lady Cecilia as well as Helen, that nothing further could be done as to drawing them together. No condescension of manner, no conciliation, could be expected from Lady Davenant towards Lady Masham, but at the same time there was no fear of any rupture. And to this humble consolation was Lady Cecilia brought. She told Helen that she gave up all hope of doing any good, she would now be quite content if she avoided doing harm, and if this visit ended without coming to any further outrage on the part of Lady Bearcroft, and without her mother’s being guilty of contempt to Lady Masham. She had done some little service, however, with respect to the ambassadress, and her mother knew it. It was well known that the ambassadress governed the ambassador, and Lady Cecilia had quite won her heart, “so that he will be assuredly a friend to papa. Indeed, this has been almost promised. Madame l’Ambassadrice assured me that her husband looks upon Lord Davenant as one of the first sages of England, that is to say, of Europe; and she says he is well acquainted with all Lord Davenant’s works—and it is my belief,” concluded Lady Cecilia, “that all Sir William Davenant’s works go with her to papa’s credit, for as she spoke she gave a polite glance towards the bookcase where she saw their gilded backs, and I found the ambassador himself, afterwards, with ‘Davenant on Trade’ in his hand! Be it so: it is not, after all, you know, robbing the dead, only inheriting by mistake from a namesake, which with foreigners is allowable, because impossible to avoid, from the time of ‘Monsieur Robinson parent apparemment de Monsieur Crusoe?’’ to the present day.”

By dint of keeping well asunder those who would not draw well together, Lady Cecilia did contrive to get through the remaining morning of this operose visit; some she sent out to drive with gallant military outriders to see places in the neighbourhood famed for this or that; others walked or boated, or went through the customary course of conservatories, pheasantry, flower-garden, pleasure-grounds, and best views of Clarendon Park—and billiards always. The political conferences were held in Lord Davenant’s apartment: to what these conferences tended we never knew and never shall; we consider them as matters of history, and leave them with due deference to the historian; we have to do only with biography. Far be it from us to meddle with politics—we have quite enough to do with manners and morality.

The next day, as Helen was going across the hall, she saw the members of the last political conclave coming out of Lord Davenant’s room, each looking as if the pope had not been chosen according to his wish—dark and disappointed; even Mr. Harley’s radiant countenance was dimmed, and the dry symptomatic cough which he gave after taking leave of Lady Davenant, convinced Helen that all was not well within. He departed, and there seemed to be among those who remained a greater constraint than ever. There appeared to be in each an awakened sense that there were points on which they could never agree; all seemed to feel how different it would have been if Mr. Harley had remained. True, the absence or presence of a person of genius makes as much difference in the whole appearance of things, as sunshine or no sunshine on the landscape.

Dinner, however, was got through, for time and the hour, two hours, or three, will get through the roughest dinner or the smoothest. “Never saw a difficult dinner-party better bothered!” was Lady Bearcroft’s compliment, whispered to Cecilia as they went into the drawing-room; and Helen, notwithstanding Lady Bearcroft’s vulgarity, could not help beginning absolutely to like her for her good nature and amazingly prompt sympathy; but, after all, good nature without good manners is but a blundering ally, dangerous to its best friend.

This evening, Lady Cecilia felt that every one was uncomfortable, and, flitting about the room, she touched here and there to see how things were going on. They were not going on well, and she could not make them better; even her efforts at conciliation were ineffectual; she had stepped in between her mother, some of the gentlemen, and the general, in an argument in which she heard indications of strife, and she set about to explain away contradictions, and to convince every body that they were really all of the same opinion. With her sweet voice and pretty persuasive look, this might have done for the general, as a relaxing smile seemed to promise; but it would not do at all with Lady Davenant, who, from feelings foreign to the present matter, was irritated, and spoke, as Helen thought, too harshly:—“Cecilia, you would act Harmony in the comedy to perfection; but, unfortunately, I am not one of those persons who can be persuaded that when I say one thing I mean quite another—probably because it is not my practice so to do. That old epigram, Sir Benjamin, do you know it,” continued she, “which begins with a bankrupt’s roguish ‘Whereas?’

“Whereas the religion and fate of three nations
Depend on th’ importance of our conversations:
Whereas some objections are thrown in our way,
And words have been construed to mean what they say,—
Be it known from henceforth to each friend and each brother,
When’er we say one thing we mean quite another.”

Sir Benjamin gravely remarked that it was good law practice. The courts themselves would be shut up if some such doctrine were not understood in the practice there, subaudito, if not publicly proclaimed with an absolute “Whereas be it known from henceforth.” Whether this was dry humour of Sir Benjamin’s, or plain matter of fact and serious opinion, the gravity with which it was delivered indicated not; but it produced the good effect of a smile, a laugh, at him or with him. Lady Cecilia did not care which, the laugh was good at all events; her invincible good-nature and sweetness of temper had not been soured or conquered even by her mother’s severity; and Lady Davenant, observing this, forgave and wished to be forgiven.

“My dearest Cecilia,” said she, “clasp this bracelet for me, will you? It would really be a national blessing, if, in the present times, all women were as amiable as you,

‘Fond to spread friendships, but to cover heats.’”

Then, turning to a French gentleman, she spoke of the change she had observed when she was last at Paris, from the overwhelming violence of party spirit on all sides.

“Dreadfully true,” the French gentleman replied—“party spirit, taking every Proteus form, calling itself by a hundred names and with a thousand devices and watchwords, which would be too ridiculous, if they were not too terrible—domestic happiness destroyed, all society disordered, disorganised—literature not able to support herself, scarcely appearing in company—all precluded, superseded by the politics of the day.”

Lady Davenant joined with him in his regrets, and added, that she feared society in England would soon be brought to the same condition.

“No,” said the French gentleman, “English ladies will never be so vehement as my countrywomen; they will never become, I hope, like some of our lady politicians, ‘qui heurlent comme des demons'”。

Lady Cecilia said that, from what she had seen at Paris, she was persuaded that if the ladies did bawl too loud it was because the gentlemen did not listen to them; that above half the party-violence which appeared in Parisian belles was merely dramatic, to produce a sensation, and draw the gentlemen, from the black pelotons in which they gathered, back to their proper positions round the 扶手椅 of the fair ladies.

The foreigner, speaking to what he saw passing in Lady Davenant’s mind, went on;—“Ladies can do much, however, in this as in all other dilemmas where their power is, and ought to be, omnipotent.”

“女性 影响 is and ought to be 有力的” said the general, with an emphasis on influence, contradistinguishing it from power, and reducing the exaggeration of omnipotent by the short process of lopping off two syllables.

“So long as ladies keep in their own proper character,” said Lady Davenant, “all is well; but, if once they cease to act as women, that instant they lose their privilege—their charm: they forfeit their exorcising power; they can no longer command the demon of party nor themselves, and he transforms them directly, as you say,” said she to the French gentleman, “into actual furies.”

“And, when so transformed, sometimes unconscious of their state,” said the general, drily, his eye glancing towards the other end of the room, and lighting upon Lady Bearcroft, who was at the instant very red and very loud; and Lady Cecilia was standing, as if watchful for a moment’s pause, in which to interpose her word of peace. She waited for some time in vain, for when she hastened from the other end of the room to this—the scene of action, things had come to such a pass between the ladies Masham and Bearcroft, that mischief, serious mischief, must have ensued, had not Lady Cecilia, at utmost need, summoned to her aid the happy genius of Nonsense—the genius of Nonsense, in whose elfin power even Love delights; on whom Reason herself condescends often to smile, even when Logic frowns, and chops him on his block: but cut in twain, the ethereal spirit soon unites again, and lives, and laughs. But mark him well—this little happy genius of Nonsense; see that he be the true thing—the genuine spirit. You will know him by his well-bred air and tone, which none can counterfeit; and by his smile; for while most he makes others laugh, the arch little rogue seldom goes beyond a smile himself! Graceful in the midst of all his pranks, he never goes too far—though far enough he has been known to go—he has crept into the armour of the great hero, convulsed the senate in the wig of a chancellor, and becomingly, decorously, put on now and then the mitre of an archbishop. “If good people,” said Archbishop Usher, “would but make goodness agreeable, and smile, instead of frowning in their virtue, how many they would win to the good cause!” Lady Cecilia in this was good at need, and at her utmost need, obedient to her call, came this happy little genius, and brought with him song and dance, riddle and charade, and comic prints; and on a half-opened parcel of books Cecilia darted, and produced a Comic Annual, illustrated by him whom no risible muscles can resist. All smiled who understood, and mirth admitted of her crew all who smiled, and party-spirit fled. But there were foreigners present. Foreigners cannot well understand our local allusions; our Cruikshank is to them unintelligible, and Hood’s “Sorrows of Number One” quite lost upon them. Then Lady Bearcroft thought she would do as much as Lady Cecilia, and more—that she would produce what these poor foreigners could comprehend. But not at her call came the genius of lively nonsense, he heard her not. In his stead came that counterfeit, who thinks it witty to be rude:

“And placing raillery in railing,
Will tell aloud your greatest failing—“

that vulgar imp yclept Fun—known by his broad grin, by his loud tone, and by his rude banter. Head foremost forcing himself in, came he, and brought with him a heap of coarse caricatures, and they were party caricatures.

“Capital!” Lady Bearcroft, however, pronounced them, as she spread all upon the table for applause—but no applause ensued.

Not such, these, as real good English humour produces and enjoys, independently of party—these were all too broad, too coarse. Lady Davenant despised, the general detested. Helen turned away, and Lady Cecilia threw them under the table, that they might not be seen by the foreigners. “For the honour of England, do not let them be spread abroad, pray, Lady Bearcroft.”

“The world is grown mighty nice!” said Lady Bearcroft; “for my part, give me a good laugh when it is to be had.”

“Perhaps we shall find one here,” said Lady Cecilia, opening a portfolio of caricatures in a different style, but they were old, and Lady Bearcroft would have thrown them aside; but Lord Davenant observed that, if they have lasted so long,—they must be good, because their humour only can ensure their permanence; the personality dies with the person: for instance, in the famous old print of the minister rat-catcher, in the Westminster election, the likeness to each rat of the day is lost to us, but the ridicule on placemen ratters remains. The whole, however, is perfectly incomprehensible to foreigners. “Rats! rat!” repeated one of the foreigners, as he looked at and studied the print. It was amusing to see the gravity with which this foreign diplomatist, quite new to England, listened to Lady Bearcroft’s explanation of what is meant in English by a rat political. She was at first rather good on this topic, professing a supernatural acuteness of the senses, arising from an unconquerable antipathy, born with her, to the whole race of 大鼠. She declared that she could see a rat a mile off in any man—could, from the moment a man opened his mouth in parliament, or on the hustings, prophesy whether he would turn into a rat at last, or not. She, moreover, understood the language of rats of every degree, and knew even when they said “No,” that they meant “Yes,”—two monosyllables, the test of rats, which betray them all sooner or later, and transform the biped into the quadruped, who then turns tail, and runs always to the other side, from whatever side he may be of.

临时代办 stood in half bow, lending deferential ear and serious attention the whole time of this lecture upon rats, without being able from beginning to end to compass its meaning, and at the close, with a disconsolate shrug, he exclaimed, “Ah! Je renonce à ça——”

Lady Bearcroft went on—“Since I cannot make your excellency understand by description what I mean by an English rat-political, I must give you an example or two, dead and living—living best, and I have more than one noted and branded rat in my eye.”

But Lady Cecilia, anxious to interrupt this perilous business, hastily rang for wine and water; and as the gentlemen went to help themselves she gave them a general toast, as sitting down to the piano-forte, to the tune of—“Here’s to the maiden of blushing fifteen”—

She sang—

“Here’s to rats and ratcatchers of every degree,
The rat that is trapped, and the rat that is free,
The rat that is shy, sir, the rat that is bold, sir,
The rat upon sale, sir, the rat that is sold, sir.
Let the rats rat! Success to them all,
And well off to the old ones before the house fall!”

Sir Benjamin and Lady Bearcroft departed at six o’clock the next morning, and all the rest of the political and diplomatic corps 左 immediately after breakfast.

Lady Davenant looked relieved, the general satisfied, and Lady Cecilia consoled herself with the hope that, if she had done no good, she had not done any harm. This was a bad slide, perhaps, in the magic lantern, but would leave no trace behind. She began now to be very impatient for Beauclerc’s appearance; always sanguine, and as rapid in her conclusions as she was precipitate in her actions, she felt no doubt, no anxiety, as to the future; for, though she refrained from questioning Helen as to her sentiments for Beauclerc, she was pretty well satisfied on that subject. Helen was particularly grateful to Lady Cecilia for this forbearance, being almost ashamed to own, even to herself, how exceedingly happy she felt; and now that it was no longer wrong in her to love, or dishonourable in him to wish to be loved, she was surprised to find how completely the idea of Beauclerc was connected with and interwoven through all her thoughts, pursuits, and sentiments. He had certainly been constantly in her company for several months, a whole summer, but she could scarcely believe that during this time he could have become so necessary to her happiness. While, with still increasing agitation, she looked forward to his arrival, she felt as if Lady Davenant’s presence was a sort of protection, a something to rely on, in the new circumstances in which she was to be placed. Lord Davenant had returned to town, but Lady Davenant remained. The Russian embassy seemed still in abeyance.

One morning as Helen was sitting in Lady Davenant’s room alone with her, she said suddenly: “At your age, Helen, I had as little taste for what are called politics as you have, yet you see what I am come to, and by the same road you may, you will, arrive at the same point.”

“I! oh, I hope not!” cried Helen, almost before she felt the whole inference that might be drawn from this exclamation.

“You hope not?” repeated her ladyship calmly. “Let us consider this matter rationally, and put our hopes, and our fears, and our prejudices out of the question, if possible. Let me observe to you, that the position of women in society is somewhat different from what it was a hundred years ago, or as it was sixty, or I will say thirty years since. Women are now so highly cultivated, and political subjects are at present of so much importance, of such high interest, to all human creatures who live together in society, you can hardly expect, Helen, that you, as a rational being, can go through the world as it now is, without forming any opinion on points of public importance. You cannot, I conceive, satisfy yourself with the common namby-pamby little missy phrase, ‘ladies have nothing to do with politics.’”

Helen blushed, for she was conscious that, wrong or right, namby-pamby, little missy, or not, she had hitherto satisfied herself very comfortably with some such thought.

“Depend upon it, Helen,” resumed Lady Davenant, “that when you are married, your love for a man of superior abilities, and of superior character, must elevate your mind to sympathy with all his pursuits, with all the subjects which claim his attention.”

Helen felt that she must become strongly interested in every subject in which the man she loved was interested; but still she observed that she had not abilities or information, like Lady Davenant’s, that could justify her in attempting to follow her example. Besides, Helen was sure that, even if she had, it would not suit her taste; and besides, in truth, she did not think it well suited to a woman—she stopped when she came to that last thought. But what kindness and respect suppressed was clearly understood by her penetrating friend. Fixing her eyes upon Helen, she said with a smile, the candour and nobleness of her character rising above all little irritation of temper.

“I agree with you, my dear Helen, in all you do 不能 say, and were I to begin life over again, my conduct should in some respects be different. Of the public dangers and private personal inconveniences that may result from women becoming politicians, or, as you better express our meaning interfering, with public affairs, no one can be more aware than I am. 干扰, observe I say, for I would mark and keep the line between influence and interference. Female influence must, will, and ought to exist on political subjects as on all others; but this influence should always be domestic, not public—the customs of society have so ruled it. Of the thorns in the path of ambitious men all moralists talk, but there are little, scarcely visible, thorns of a peculiar sort that beset the path of an ambitious woman, the venomous prickles of the domestic bramble, a plant not perhaps mentioned in Withering’s Botany, or the Hortus Kewensis, but it is too well known to many, and to me it has been sorely known.”

At this instant General Clarendon came in with some letters, which had been forwarded to him express. One, for Lady Davenant, he had been desired to put into her hands himself: he retired, and Lady Davenant opened the letter. By the first glance at her countenance, Helen saw that there was something in it which had surprised and given her great concern. Helen withdrew her eyes, and waited till she should speak. But Lady Davenant was quite silent, and Helen, looking at her again, saw her put her hand to her heart, as if from some sudden sense of violent bodily pain, and she sank on the sofa, fell back, and became as pale as death and motionless. Excessively frightened, Helen threw open the window, rang the bell for Lady Davenant’s own woman, and sent the page for Lady Cecilia. In a few moments Lady Cecilia and Elliott came. Neither was as much alarmed as Helen had expected they would be. They had seen Lady Davenant, under similar attacks—they knew what remedies to apply. Elliott was a remarkably composed, steady person. She now went on doing all that was necessary without speaking a word. The paroxysm lasted longer than usual, as Lady Cecilia observed; and, though she continued her assurances to Helen that “It was all nervous—only nerves,” she began evidently to be herself alarmed. At length symptoms of returning animation appeared, and then Cecilia retired, beckoning to Helen to follow her into the next room. “We had better leave mamma to Elliott, she will be happier if she thinks we know nothing of the matter.” Then, recollecting that Helen had been in the room when this attack came on, she added—“But no, you must go back, for mamma will remember that you were present—take as little notice, however, as possible of what has happened.”

Cecilia said that her mother, when they were abroad, had been subject to such seizures at intervals, “and in former times, before I was born, I believe,” said Lady Cecilia, “she had some kind of extraordinary disease in the heart; but she has a particular aversion to being thought nervous. Every physician who has ever pronounced her nervous has always displeased her, and has been dismissed. She was once quite vexed with me for barely suggesting the idea. There,” cried Cecilia, “I hear her voice, go to her.”

Helen followed Lady Cecilia’s suggestion, and took as little notice as possible of what had happened. Elliott disappeared as she entered—the page was waiting at the door, but to Helen’s satisfaction Lady Davenant did not admit him. “Not yet; tell him I will ring when I want him,” said she. The door closed: and Lady Davenant, turning to Helen, said, “Whether I live or die is a point of some consequence to the friends who love me; but there is another question, Helen, of far more importance to me, and, I trust, to them. That question is, whether I continue to live as I have lived, honoured and respected, or live and die dishonoured and despised,”—her eye glanced towards the letter she had been reading. “My poor child,” continued Lady Davenant, looking at Helen’s agitated countenance,—“My poor child, I will not keep you in suspense.” She then told Helen that she was suspected of having revealed a secret of state that had been confided to her husband, and which it was supposed, and truly supposed, that Lord Davenant had told to her. Beyond its political importance, the disclosure involved a charge of baseness, in her having betrayed confidence, having suffered a copy of a letter from an illustrious personage to be handed about and read by several people. “Lord Davenant as yet knows nothing of this, the effect upon him is what I most dread. I cannot show you this,” continued she, opening again the letter she had just received, “because it concerns others as well as myself. I am, at all events, under obligations that can never be forgotten to the person who gave me this timely notice, which could no otherwise have reached me, and the person to whom I am thus obliged is one, Helen, whom neither you nor I like, and whom Cecilia particularly dislikes—Miss Clarendon! Her manner of doing me this service is characteristic: she begins,

“‘Miss Clarendon is aware that Lady Davenant has no liking for her, but that shall not prevent Miss Clarendon from doing what she thinks an act of justice towards a noble character falsely attacked.’”—Lady Davenant read no more.

“Had not you better wait till you are stronger, my dear Lady Davenant!” said Helen, seeing her prepare to write.

“It was once said, gloriously well,” replied Lady Davenant, “that the duties of life are more than life itself—so I think.”

While she wrote, Helen thought of what she had just heard, and she ventured to interrupt Lady Davenant to ask if she had formed any idea of the means by which the secret could have been betrayed—or the copy of the letter obtained.

Yes, she had a suspicion of one person, the diplomatist to whom Mr. Harley had shown such a mortal antipathy. She recollected that the last morning the 代表大会 had sat in Lord Davenant’s cabinet, she had left her writing-desk there, and this letter was in it; she thought that she had locked the desk when she had left the room, it certainly was fast when she returned, but it had a spring Bramah lock, and its being shut down would have fastened it. She had no proof one way or other, her suspicion rested where was her instinctive dislike. It was remarkable, however, that she at once did justice to another person whom she did not like, Mr. Mapletofft, Lord Davenant’s secretary. “His manners do not please me,” she said, “but I have perfect confidence in his integrity.”

Helen felt and admired this generous candour, but her suspicions were not of the diplomatist alone: she thought of one who might perhaps have been employed by him—Carlos the page. And many circumstances, which she recollected and put together, now strengthened this suspicion. She wondered it had not occurred to Lady Davenant; she thought it must, but that she did not choose to mention it. Helen had often heard Lady Davenant’s particular friends complain that it was extremely disagreeable to them to have this boy constantly in the room, whatever might be the conversation. There was the page, either before or behind a screen, always within hearing.

Lady Davenant said that, as Carlos was a Portuguese, and had never been in England till she had brought him over, a few months before, he could not understand English well enough to comprehend what was going on. This was doubted, especially by Helen, who had watched his countenance, and had represented her doubts and her reasons for them to Lady Davenant, but she was not convinced. It was one of the few points on which she could justly be reproached with adhering to her fancy instead of listening to reason. The more Carlos was attacked, the more she adhered to him. In fact, it was not so much because he was a favourite, as because he was a 门生; he was completely dependent upon her protection: she had brought him to England, had saved him from his mother, a profligate camp-follower, had freed him from the most miserable condition possible, and had raised him to easy, happy, confidential life. To the generous the having conferred an obligation is in itself a tie hard to sever. All noble-minded people believe in fidelity, and never doubt of gratitude; they throw their own souls into those they oblige, and think and feel for them, as they, in their situation, would think and feel. Lady Davenant considered it an injustice to doubt the attachment of this boy, and a cruelty she deemed it to suspect him causelessly of being the most base of human creatures—he, a young defenceless orphan. Helen had more than once offended, by attempting to stop Lady Davenant from speaking imprudently before Carlos; she was afraid, even at this moment, to irritate her by giving utterance to her doubts; she determined, therefore, to keep them to herself till she had some positive grounds for her suspicions. She resolved to watch the boy very carefully. Presently, having finished her letters, Lady Davenant rang for him. Helen’s eyes were upon Carlos the moment he entered, and her thoughts did not escape observation.

“You are wrong, Helen,” said Lady Davenant, as she lighted the taper to seal her letters.

“If I am not right,” said Helen, keeping her eyes upon the boy’s changing countenance, “I am too suspicious—but observe, am I not right, at this instant, in thinking that his countenance is 坏？=

Lady Davenant could not but see that countenance change in an extraordinary manner, in spite of his efforts to keep it steady.

“You cause that of which you complain,” said she, going on sealing her letters deliberately. “In courts of public justice, and in private equity,” the word 公平 she pronounced with an austere emphasis, “how often is the change of countenance misinterpreted. The sensibility of innocence, that cannot bear to be suspected, is often mistaken for the confusion worse confounded of guilt.”

Helen observed, that, as Lady Davenant spoke, and spoke in his favour, the boy’s countenance cleared up; that vacillating expression of fear, and consciousness of having something within him unwhipt of justice, completely disappeared, and his whole air was now bold and open—towards Helen, almost an air of defiance.

“What do you think is the cause of this change in his countenance—you observe it, do you not?” asked Helen.

“Yes, and the cause is as plain as the change. He sees I do not suspect him, though you do; and seeing, Helen, that he has at least one friend in the world, who will do him justice, the orphan boy takes courage.”

“I wish I could be as good as you are, my dearest Lady Davenant,” said Helen; “but I cannot help still feeling, and saying,—I doubt. Now observe him, while I speak; I will turn my eyes away, that my terrible looks may not confound him. You say he knows that you do not suspect him, and that I do. How does he know it?”

“How!” said Lady Davenant. “By the universal language of the eyes.”

“Not only by that universal language, I think,” said Helen; “but I suspect he understands every word we say.”

Helen, without ever looking up from a bunch of seals which she was rubbing bright, slowly and very distinctly added,

“I think that he can speak, read, and write English.”

A change in the countenance of Carlos appeared, notwithstanding all his efforts to hold his features in the same position; instead of placid composure there was now grim rigidity.

“Give me the great seal with the coat of arms on it,” said Lady Davenant, dropping the wax on her letter, and watching the boy’s eye as she spoke, without herself looking towards the seal she had described. He never stirred, and Helen began to fear she was unjust and suspicious. But again her doubts, at least of his disposition, occurred: as she was passing through Lady Davenant’s dressing-room with her, when they were going down to dinner, the page following them, Helen caught his figure in a mirror, and saw that he was making a horrible grimace at her behind her back, his dark countenance expressing extreme hatred and revenge. Helen touched Lady Davenant’s arm, but, before her eye could be directed to the glass, Carlos, perceiving that he was observed, pretended to be suddenly seized with the cramp in his foot, which obliged him to make these frightful contortions. Helen was shocked by his artfulness, but it succeeded with Lady Davenant: it was in vain to say more about it to her, so Helen let it pass. When she mentioned it afterwards to Lady Cecilia, she said—“I am sorry, for your sake, Helen, that this happened; depend upon it, that revengeful little Portuguese gnome will work you mischief some time or other.” Helen did not think of herself—indeed she could not imagine any means by which he could possibly work her woe; but the face was so horrible, that it came again and again before her eyes, and she was more and more determined to watch Carlos constantly.

This was one of the public days at Clarendon Park, on which there was a good deal of company; many of the neighbouring gentry were to be at dinner. When Lady Davenant appeared, no inquiries concerning her health were made by her daughter or by the general—no allusion to her having been unwell. She seemed quite recovered, and Helen observed that she particularly exerted herself, and that her manner was more gracious than usual to commonplace people—more present to everything that was passing. She retired however early, and took Helen with her. The depression of her spirits, or rather the weight upon her mind, appeared again as soon as they were alone together. She took her writing-desk, and looked over some letters which she said ought to be burned. She could not sleep in peace, she said—she ought not to sleep, till this was done. Several of these, as she looked over them, seemed to give her pain, and excited her indignation or contempt as she from time to time exclaimed—“Meanness!—corruption!—ingratitude too!—all favours forgotten! To see—to feel this—is the common fate of all who have lived the life I have lived; of this I am not so inconsistent as to complain. But it is hard that my own character—the integrity of a whole life—should avail me nothing! And yet,” added she, after a moment’s pause of reflection, “to how few can my character be really known! Women cannot, like men, make their characters known by public actions. I have no right to complain; but if Lord Davenant’s honour is to be—” She paused; her thoughts seeming too painful for utterance. She completed the arrangement of the papers, and, as she pressed down the lid of her writing-box, and heard the closing sound of the lock, she said,—“Now I may sleep in peace.” She put out the lamp, and went to her bed-room, carrying with her two or three books which she intended to read after she should be in bed; for, though she talked of sleeping, it was plain she thought she should not. Helen prevailed upon her to let her remain with her, and read to her.

She opened first a volume of Shakspeare, in which was Lady Davenant’s mark. “Yes,” said she, “read that speech of Wolsey’s; read that whole scene, the finest picture of ambition ever drawn.” And, after she had heard the scene, she observed that there is no proof more certain of the truth of poetic description, than its recurring to us at the time we strongly feel. “Those who tell us,” continued she, “that it is unnatural to recollect poetry or eloquence at times of powerful emotion, are much mistaken; they have not strong feelings or strong imaginations. I can affirm from my own experience, that it is perfectly natural.” Lady Davenant rapidly mentioned some instances of this sort which she recollected, but seeing the anxiety of Helen’s look, she added, “You are afraid that I am feverish; you wish me to rest; then, go on reading to me.”

Helen read on, till Lady Davenant declared she would not let her sit up any longer. “Only, before you go, my dear child, look here at what I have been looking at while you have been reading.” She made Helen place herself so as to see exactly in the same direction and light in which she was looking, and she pointed out to her, in the lining of the bed, a place where, from the falling of the folds and the crinkles in the material, a figure with the head, head-dress, and perfect profile of an old woman with a turned-up chin, appeared. At first Helen could not see it; but at last she caught it, and was struck with it. “The same sort of curious effect of chance resemblance and coincidence which painters, Leonardo da Vinci in particular, have observed in the moss and stains on old stones,” observed Lady Davenant. “But it struck me to-night, Helen, perhaps because I am a little feverish—it struck me in a new point of view—moral, not picturesque. If such be the effects of chance, or of coincidence, how cautious we should be in deciding from appearances, or pronouncing from circumstantial evidence upon the guilt of evil design in any human creature.”

“You mean this to apply to me about Carlos?” said Helen.

“I do. But not only of him and you was I thinking, but of myself and those who judge of me falsely from coincidences, attributing to me designs which I never had, and actions of which I am incapable.” She suddenly raised herself in her bed, and was going to say more, but the pendule striking at that instant two o’clock, she stopped abruptly, kissed Helen, and sent her away.

Helen gathered together and carried away with her all the books, that Lady Davenant might not be tempted to look at them more. As she had several piled on one arm, and had a taper in her hand, she was somewhat encumbered, and, though she managed to open the bed-room door, and to shut it again without letting any of the books fall, and crossed the little ante-room between the bed-chamber and dressing-room safely, yet, as she was opening the dressing-room door, and taking too much or too little care of some part of her pyramid of books, down came the whole pile with a noise which, in the stillness of the night, sounded tremendous. She was afraid it would disturb Lady Davenant, and was going back to tell her what it was, when she was startled by hearing, as she thought, the moving of a chair or table in the dressing-room: she stopped short to listen—all was silent; she thought she had mistaken the direction in which the noise came.

She softly opened the dressing-room door, and looked in—all was silent—no chair, or stool, or table overturned, every thing was in its place exactly as they had left it, but there was a strong smell of a half extinguished lamp: she thought it had been put out when they had left the room, she now supposed it had not been sufficiently lowered, she turned the screw, and took care now to see it completely extinguished; then went back for the books, and as people sometimes will, when most tired and most late, be most orderly, she would not go to bed without putting every volume in its place in the book-case. After reaching to put one book upon the highest shelf, as she was getting down she laid her hand on the top of Lady Davenant’s writing-box, and, as she leaned on it, was surprised to hear the click of its lock closing. The sound was so peculiar she could not be mistaken; besides, she thought she had felt the lid give way under her pressure. There was no key left in the lock—she perfectly recollected the very sound of that click when Lady Davenant shut the lid down before leaving the room this night. She stood looking at the lock, and considering how this could be, and as she remained perfectly still, she heard, or thought she heard some one breathing near her. Holding in her own breath, she listened and cautiously looked round without stirring from the place where she stood—one of the window curtains moved, so at least she thought—yes, certainly there was some living thing behind it. It might be Lady Davenant’s great dog; but looking again at the bottom of the curtain she saw a human foot. The page, Carlos! was her instant suspicion, and his vengeful face came before her, and a vision of a stiletto! or she did not well know what. She trembled all over; yet she had presence of mind enough to recollect that she should not seem to take notice. And, while she moved about the books on the table, she gave another look, and saw that the foot was not withdrawn. She knew she was safe still, it had not been perceived that she had seen it; now what was she to do? “Go up to that curtain and draw it back and face the boy”—but she did not dare; yet he was only a boy—But it might be a man and not the page. Better go and call somebody—tell Lady Davenant. She MUST go through the antechamber, and pass close to that curtain to open the door. All this was the thought of one moment, and she went on holding up the light to the book-shelves as if in quest of some book, and kept coasting along to gain the door; she was afraid when she was to pass the window-curtain, either of touching it, or of stumbling over that foot. But she got past without touching or stumbling, opened the door, whisked through—that was done too quickly, but she could not help it,—she shut, bolted the door, and ran across the ante-chamber to Lady Davenant’s bed-room. She entered softly, aware of the danger to her of sudden alarm. But Lady Davenant was not asleep, was not alarmed, but was 有效 in a moment. First she asked:—“Did you lock the door after you?” “Yes, bolted it,”—“That is well.” Neither of them said. “Who do you think it is?” But each knew what the other thought. They returned through the ante-chamber to the dressing-room. But when they opened the door, all was quiet—no one behind the curtain, no one in the room—they searched under the sofas, everywhere; there was no closet or hiding-place in which any one could be concealed. The window fastenings were unstirred. But the door into the gallery was unlocked, and the simple thing appeared—that Helen, in her confusion, had thought only of fastening the door into the ante-chamber, which also opened on the gallery, but had totally forgotten to lock that from the dressing-room into the gallery, by which whoever had been in the room had escaped without any difficulty. Lady Davenant rather inclined to believe that no one had been there, and that it was all Helen’s imagination. But Helen persisted that she had seen what she had seen, and heard what she had heard. They went into the gallery—all silence, no creature visible, and the doors at the ends of the gallery locked outside.

After a fruitless search they retired, Lady Davenant to her own room, and Helen to hers, full of shame and regret that she had not had the courage to open the curtain at the right moment. Nothing could stir her belief, however, in the evidence of her senses; the boy must have been there, and must be still concealed somewhere in the gallery, or in some of the rooms opening into it. Some of these were unoccupied, but they were all locked up, as Lady Davenant had told her when she had proposed searching them; one or two they tried and found fastened. She stood at her own door, after having put down the candle on her table, still giving a lingering look-out, when, through the darkness in the gallery at the further end, she saw a ray of light on the floor, which seemed to come from under the door of a room unoccupied—Mr. Mapletofft’s room; he had gone to town with Lord Davenant. Helen went on tiptoe very softly along the gallery, almost to this door, when it suddenly opened, and the page stood before her, the lamp in his hand shining full on his face and on hers. Both started—then both were motionless for one second—but he, recovering instantly, shot back again into the room, flung to the door, and locked it.

“Seen him!” cried Lady Davenant, when Helen flew to her room and told her; “seen him! do you say?” and then ringing her bell, she bade Helen run and knock at the general’s door, while she went herself to Mr. Mapletofft’s room, commanding Carlos to open the door immediately. But he would not open it, nor make any answer; the servants came, and the general ordered one to go round to the windows of the room lest the boy should escape that way. It was too late, he had escaped; when the door was forced, one of the windows was found open; Carlos was not in the room; he must have swung himself down from the height by means of a tree which was near the window. The lamp was still burning, and papers half burnt smouldering on the table. There were sufficient remains to tell what they had been. Lady Davenant saw, in the handwriting of Carlos, copies of letters taken from her desk. One half unburnt cover of the packet he had been making up, showed by its direction to whom it was to have been sent, and there were a few lines in the boy’s own writing within—side-addressed to his employer, which revealed the whole. His employer was, as Lady Davenant had suspected—the diplomatist!

A duplicate Bramah key was found under the table, and she recollected that she had some months ago missed this duplicate key of her desk, and supposed she had dropped it from her watch-ring while out walking; she recollected, further, that Carlos had with great zeal assisted her in the search for it all through the shrubbery walks. The proofs of this boy’s artifice and long-premeditated treachery, accumulating upon Lady Davenant, shocked her so much that she could not think of anything else. “Is it possible? is it in human nature?” she exclaimed. “Such falsehood, such art, such ingratitude!” As she fixed her eyes upon the writing, scarcely yet dry, she repeated. “It is his writing—I see it, yet can scarcely believe it! I, who taught him to write myself—guided that little hand to make the first letters that he ever formed! And this is in human nature! I could not have conceived it—it is dreadful to be so convinced, it lowers one’s confidence in one’s fellow-creatures. That is the worst of all!” She sighed deeply, and then, turning to Helen, said, “But let us think no more of it to-night, we can do no more, they are in pursuit of him; I hope I may never, never, see him more.”

Some people value their friends most for active service, some for passive kindness. Some are won by tender expressions, some convinced by solid proofs of regard; others of a yet nobler kind, and of this sort was Lady Davenant, are apt to be best pleased, most touched, by proofs that their own character has been thoroughly understood, and that they have justly appreciated the good qualities of their friend. More than by all the kindness and sympathy Helen had ever before shown her was she now pleased and touched by the respect for her feelings in this affair of the page. Helen never having at the moment of his detection nor afterwards, by word or look, indulged in the self-triumph of “You see how right I was!” which implies, “You see how wrong you were!” On the contrary, she gave what comfort she honestly could by showing that she knew from what humane motives and generous feelings Lady Davenant had persisted in supporting this boy to the last.

As to the little wretch himself, he appeared no more. Search was made for him in every direction, but he was not to be found, and Helen thought it was well that Lady Davenant should be spared the pain of seeing or hearing more about him.

The whole mystery was now solved, the difficulty for Lady Davenant in a fair way to be ended. She had felt an instinctive aversion to the fawning tone of the diplomatist, whom she had suspected of caballing against Lord Davenant secretly, and it was now proved that he had been base beyond what she could have conceived possible; had been in confederacy with this boy, whom he had corrupted, purchasing from him copies of private letters, and bribing him to betray his benefactress. The copy of that letter from an illustrious personage had been thus obtained. The proofs now brought home to the guilty person, deprived him at once of all future means of injuring Lord Davenant. Completely in their power, he would be ready to ensure silence at any price, and, instead of caballing further, this low intriguer would now be compelled to return from whence he came, too happy to be permitted to retreat from his situation, and quit England without being brought to public disgrace. No notice of the report that had been in private circulation against Lady Davenant having yet appeared in the public prints, it was possible to prevent the mischief that even the mention of her name in such an affair must have occasioned. It was necessary, however, that letters should be written immediately to the different persons whom the private reports had reached; and Helen and her daughter trembled for her health in consequence of this extreme hurry and fatigue, but she repeated her favourite maxim—“Better to wear out, than to rust out”—and she accomplished all that was to be done. Lord Davenant wrote in triumph that all was settled, all difficulties removed, and they were to set out for Russia immediately.

And now Lady Davenant breathed freely. Relieved from the intolerable thought that the base finger of suspicion could point at her or at Lord Davenant, her spirits rose, her whole appearance renovated, and all the fears that Helen and her daughter had felt, lest she should not be able to sustain the hardships of a long voyage and the rigour of a northern climate, were now completely dispelled.

The day of departure was fixed—Lady Davenant remained, however, as long as she possibly could with her daughter; and she was anxious, too, to see Granville Beauclerc before she left Clarendon Park.

The number of the days of quarantine were gone over every morning at breakfast by Lady Cecilia and the general; they looked in the papers carefully for the arrivals at the hotel which Beauclerc usually frequented. This morning, in reading the list aloud, the general came to the name of Sir Thomas D’Aubigny, brother to the colonel. The paragraph stated that Colonel D’Aubigny had left some manuscripts to his brother, which would soon be published, and then followed some puff in the usual style, which the general did not think it necessary to read. But one of the officers, who knew some of the D’Aubignys, went on talking of the colonel, and relating various anecdotes to prove that his souvenirs would be amusing. Helen, who was conscious that she always blushed when Colonel D’Aubigny’s name was mentioned, and that the general had observed it, was glad that he never looked up from what he was reading, and when she had courage to turn towards her, she admired Cecilia’s perfect self-possession. Beauclerc’s name was not among the arrivals, and it was settled consequently that they should not see him this day.

Some time after they had left the breakfast-room, Helen found Lady Davenant in her own apartment, sitting, as it was very unusual with her, perfectly unemployed—her head leaning on her hand, and an expression of pain in her countenance. “Are not you well, my dear Lady Davenant?” Helen asked.

“My mind is not well,” she replied, “and that always affects my body, and I suppose my looks.” After a moment’s silence she fixed her eyes on Helen, and said, “You tell me that Colonel D’Aubigny never was a lover—never was an admirer of yours?”

“Never!” said Helen, low, but very decidedly. Lady Davenant sighed, but did not speak.

After a longer continuance of silence than had almost ever occurred when they two were alone together, Lady Davenant looked up, and said, “I hope in God that I am mistaken. I pray that I may never live to see it!”

“To see what?” cried Helen.

“To see that one little black spot, invisible to you, Helen, the speck of evil in that heart—my daughter’s heart—spread and taint, and destroy all that is good. It must be cut out—at any pain it must be cut away; if any part be unsound, the corruption will spread.”

“Corruption in Cecilia!” exclaimed Helen. “Oh! I know her—I know her from dear childhood! there is nothing corrupt in her, no, not a thought!”

“My dear Helen, you see her as she has been—as she is. I see her as she may become—very—frightfully different. Helen! if truth fail, if the principle of truth fail in her character, all will fail! All that charming nature, all that fair semblance, all that fair reality, all this bright summer’s dream of happiness, even love—the supreme felicity of her warm heart—even love will fail her. Cecilia will lose her husband’s affections!”

Helen uttered a faint cry.

“Worse!” continued Lady Davenant. “Worse! she will lose her own esteem, she will sink, but I shall be gone,” cried she, and pressing her hand upon her heart, she faintly repeated, “Gone!” And then abruptly added, “Call Cecilia! I must see Cecilia, I must speak to her. But first I will tell you, from a few words that dropped this morning from General Clarendon, I suspect—I fear that Cecilia has deceived him!”

“Impossible!—about what—about whom?”

“That Colonel D’Aubigny,” said Lady Davenant.

“I know all about it, and it was all nothing but nonsense. Did you look at her when the general read that paragraph this morning—did you see that innocent countenance?”

“I saw it, Helen, and thought as you did, but I have been so deceived—so lately in countenance!”

“Not by hers—never.”

“Not by yours, Helen, never. And yet, why should I say so? This very morning, yours, had I not known you, yours would have misled me.”

“Oh, my foolish absurd habit of blushing, how I wish I could prevent it!” said Helen; “I know it will make me betray somebody some time or other.”

“Betray! What have you to betray?” cried Lady Davenant, leaning forward with an eagerness of eye and voice that startled Helen from all power of immediate reply. After an instant’s pause, however, she answered firmly, “Nothing, Lady Davenant, and that there is nothing wrong to be known about Cecilia, I as firmly believe as that I stand here at this moment. Can you suspect anything really wrong?”

“Suspect!—wrong!” cried Lady Davenant, starting up, with a look in her eyes which made Helen recoil. “Helen, what can you conceive that I suspect wrong?—Cecilia?—Captain D’Aubigny?—What did you mean? Wrong did you say?—of Cecilia? Could you mean—could you conceive, Helen, that I, having such a suspicion could be here—living with her—or—living anywhere—” And she sank down on the sofa again, seized with sudden spasm—in a convulsion of agonising pain. But she held Helen’s hand fast grasped, detaining her—preventing her from pulling the bell; and by degrees the pain passed off, the livid hue cleared away, the colour of life once more returned, but more tardily than before, and Helen was excessively alarmed.

“Poor child! my poor, dear child, I feel—I hear your heart beating. You are a coward, Helen, but a sweet creature; and I love you—and I love my daughter. What were we saying?”

“Oh, say no more! say no more now, for Heaven’s sake,” said Helen, kneeling beside her; and, yielding to that imploring look, Lady Davenant, with a fond smile, parted the hair on her forehead, kissed her, and remained perfectly quiet and silent for some time.

“I am quite well again now,” said she, “and quite composed. If Cecilia has told her husband the whole truth, she will continue to be, as she is, a happy wife; but if she have deceived him in the estimation of a single word—she is undone. With him, of all men, never will confidence, once broken, unite again. Now General Clarendon told me this morning—would I had known it before the marriage!—that he had made one point with my daughter, and only one, on the faith of which he married: the point was, that she should tell him, if she had ever loved any other man. And she told him—I fear from some words which he said afterwards—I am sure he is in the belief—the certainty, that his wife never loved any man breathing but himself.”

“Nor did she,” said Helen. “I can answer for it—she has told him the truth—and she has nothing to fear, nor have you.”

“You give me new life!” cried Lady Davenant, her face becoming suddenly radiant with hope; “but how can you answer for this, Helen? You had no part in any deceit, I am sure, but there was something about a miniature of you, which I found in Colonel D’Aubigny’s hands one day. That was done, I thought at the time, to deceive me, to make me believe that you were his object.—Deceit there was.”

“On his part,” said Helen, “much and always; but on Cecilia’s there was only, from her over-awe of you, some little concealment; but the whole was broken off and repented of, whatever little there was, long since. And as to loving him, she never did; she told me so then, and often and often she has told me so since.”

“Convince me of that,” said Lady Davenant; “convince me that she thought what she said. I believe, indeed, that till she met General Clarendon she never felt any enthusiastic attachment, but I thought she liked that man—it was all coquetry, flirting nonsense perhaps. Be it so—I am willing to believe it. Convince me but that she is true—there is the only point of consequence. The man is dead and gone, the whole in oblivion, and all that is of importance is her truth; convince me but of that, and I am a happy mother.”

Helen brought recollections, and proofs from conversations at the time and letters since, confirming at least Cecilia’s own belief that she had never loved the man, that it was all vanity on her part and deception on his: Lady Davenant listened, willing to be convinced.

“And now,” said she, “let us put this matter out of our minds entirely—I want to talk to you of yourself.”

She took Helen out with her in her pony-phaeton, and spoke of Granville Beauclerc, and of his and Helen’s prospects of happiness.

Lady Cecilia, who was riding with her husband in some fields adjoining the park, caught a glimpse of the phaeton as it went along the avenue, and, while the general was giving some orders to the wood-ranger about a new plantation, she, telling him that she would be back in two minutes, cantered off to overtake her mother, and, making a short cut across the fields, she leaped a wide ha-ha which came in her way. She was an excellent horse-woman, and Fairy carried her lightly over; and when she heard the general’s voice in dismay and indignation at what she had done, she turned and laughed, and cantered on till she overtook the phaeton. The breeze had blown her hair most becomingly, and raised her colour, and her eyes were joyously bright, and her light figure, always well on horseback, now looked so graceful as she bent to speak to her mother, that her husband could not find it in his heart to scold her, and he who came to chide remained to admire. Her mother, looking up at her, could not help exclaiming,

“Well! certainly, you are an excessively pretty creature!”

“Bearers of good news always look well, I believe,” said she, smiling; “so there is now some goodness in my face.”

“That there certainly is,” said her mother, fondly.

“But you certainly don’t know what it is—you cannot know till I tell you, my dearest Helen—my dear mother, I mean. Granville Beauclerc will be here to-day—I am sure of it. So pray do not go far from home—do not go out of the grounds: this was what I was in such a hurry to say to you.”

“But how do you know, Cecilia?”

“Just because I can read,” replied she, “because I can read a newspaper through, which none of you newspaper-readers by profession could do this morning. After you all of you laid them down I took them up, and found in that evening paper which your stupid aide-de-camp had been poring and boring over, a fresh list of arrivals, and Mr. Granville Beauclerc among them at full length. Now he would not stay a moment longer in town than was absolutely necessary, you know, or else he ought to be excommunicated. But it is not in his nature to delay; he will be here directly—I should not be surprised—”

“You are right, Cecilia,” interrupted the general. “I see a caleche on that road.—It is he.”

The caleche turned into the park, and in a few minutes they met.—Carriages, horses, and servants, were sent off to the house, while the whole party walked, and talked, and looked. Lady Cecilia was in delightful spirits, and so affectionately, so delicately joyful—so kind, that if Helen and Beauclerc had ever blamed, or had reason to blame her, it must now be for ever forgotten. As, in their walk, they came near that seat by the water’s side where the lovers had parted, Cecilia whispered something to her mother, and instantly it was “done as desired.” Beauclerc and Helen were left to their own explanations, and the rest of the party pursued their walk home. Of what passed in this explanatory scene no note has been transmitted to the biographer, and we must be satisfied with the result.

“All is right!” cried Lady Cecilia. “O my dear mother, I am the happiest creature in the world, if you were not going away; could not you stay—a little, a very little longer—just till—”

“No, no, my dear, do not urge me to stay,” said Lady Davenant; “I cannot—your father expects me to-morrow.”

All her preparations were made—in short, it must be so, and Lady Davenant begged her daughter would not spend the short remaining time they were to have together in entreaties, distressing and irritating to the feelings of those who ask and of those who must refuse. “Let us enjoy in peace,” said she, “all that is to be enjoyed this day before I go.”

When Helen entered the drawing-room before dinner, knowing that she was very late, she found assembled Lady Davenant, Beauclerc, and the officers, but Cecilia was not there, nor did the punctual general make his appearance; the dinner-hour was passed, a servant had twice looked in to announce it, and, seeing neither my lady nor the general, had in surprise retired. Silence prevailed—what could be the matter? So unusual for the general to be late. The general came in, hurried—very uncommon in him, and, after saying a few words in a low voice to Lady Davenant, who immediately went up stairs, he begged pardon, was very sorry he had kept dinner waiting, but Lady Cecilia had been taken ill—had fainted—she was better—he hoped it was nothing that would signify—she was lying down—he begged they would go to dinner. And to dinner they went, and when Lady Davenant returned she put Helen’s mind at ease by saying it was only a little faintishness from over-fatigue. She had prescribed rest, and Cecilia had herself desired to be left quite alone. After dinner Lady Davenant went up again to see her, found her not so well—feverish; she would not let Helen go to her—they would talk if they were together, and she thought it necessary to keep Cecilia very quiet. If she would but submit to this, she would be well again probably in the morning. At tea-time, and in the course of the evening twice, Cecilia sent to beg to speak to Helen; but Lady Davenant and the general joined in requesting her not to go. The general went himself to Lady Cecilia to enforce obedience, and he reported that she had submitted with a good grace.

Helen was happily engaged by Beauclerc’s conversation during the rest of the evening. It was late before they retired, and when she went up-stairs, Felicie said that her lady was asleep, and had been asleep for the last two hours, and she was sure that after such good rest her ladyship would be perfectly well in the morning. Without further anxiety about her friend, therefore, Helen went to her own room. It was a fine moonlight night, and she threw open the shutters, and stood for a long time looking out upon the moonlight, which she loved; and even after she had retired to bed it was long before she could sleep. The only painful thought in her mind was of Lady Davenant’s approaching departure; without her, all happiness would be incomplete; but still, hope and love had much that was delightful to whisper, and, as she at last sank to sleep, Beauclerc’s voice seemed still speaking to her in soft sounds. Yet the dream which followed was uneasy; she thought that they were standing together in the library, at the open door of the conservatory, by moonlight, and he asked her to walk out, and when she did not comply, all changed, and she saw him walking with another—with Lady Castlefort; but then the figure changed to one younger—more beautiful—it must be, as the beating of Helen’s heart in the dream told her—it must be Lady Blanche. Without seeing Helen, however, they seemed to come on, smiling and talking low to each other along the matted alley of the conservatory, almost to the very door where she was still, as she thought, standing with her hand upon the lock, and then they stopped, and Beauclerc pulled from an orange-tree a blossom which seemed the very same which Helen had given to him that evening, he offered it to Lady Blanche, and something he whispered; but at this moment the handle of the lock seemed to slip, and Helen awoke with a start; and when she was awake, the noise of her dream seemed to continue; she heard the real sound of a lock turning—her door slowly opened, and a white figure appeared. Helen started up in her bed, and awaking thoroughly, saw that it was only Cecilia in her dressing-gown.

“Cecilia! What’s the matter, my dear? are you worse?”

Lady Cecilia put her finger on her lips, closed the door behind her, and said, “Hush! hush! or you’ll waken Felicie; she is sleeping in the dressing-room to-night. Mamma ordered it, in case I should want her.”

“And how are you now? What can I do for you?”

“My dear Helen, you can do something for me indeed. But don’t get up. Lie down and listen to me. I want to speak to you.”

“Sit down, then, my dear Cecilia, sit down here beside me.”

“No, no, I need not sit down, I am very well, standing. Only let me say what I have to say. I am quite well.”

“Quite well! indeed you are not. I feel you all trembling. You must sit down, indeed, my dear,” said Helen, pressing her.

She sat down. “Now listen to me—do not waste time, for I can’t stay. Oh! if the general should awake and find me gone.”

“What is the matter, my dear Cecilia? Only tell me what I can do for you.”

“That is the thing; but I am afraid, now it is come to the point.” Lady Cecilia breathed quick and short. “I am almost afraid to ask you to do this for me.”

“Afraid! my dear Cecilia, to ask me to do anything in this world for you! How can you be afraid? Tell me only what it is at once.”

“I am very foolish—I am very weak. I know you love me—would do anything for me, Helen. And this is the simplest thing in the world, but the greatest favour—the greatest service. It is only just to receive a packet, which the general will give you in the morning. He will ask if it is for you. And you will just accept of it. I don’t ask you to say it is yours, or to say a word about it—only receive it for me.”

“Yes, I will, to be sure. But why should he give it to me, and not to yourself?”

“Oh, he thinks, and you must let him think, it is for you, that’s all. Will you promise me?”—But Helen made no answer. “Oh, promise me, promise me, speak, for I can’t stay. I will explain it all to you in the morning.” She rose to go.

“Stay, stay! Cecilia,” cried Helen, stopping her; “stay!—you must, indeed, explain it all to me now—you must indeed!”

Lady Cecilia hesitated—said she had not time. “You said, Helen, that you would take the packet, and you know you must; but I will explain it all as fast as I can. You know I fainted, but you do not know why? I will tell you exactly how it all happened:—you recollect my coming into the library after I was dressed, before you went up-stairs, and giving you a sprig of orange flowers?”

“Oh yes, I was dreaming of it just now when you came in,” said Helen. “Well, what of that?”

“Nothing, only you must have been surprised to hear so soon afterwards that I had fainted.”

“Yes,” Helen said, she had been very much surprised and alarmed; and again Lady Cecilia paused.

“Well, I went from you directly to Clarendon, to give him a rose, which you may remember I had in my hand for him. I found him in the study, talking to corporal somebody. He just smiled as I came in, took the rose, and said, ‘I shall be ready this moment:’ and looking to a table on which were heaps of letters and parcels which Granville had brought from town, he added, ‘I do not know whether there is anything there for you, Cecilia?’ I went to look, and he went on talking to his corporal. He was standing with his back to the table.”

Helen felt that Lady Cecilia told all these minute details as if there was some fact to which she feared to come. Cecilia went on very quickly. “I did not find anything for myself; but in tossing over the papers I saw a packet directed to General Clarendon. I thought it was a feigned hand—and yet that I knew it—that I had seen it somewhere lately. There was one little flourish that I recollected; it was like the writing of that wretched Carlos.”

“Carlos!” cried Helen: “well!”

“The more I looked at it,” continued Lady Cecilia, “the more like I thought it; and I was going to say so to the general, only I waited till he had done his business: but as I was examining it through the outer cover, of very thin foreign paper, I could distinguish the writing of some of the inside, and it was like your hand or like mine. You know, between our hands there is such a great resemblance, there is no telling one from the other.”

Helen did not think so, but she remained silent.

“At least,” said Cecilia, answering her look of doubt, “at least the general says so; he never knows our hands asunder. Well! I perceived that there was something hard inside—more than papers; and as I felt it, there came from it an uncommon perfume—a particular perfume, like what I used to have once, at the time—that time that I can never bear to think of, you know—”

“I know,” said Helen, and in a low voice she added, “you mean about Colonel D’Aubigny.”

“The perfume, and altogether I do not know what, quite overcame me. I had just sense enough to throw the packet from me: I made an effort, and reached the window, and I was trying to open the sash, I remember; but what happened immediately after that, I cannot tell you. When I came to myself, I was in my husband’s arms; he was carrying me up-stairs—and so much alarmed about me he was! Oh, Helen, I do so love him! He laid me on the bed, and he spoke so kindly, reproaching me for not taking more care of myself—but so fondly! Somehow I could not bear it just then, and I closed my eyes as his met mine. He, I knew, could suspect nothing—but still! He stayed beside me, holding my hand: then dinner was ready; he had been twice summoned. It was a relief to me when he left me. Next, I believe, my mother came up, and felt my pulse, and scolded me for over-fatiguing myself, and for that leap; and I pleaded guilty, and it was all very well. I saw she had not an idea there was anything else. Mamma really is not suspicious, with all her penetration—she is not suspicious.”

“And why did you not tell her all the little you had to tell, dear Cecilia? If you had, long ago, when I begged of you to do so—if you had told your mother all about—”

“Told her!” interrupted Cecilia; “told my mother!—oh no, Helen!”

Helen sighed, and feebly said, “Go on.”

“Well! when you were at dinner, it came into my poor head that the general would open that parcel before I could see you again, and before I could ask your advice and settle with you—before I could know what was to be done. I was so anxious, I sent for you twice.”

“But Lady Davenant and the general forbade me to go to you.”

“Yes,”—Lady Cecilia said she understood that, and she had seen the danger of showing too much impatience to speak to Helen; she thought it might excite suspicion of her having something particular to say, she had therefore refrained from asking again. She was not asleep when Helen came to bed, though Felicie thought she was; she was much too anxious to sleep till she had seen her husband again; she was awake when he came into his room; she saw him come in with some letters and packets in his hand; by his look she knew all was still safe—he had not opened 这 particular packet—he held it among a parcel of military returns in his hand as he came to the side of the bed on tiptoe to see if she was asleep—to ask how she did; “He touched my pulse,” said Lady Cecilia,—“and I am sure he might well say it was terribly quick.

“Every instant I thought he would open that packet. He threw it, however, and all the rest, down on the table, to be read in the morning, as usual, as soon as he awoke. After feeling my pulse again, the last thing, and satisfying himself that it was better—‘Quieter now,’ said he, he fell fast asleep, and slept so soundly, and I—”

Helen looked at her with astonishment, and was silent.

“Oh speak to me!” said Lady Cecilia, “what do you say, Helen?”

“I say that I cannot imagine why you are so much alarmed about this packet.”

“Because I am a fool, I believe,” said Lady Cecilia, trying to laugh. “I am so afraid of his opening it.”

“But why?” said Helen, “what do you think there is in it?”

“I have told you, surely! Letters—foolish letters of mine to that D’Aubigny. Oh how I repent I ever wrote a line to him! And he told me, he absolutely swore, he had destroyed every note and letter I ever wrote to him. He was the most false of human beings!”

“He was a very bad man—I always thought so,” said Helen; “but, Cecilia, I never knew that he had any letters of yours.”

“Oh yes, you did, my dear, at the time; do not you recollect I showed you a letter, and it was you who made me break off the correspondence?”

“I remember your showing me several letters of his,” said Helen, “but not of yours—only one or two notes—asking for that picture back again which he had stolen from your portfolio.”

“Yes, and about the verses; surely you recollect my showing you another letter of mine, Helen!”

“Yes, but these were all of no consequence; there must be more, or you could not be so much afraid, Cecilia, of the general’s seeing these, surely.” At this moment Lady Davenant’s prophecy, all she had said about her daughter, flashed across Helen’s mind, and with increasing eagerness she went on. “What is there in those letters that can alarm you so much?”

“I declare I do not know,” said Cecilia, “that is the plain truth; I cannot recollect—I cannot be certain what there is in them.”

“But it is not so long ago, Cecilia,—only two years?”

“That is true, but so many great events have happened since, and such new feelings, all that early nonsense was swept out of my mind. I never really loved that wretch—”

A gleam of joy came across Helen’s face.

“Never, never,” repeated Lady Cecilia.

“Oh, I am happy still,” cried Helen. “I told your mother I was sure of this.”

“Good heavens!—Does she know about this packet?”

“No, no!—how could she? But what frightens you, my dear Cecilia? you say there is nothing wrong in the letters?”

“Nothing—nothing.”

“Then make no wrong out of nothing,” cried Helen. “If you break confidence with your husband, that confidence will never, never unite again—your mother says so.”

“My mother!” cried Cecilia: “Good heavens!—so she does suspect?—tell me, Helen, tell me what she suspects.”

“That you did not at first—before you were married, tell the general the whole truth about Colonel D’Aubigny.”

Cecilia was silent.

“But it is not yet too late,” said Helen, earnestly; “you can set it all right now—this is the moment, my dearest Cecilia. Do, do,” cried Helen, “do tell him all—bid him look at the letters.”

“Look at them! Impossible! Impossible!” said Lady Cecilia. “Bid me die rather.”

She turned quite away.

“Listen to me, Cecilia;” she held her fast. “You must do it, Cecilia.”

“Helen, I cannot.”

“You can, indeed you can,” said Helen; “only have courage 现在, and you will be happier all your life afterwards.”

“Do not ask it—do not ask it—it is all in vain, you are wasting time.”

“No, no—not wasting time; and in short, Cecilia, you must do what I ask of you, for it is right; and I will not do what you ask of me, for it is wrong.”

“You will not!—You will not!” cried Lady Cecilia, breathless. “After all! You will not receive the packet for me! you will not let the general believe the letters to be yours! Then I am undone! You will not do it!—Then do not talk to me—do not talk to me—you do not know General Clarendon. If his jealousy were once roused, you have no idea what it would be.”

“If the man were alive,” said Helen, “but since he is dead—”

“But Clarendon would never forgive me for having loved another—”

“You said you did not love him.”

“Nor did I ever 真 love that man; but still Clarendon, from even seeing those letters, might think I did. The very fact of having written such letters would be destruction to me with Clarendon. You do not know Clarendon. How can I convince you it is impossible for me to tell him? At the time he first proposed for me—oh! how I loved him, and feared to lose him. One day my mother, when I was not by, said something—I do not know what, about a first love, let fall something about that hateful D’Aubigny, and the general came to me in such a state! Oh, Helen, in such a state! I thought it was all at an end. He told me he never would marry any woman on earth who had ever loved another. I told him I never had, and that was true, you know; but then I went a little beyond perhaps. I said I had never THOUGHT of anybody else, for he made such a point of that. In short, I was a coward—a fool; I little foresaw—I laughed it off, and told him that what mamma had said was all a mistake, all nonsense; that Colonel D’Aubigny was a sort of universal flirt—and that was very true, I am sure: that he had admired us both, both you and me, but you last, you most, Helen, I said.”

“Oh, Cecilia, how could you say so, when you knew he never cared for me in the least?”

“Forgive me, my dear, for there was no other way; and what harm did it do you, or what harm can it ever do you? It only makes it the easier for you to help me—to save me now. And Granville,” continued Lady Cecilia, thinking that was the obstacle in Helen’s mind, “and Granville need never know it.”

Helen’s countenance suddenly changed—“Granville! I never thought of that!” and now that she did think of it, she reproached herself with the selfishness of that fear. Till this moment, she knew her motives had been all singly for Cecilia’s happiness; now the fear she felt of this some way hurting her with Beauclerc made her less resolute. Lady Cecilia saw her giving way and hurried on——

“Oh, my dear Helen! I know I have been very wrong, but you would not quite give me up, would you?—Oh! for my mother’s sake! Consider how it would be with my mother, so ill as you saw her! I am sure if anything broke out now in my mother’s state of health it would be fatal.”

Helen became excessively agitated.

“Oh, Helen! would you make me the death of that mother?—Oh, Helen, save her! and do what you will with me afterwards. It will be only for a few hours—only a few hours!” repeated Lady Cecilia, seeing that these words made a great impression upon Helen,—“Save me, Helen! save my mother.”

She sank upon her knees, clasping her hands in an agony of supplication. Helen bent down her head and was silent—she could no longer refuse. “Then I must,” said she.

“Oh thank you! bless you!” cried Lady Cecilia in an ecstasy—“you will take the letters?”

“Yes,” Helen feebly said; “yes, since it must be so.”

Cecilia embraced her, thanked her, blessed her, and hastily left the room, but in an instant afterward she returned, and said, “One thing I forgot, and I must tell you. Think of my forgetting it! The letters are not signed with my real name, they are signed Emma—Henry and Emma!—Oh folly, folly! My dear, dear friend! save me but now, and I never will be guilty of the least deception again during my whole life; believe me, believe me! When once my mother is safely gone I will tell Clarendon all. Look at me, dear Helen, look at me and believe me.”

And Helen looked at her, and Helen believed her.

Helen slept no more this night. When alone in the stillness of the long hours, she went over and over again all that had passed, what Cecilia had said, what she had at first thought and afterwards felt, all the persuasions by which she had been wrought upon, and, on the contrary, all the reasons by which she ought to be decided; backward and forward her mind vibrated, and its painful vacillation could not be stilled.

“What am I going to do? To tell a falsehood! That cannot be right; but in the circumstances—yet this is Cecilia’s own way of palliating the fault that her mother so fears in her—that her mother trusted to me to guard her against; and now, already, even before Lady Davenant has left us, I am going to assist Cecilia in deceiving her husband, and on that very dangerous point—Colonel D’Aubigny.” Lady Davenant’s foreboding having already been so far accomplished struck Helen fearfully, and her warning voice in the dead silence of that night sounded, and her look was upon her, so strongly, that she for an instant hid her head to get rid of her image. “But what 能够 I do? her own life is at stake! No less a motive could move me, but this ought—must—shall decide me. Yet, if Lady Davenant were to know it!—and I, in the last hours I have to pass with her—the last I ever may have with her, shall I deceive her? But it is not deceit, only prudence—necessary prudence; what a physician would order, what even humanity requires. I am satisfied it is quite right, quite, and I will go to sleep that I may be strong, and calm, and do it all well in the morning. After all, I have been too cowardly; frightening myself about nothing; too scrupulous—for what is it I have promised? only to receive the letters as if they were mine. Not to 对工资盗窃 that they are mine; he will not ask me, Cecilia thinks he will not ask me. But how can she tell? if he should, what 能够 I do? I must then answer that they are mine. Indeed it is the same thing, for I should lead him to believe it as much by my receiving them in silence; it will be telling or acting an absolute falsehood, and can that ever be right?” Back it came to the same point, and in vain her cheek settled on the pillow and she thought she could sleep. Then with closed eyes she considered how the general would look, and speak, or not speak. “What will he think of me when he sees the picture—the letters? for he must open the packet. But he will not read them, no, he is too honourable. I do not know what is in them. There can be nothing, however, but nonsense, Cecilia says; yet even so, love-letters he must know they are, and a clandestine correspondence. I heard him once express such contempt for any clandestine affair. He, who is so nice, so strict, about women’s conduct, how I shall sink in his esteem! Well, be it so, that concerns only myself; and it is for his own sake too, to save his happiness; and Cecilia, my dear Cecilia, oh I can bear it, and it will be a pride to me to bear it, for I am grateful; my gratitude shall not be only in words; now, when I am put to the trial, I can do something for my friends. Yes, and I will, let the consequences be what they may.” Yet Beauclerc! that thought was at the bottom of her heart; the fear, the almost certainty, that some way or other—every way in which she could think of it, it would lead to difficulty with Beauclerc. But this fear was mere selfishness, she thought, and to counteract it came all her generous, all her grateful, all her long-cherished, romantic love of sacrifice—a belief that she was capable of self-devotion for the friends she loved; and upon the strength of this idea she fixed at last. Quieted, she soothed herself to repose, and, worn out with reasoning or trying to reason in vain, she at last, in spite of the morning light dawning upon her through the unclosed shutters, in a soft sort of enthusiastic vision fading away, fell asleep.

She slept long; when she awoke it was with that indescribable feeling that something painful had happened—that something dreadful was to be this day. She recollected, first, that Lady Davenant was to go. Then came all that had passed with Cecilia. It was late, she saw that her maid had been in the room, but had refrained from awakening her; she rose, and dressed as fast as she could. She was to go to Lady Davenant, when her bell rang twice. How to appear before one who knew her countenance so well, without showing that any thing had happened, was her first difficulty. She looked in her glass to see whether there was any alteration in her face; none that she could see, but she was no judge. “How foolish to think so much about it all!” She dressed, and between times inquired from her maid if she had heard of any change in Lady Davenant’s intentions of going. Had any counter-orders about the carriage been given? None; it was ordered to be at the door by twelve o’clock. “That was well,” Helen said to herself. It would all soon be over. Lady Davenant would be safe, then she could bear all the rest; next she hoped, that any perturbation or extraordinary emotion in herself would not be observed in the hurry of departure, or would be thought natural at parting with Lady Davenant. “So then, I come at every turn to some little deceit,” thought she, “and I must, I must!” and she sighed.

“It is a sad thing for you, ma’am, Lady Davenant’s going away,” said her maid.

Helen sighed again. “Very sad indeed.” Suddenly a thought darted into her mind, that the whole danger might be avoided. A hope came that the general might not open the packet before Lady Davenant’s departure, in which case Cecilia could not expect that she should abide by her promise, as it was only conditional. It had been made really on her mother’s account; Cecilia had said that if once her mother was safe out of the house, she could then, and she would the very next day tell the whole to her husband. Helen sprang from under the hands of her maid as she was putting up her hair behind, and ran to Cecilia’s dressing-room, but she was not there. It was now her usual time for coming, and Helen left open the door between them, that she might go to her before Felicie should be rung for. She waited impatiently, but no Cecilia came. The time, to her impatience, seemed dreadfully long. But her maid observed, that as her ladyship had not been well yesterday, it was no wonder she was later this morning than usual.

“Very true, but there is somebody coming along the gallery now, see if that is Lady Cecilia.”

“No, ma’am, Mademoiselle Felicie.”

Mademoiselle Felicie said ditto to Helen’s own maid, and, moreover, supposed her lady might not have slept well. Just then, one little peremptory knock at the door was heard.

“Bon Dieu! C’est Monsieur le Général!” exclaimed Felicie.

It was so—Felicie went to the door and returned with the general’s compliments to Miss Stanley, and he begged to see her as soon as it might suit her convenience in the library, before she went into the breakfast-room, and after she should have seen Lady Cecilia, who wished to see her immediately.

Helen found Lady Cecilia in bed, looking as if she had been much agitated, two spots of carnation colour high up in her cheeks, a well-known sign in her of great emotion. “Helen!” she cried, starting up the moment Helen came in, “he has opened the packet, and you see me alive. But I do believe I should have died, when it came to the point, but for you—dearest Helen, I should have been, and still but for you I must be, undone—and my mother—oh! if he had gone to her!”

“What has happened, tell me clearly, my dear Cecilia, and quickly, for I must go to General Clarendon; he has desired to see me as soon as I can after seeing you.”

“I know, I know,” said Cecilia, “but he will allow time, and you had better be some time with me, for he thinks I have all to explain to you this morning—and so I have, a great deal to say to you; sit down—quietly—Oh if you knew how I have been agitated, I am hardly able yet tell anything rightly.” She threw herself back on the pillows, and drew a long breath, as if to relieve the oppression of mind and body. “Now I think I can tell it.”

“Then do, my dear Cecilia—all—pray do! and exactly—oh, Cecilia, tell me all.”

“Every word, every look, to the utmost, as far as I can recollect, as if you had been present. Give me your hand, Helen, how cool you are—delightful! but how you tremble!”

“Never mind,” said Helen; “but how burning hot your hand is!”

“No matter. If ever I am well or happy again in this world, Helen, I shall owe it to you. After I left you I found the general fast asleep, I do not believe he had ever awoke—I lay awake for hours, till past five o’clock in the morning, I was wide awake—feverish. But can you conceive it? just then, when I was most anxious to be awake, when I knew there was but one hour—not so much, till he would awake and read that packet, I felt an irresistible sleepiness come over me; I turned and turned, and tried to keep my eyes open, and pulled and pinched my fingers. But all would not do, and I fell asleep, dreaming that I was awake, and how long I slept I cannot tell you, so deep, so dead asleep I must have been; but the instant I did awake, I started up and drew back the curtain, and I saw—oh, Helen! there was Clarendon dressed—standing with his arms folded—a letter open hanging from his hand. His eyes were fixed upon me, waiting, watching for my first look: he saw me glance at the letter in his hand, and then at the packet on the table near the bed. For an instant neither of us spoke: I could not, nor exclaim even; but surprised, terrified, he must have seen I was. As I leaned forward, holding by the curtains, he pulled one of them suddenly back, threw open the shutters, and the full glare was upon my face. I shut my eyes—I could not help it—and shrank; but, gathering strength from absolute terror of his silence, I spoke: I asked, ‘For Heaven’s sake! Clarendon, what is the matter? Why do you look so?’

“Oh, that look of his! still fixed on me—the same as I once saw before we were married—once, and but once, when he came from my mother to me about this man. Well! I put my hands before my eyes; he stepped forward, drew them down, and placed the open letter before me, and then asked me, in a terrible sort of suppressed voice, ‘Cecilia, whose writing is this?’

“The writing was before my eyes, but I literally could not see it—it was all a sort of maze. He saw I could not read it, and calmly bade me ‘Take time—examine—is it a forgery?’

“A forgery!—that had never crossed my mind, and for an instant I was tempted to say it was; but quickly I saw that would not do: there was the miniature, and that could not be a forgery. ‘No,’ I answered, ‘I do not think it is a forgery.’

“‘What then?’ said he, so hastily that I could hardly hear; and before I could think what to answer, he said, ‘I must see Lady Davenant.’ He stepped towards the bell; I threw myself upon his arm—‘Good Heavens! do not, Clarendon, if you are not out of your senses.’ ‘I am not out of my senses, Cecilia, I am perfectly calm; answer me, one word only—is this your writing? Oh! my dear Helen, then it was that you saved me.’”

“一世！”

“Yes, forgive me, Helen, I answered, ‘There is a handwriting so like, that you never can tell it from mine. Ask me no more, Clarendon,’ I said.

“I saw a flash of light, as it were, come across his face—it was hope—but still it was not certainty. I saw this: oh! how quick one sees. He pointed to the first words of the letter, held his finger under them, and his hand trembled—think of his hand trembling! ‘Read,’ he said, and I read. How I brought myself to pronounce the words, I cannot imagine. I read what, as I hope for mercy, I had no recollection of ever having written—‘My dear, too dear Henry.’ ‘Colonel D’Aubigny?’ said the general. I answered, ‘Yes.’ He looked astonished at my self-possession—and so was I. For another instant his finger rested, pressing down there under the words, and his eyes on my face, as if he would have read into my soul. ‘Ask me no more,’ I repeated, scarcely able to speak; and something I said, I believe, about honour and not betraying you. He turned to the signature, and, putting his hand down upon it, asked, ‘What name is signed to this letter?’ I answered, I have seen—I know—I believe it is ‘Emma.’

“‘You knew then of this correspondence?’ was his next question. I confessed I did. He said that was wrong, ‘but quite a different affair’ from having been engaged in it myself, or some such word. His countenance cleared; that pale look of the forehead, the fixed purpose of the eye, changed. Oh! I could see—I understood it all with half a glance—saw the natural colour coming back, and tenderness for me returning—yet some doubt lingering still. He stood, and I heard some half-finished sentences. He said that you must have been very young at that time; I said, ‘Yes, very young:’—‘And the man was a most artful man,’ he observed; I said. ‘Yes, very artful.’ That was true, I am sure. Clarendon then recollected that you showed some emotion one day when Colonel D’Aubigny was first mentioned—at that time, you know, when we heard of his death. I said nothing. The general went on: ‘I could hardly have believed all this of Helen Stanley,’ he said. He questioned no farther:—and oh! Helen, what do you think I did next? but it was the only thing left me to put an end to doubts, which, to me, must have been fatal—forgive me, Helen!”

“Tell me what you did,” said Helen.

“Cannot you guess?”

“You told him positively that I wrote the letters?”

“No, not so bad, I never said that downright falsehood—no, I could not; but I did almost as bad.”

“Pray tell me at once, my dear Cecilia.”

“Then, in the first place, I stretched out my hand for the whole packet of letters which lay on the table untouched.”

“好？”

“Well, he put them into my hands and said, ‘There is no direction on these but to myself, I have not looked at any of them except this, which in ignorance I first opened; I have not read one word of any of the others.’”

“Well,” said Helen; “and what did you do?”

“I said I was not going to read any of the letters, that I was only looking for—now, Helen, you know—I told you there was something hard in the parcel, something more than papers, I was sure what it must be—the miniature—the miniature of you, which I painted, you know, that I might have it when you were gone, and which he stole, and pretended before my mother to be admiring as your likeness, but he kept it only because it was my painting. I opened the paper in which it was folded; Clarendon darted upon it—‘It is Helen!’ and then he said. ‘How like! how beautiful! how unworthy of that man!’

“But, oh, Helen, think of what an escape I had next. There was my name—my initials C. D. at the bottom of the picture, as the painter; and that horrible man, not content with his initials opposite to mine, had on the back written at full length, ‘For Henry D’Aubigny.’—Clarendon looked at it, and said between his teeth. ‘He is dead.’—‘Thank God!’ said I.

“Then he asked me, how I came to paint this picture for that man; I answered—oh how happy then it was for me that I could tell the whole truth about that at least!—I answered that I did not do the picture for Colonel D’Aubigny; that it never was given to him; that he stole it from my portfolio, and that we both did what we could to get it back again from him, but could not. And that you even wanted me to tell my mother, but of that I was afraid; and Clarendon said, ‘You were wrong there, my dear Cecilia.’

“I was so touched when I heard him call me his dear Cecilia again, and in his own dear voice, that I burst into tears. That was a great relief to me, and I kept saying over and over again, that I was wrong—very wrong indeed! and then he kneeled down beside me, and I so felt his tenderness, his confiding love for me—for me, unworthy as I am.” The tears streamed from Lady Cecilia’s eyes as she spoke—“Quite unworthy!”

“No, no, not quite unworthy,” said Helen; “my poor dear Cecilia, what you must have felt!”

“Once!” continued Cecilia—“once! Helen, as my head was lying on his shoulder, my face hid, I felt so much love, so much remorse, and knowing I had done nothing really bad, I was tempted to whisper all in his ear. I felt I should be so much happier for ever—ever—if I could!”

“Oh that you had! my dear Cecilia, I would give anything upon earth for your sake, that you had.”

“Helen, I could not—I could not. It was too late, I should have been undone if I had breathed but a word. When he even suspected the truth! that look—that voice was so terrible. To see it—hear it again! I could not—oh, Helen, it would have been utter ruin—madness. I grant you, my dear Helen, it might have been done at first, before I was married; oh would to heaven it had! but it is useless thinking of that now. Helen, my whole earthly happiness is in your hands, this is all I have to say, may I—may I depend on you?”

“Yes, yes, depend upon me, my dearest Cecilia,” said Helen; “now let me go.”

Lady Cecilia held her one instant longer, to say that she had asked Clarendon to leave it to her to return the letters, “to save you the embarrassment, my dearest Helen; but he answered he must do this himself, and I did not dare to press the matter; but you need not be alarmed, he will be all gentleness to you, he said, ‘it is so different.’ Do not be afraid.”

“Afraid for myself?” said Helen; “oh no—rest, dear Cecilia, and let me go.”

“Go then, go,” cried Cecilia; “but for you what would become of my mother!—of me!—you save us all.”

Believing this, Helen hastened to accomplish her purpose; resolved to go through with it, whatever it might cost; her scruples vanished, and she felt a sort of triumphant pleasure in the courage of sacrificing herself.

General Clarendon was sitting in the music-room, within the library, the door open, so that he could see Helen the moment she came in, and that moment he threw down his book as he rose, and their eyes met: hers fell beneath his penetrating glance; he came forward immediately to meet her, with the utmost gentleness and kindness in his whole appearance and manner, took her hand, and, drawing her arm within his, said, in the most encouraging voice, “Consider me as your brother, Helen; you know you have allowed me so to feel for you, and so, believe me, I do feel.”

This kindness quite overcame her, and she burst into tears. He hurried her across the library, into the inner room, seated her, and when he had closed the door, stood beside her, and began, as if he had been to blame, to apologise for himself.

“You must have been surprised at my having opened letters which did not belong to me, but there was no direction, no indication that could stop me. They were simply in a cover directed to me. The purpose of whoever sent them must have been to make me read them; the ultimate purpose was, I doubt not, to ruin Lady Cecilia Clarendon in my opinion.”

“Or me,” said Helen.

“No, Miss Stanley, no, that at all events cannot be,” said the general. “Supposing the letters to be acknowledged by you, still it would be quite a different affair. But in the first place look at them, they may be forgeries. You will tell me if they are forgeries?”

And he placed the packet in her hands. Scarcely looking at the writing, she answered, “No, forgeries I am sure they are not.” The general looked again at the direction of the cover, and observed, “This is a feigned hand. Whose can it be?”

Helen was on the brink of saying that Cecilia had told her it was like the writing of Carlos. Now this cover had not, to the general’s knowledge, been seen by Cecilia, and that one answer might have betrayed all that she was to conceal, for he would instantly have asked how and when did Cecilia see it, and the cause of her fainting would have been then understood by him. Such hazards in every, even the first, least, step in falsehood; such hazard in this first moment! But she escaped this peril, and Helen answered: “It is something like the writing of the page Carlos, but I do not think all that direction is his. There seem to be two different hands. I do not know, indeed, how it is?”

“Some time or other it will come out,” said the general.

“I will keep this cover, it will lead to the direction of that boy, or of whoever it was that employed him.”

To give her further time the general went on looking at the miniature, which he held in his hand. “This is a beautiful likeness,” said he, “and not ill painted—by Cecilia, was not it?”

Helen looked at it, and answered, “Yes, by Cecilia.”

“I am glad it is safe,” said the general, “restored—Cecilia told me the history. I know that it was stolen, not given by you.”

“Given!” said Helen. “Oh no! stolen.”

“Base!” said the general.

“He was base,” answered Helen.

General Clarendon held in his hand, along with the picture, one letter separated from the rest, open; he looked at it as if embarrassed, while Helen spoke the last words, and he repeated, “Base! yes, he certainly was, or he would have destroyed these letters.”

Again Helen was on the point of saying that Colonel D’Aubigny had told Cecilia he had done so, but fortunately her agitation, in default of presence of mind, kept her silent.

“This is the first letter I opened,” said the general, “before I was aware that they were not what I should read. I saw only the first words, I thought then that I had a right to read them. When these letters met my eyes, I conceived them to have been written by my wife. I had a right to satisfy myself respecting the nature of the correspondence; that done, I looked no farther. I bore my suspense—I waited till she awoke.”

“So she told me, Cecilia has told me all; but even if she had not, in any circumstances who could doubt your honour, General Clarendon?”

“Then trust to it, Miss Stanley, for the past, for the future, trust to it! You gratify me more than I can express—you do me justice. I wished to return these letters to you with, my own hand,” continued he, “to satisfy myself, in the first place, that there was no mistake. Of that your present candour, indeed, the first look of that ingenuous countenance, was sufficient.”

Helen felt that she blushed all over.

“Pardon me for distressing you, my dear Helen. It was a matter in which a man MUST be selfish, 必须 in point of honour, 必须 in point of feeling, I owe to your candour not merely relief from what I could not endure and live, but relief from suspicion,—suspicion of the truth of one dearer to me than life.”

Helen sat as if she had been transfixed.

“I owe to you,” continued he, “the happiness of my whole future life.”

“Then I am happy,” cried Helen, “happy in this, at all events, whatever may become of me.”

She had not yet raised her eyes towards the general; she felt as if her first look must betray Cecilia; but she now tried to fix her eyes upon him as he looked anxiously at her, and she said, “thank you, thank you, General Clarendon! Oh, thank you for all the kindness you have shown me; but I am the more grieved, it makes me more sorry to sink quite in your esteem.”

“To sink! You do not: your candour, your truth raises you——”

“Oh! do not say that——”

“I do,” repeated the general, “and you may believe me. I am incapable of deceiving you—this is no matter of compliment. Between friend and friend I should count a word, a look of falsehood, treason.”

Helen’s tears stopped, and, without knowing what she did, she began hastily to gather up the packet of letters which she had let fall; the general assisted her in putting them into her bag, and she closed the strings, thanked him, and was rising, when he went on—“I beg your indulgence while I say a few words of myself.”

She sat down again immediately. “Oh! as many as you please.”

“I believe I may say I am not of a jealous temper.”

“I am sure you are not,” said Helen.

“I thank you,” said the general. “May I ask on what your opinion is founded?”

“On what has now passed, and on all that I have heard from Lady Davenant.”

He bowed. “You may have heard then, from Lady Davenant, of some unfortunate circumstances in my own and in a friend’s family which happened a short time before my marriage?”

Helen said she had.

“And of the impression these circumstances made on my mind, my consequent resolve never to marry a woman who had ever had any previous attachment?”

Helen was breathless at hearing all this repeated.

“Were you informed of these particulars?” said the general.

“Yes,” said Helen, faintly.

“I am not asking, Miss Stanley, whether you approved of my resolution; simply whether you heard of it?”

“Yes—certainly.”

“That’s well. It was on an understanding between Cecilia and myself on this point, that I married. Did you know this?”

“Yes,” said Helen.

“Some words,” continued the general, “once fell from Lady Davenant concerning this Colonel D’Aubigny which alarmed me. Cecilia satisfied me that her mother was mistaken. Cecilia solemnly assured me that she had never loved him.” The general paused.

Helen, conceiving that he waited for and required her opinion, replied, “So I always thought—so I often told Lady Davenant.” But at this moment recollecting the words at the beginning of that letter, “My dear, too dear Henry,” Helen’s voice faltered. The general saw her confusion, but attributed it to her own consciousness. “Had Lady Davenant not been mistaken,” resumed he, “that is to say had there ever been—as might have happened not unnaturally—had there ever been an attachment; in short, had Cecilia ever loved him, and told me so, I am convinced that such truth and candour would have satisfied me, would have increased—as I now feel—increased my esteem. I am at this moment convinced that, in spite of my declared resolution, I should in perfect confidence, have married.”

“Oh that Cecilia had but told him!” thought Helen.

“I should not, my dear Miss Stanley,” continued the general, “have thus taken up your time talking of myself, had I not an important purpose in view. I was desirous to do away in your mind the idea of my great strictness—not on my own account, but on yours, I wished to dispel this notion. Now you will no longer, I trust, apprehend that my esteem for you is diminished. I assure you I can make allowances.”

She was shocked at the idea of allowances, yet thanked him for his indulgence, and she could hardly refrain from again bursting into tears.

“Still by your agitation I see you are afraid of me,” said he, smiling.

“No indeed; not afraid of you, but shocked at what you must think of me.”

“I am not surprised, but sorry to see that the alarm I gave my poor Cecilia this morning has passed from her mind into yours. To her I must have appeared harsh: I 是 severe; but when I thought I had been deceived, duped, can you wonder?”

Helen turned her eyes away.

“My dear Miss Stanley, why will not you distinguish? the cases are essentially different. Nine out of ten of the young ladies who marry in these countries do not marry the first object of their fancy, and whenever there is, as there will be, I am sure, in your case, perfect candour, I do not apprehend the slightest danger to the happiness of either party. On the contrary, I should foretell an increase of esteem and love. Beauclerc has often——”

Beauclerc’s voice was at this instant heard in the hall.

“Compose yourself, my dear Miss Stanley—this way,” said the general, opening a door into the conservatory, for he heard Beauclerc’s step now in the library. The general followed Helen as she left the room, and touching the bag that contained the letters, said,

“Remember, whatever may be your hurry, lock this up first.”

“Thank you,” answered she; “I will, I will!” and she hastened on, and in a moment she was safe across the hall and upstairs, without meeting any one, and in her own room, and the bag locked up in her cabinet. Lady Davenant’s bell rang as she went to her apartment; she looked in at Cecilia, who started up in her bed.

“All is over,” said Helen, “all is well. I have the letters locked up; I cannot stay.”

Helen disengaged herself almost forcibly from Cecilia’s embrace, and she was in Lady Davenant’s room in another minute. She bade her good morning as composedly as she could, she thought quite as usual. But that was impossible: so much the better, for it would not have been natural this last morning of Lady Davenant’s stay, when nothing was as usual externally or internally. All was preparation for departure—her maids packing—Lady Davenant, making some last arrangements—in the midst of which she stopped to notice Helen—pressed her in her arms, and after looking once in her face, said, “My poor child! it must be so.”

Elliott interrupted, asking some question, purposely to draw off her attention; and while she turned about to give some orders to another servant, Elliott said to Miss Stanley, “My Lady was not well last night; she must be kept from all that can agitate her, as much as possible.”

Helen at that instant rejoiced that she had done what she had. She agreed with Elliott, she said, that all emotion which could be avoided should; and upon this principle busied herself, and was glad to employ herself in whatever she could to assist the preparations, avoiding all conversation with Lady Davenant.

“You are right, my love—quite right,” said Lady Davenant. “The best way is always to employ one’s self always to the last. Yes, put up those drawings carefully, in this portfolio, Elliott; take silver paper, Helen.”

They were Helen’s own drawings, so all went on, and all was safe—even when Cecilia was spoken of; while the silver paper went over the drawings, Helen answered that she had seen her. “She was not well, but still not seriously ill, though—”

“Yes,” said Lady Davenant; “only the general is too anxious about her—very naturally. He sent me word just now,” continued she, “that he has forbidden her to get up before breakfast. I will go and see her now; dear Cecilia! I hope she will do well—every way—I feel sure of it, Helen—sure as you do yourself, my dear—But what is the matter?”

“Nothing!” said Helen. That was not quite true; but she could not help it—“Nothing!” repeated she. “Only I am anxious, my dear Lady Davenant,” continued poor Helen blundering, unaccustomed to evasions—“only I am very anxious you should go soon to Cecilia; I know she is awake now, and you will be hurried after breakfast.”

Elliott looked reproachfully at Miss Stanley, for she thought it much better for her lady to be engaged in more indifferent matters till after breakfast, when she would have but a few minutes to spend with her daughter; so Helen, correcting herself, added—“But, perhaps I’m wrong, so do not let me interrupt you in whatever you are doing.”

“My dear child,” said Lady Davenant; “you do not know what you are saying or doing yourself this morning.”

But no suspicion was excited in her mind, as she accounted for Helen’s perturbation by the sorrow of their approaching separation, and by the hurry of her spirits at Beauclerc’s arrival the day before. And then came the meeting the general at breakfast, which Helen dreaded; but so composed, so impenetrable was he that she could hardly believe that anything could have occurred that morning to agitate him.

Lady Davenant, after being with her daughter, came to take leave of Helen, and said gravely, “Helen! remember what I said of Cecilia’s truth, my trust is in you. Remember, if I never see you again, by all the love and esteem I bear you, and all which you feel for me, remember this my last request—prayer—adjuration to you, support, save Cecilia!”

At that moment the general came to announce that the carriage was ready; promptly he led her away, handed her in and the order to “drive on,” was given. Lady Davenant’s last look, her last anxious smile, was upon Helen and Beauclerc as they stood beside each other on the steps, and she was gone.

Helen was so excessively agitated that Beauclerc did not attempt to detain her from hurrying to her own room, where she sat down, and endeavoured to compose herself. She repeated Lady Davenant’s last words, “Support, save Cecilia,” and, unlocking the cabinet in which she had deposited the fatal letters, she seized the bag that contained them, and went immediately to Cecilia. She was in her dressing-room, and the general sitting beside her on the sofa, upon which she was resting. He was sitting directly opposite to Helen as she entered; she started at the sight of him: his eye instantly fell upon the bag, and she felt her face suddenly flush. He took out his watch, said he had an appointment, and was gone before Helen raised her eyes.

“My dearest friend, come to me, come close to me,” cried Cecilia, and throwing her arms round Helen, she said, “Oh, I am the happiest creature now!”

“Are you?” said Helen.

“Yes, that I am, and I thank you for it; how much I thank you, Helen, it is impossible to express, and better I love you than anything upon earth but Clarendon himself, my best friend, my generous Helen. Oh, Clarendon has been so kind, so very kind! so sorry for having alarmed me! He is a noble, charming creature. I love him a thousand times better than I ever did, am happier than I ever was! and all this I owe to you, dearest Helen. But I cannot get your eyes from that bag,—what have you there?”

“The letters,” said Helen.

“The letters!” exclaimed Cecilia, springing up, “give them to me,” seizing and opening the bag. “Oh that dreadful perfume! Helen open the window, and bolt the door, my dear—both doors.”

While Helen was doing so, Cecilia struck one little quick blow on a taper-lighter; it flared, and when Helen turned, one of the letters was in flames, and Cecilia continued feeding the flame with them as fast as ever it could devour.

“Burn! burn! there, there!” cried she, “I would not look at any one of them again for the world; I know no more what is in them than if I had never written them, except those horrid, horrid words Clarendon saw and showed me. I cannot bear to think of it. There now,” continued she, as they burned, “no one can ever know anything more about the matter: how glad I am to see them burning!—burnt! safe! The smell will go off in a minute or two. It is going,—yes, gone! is not it? Now we may breathe freely. But you look as if you did not know whether you were glad or sorry, Helen.”

“I believe it was right; the general advised me to lock, them up,” said Helen, “but then—”

“Did he? how thoughtful of him! But better to burn them at once; I am sure it was not my fault that they were not long ago destroyed. I was assured by that abominable man—but no matter, we will never think of him again. It is done now—no, not completely yet,” said she, looking close at the half white, half black burnt paper, in which words, and whole lines still appeared in shrunken but yet quite legible characters. “One cannot be too careful,” and she trampled on the burnt paper, and scattered the cinders. Helen was anxious to speak, she had something important to say, but hesitated; she saw that Cecilia’s thoughts were so far from what she wanted to speak of that she could not instantly say it; she could not bear to overturn all Cecilia’s present happiness, and yet, said to herself, I must—I must—or what may happen hereafter? Then forcing herself to speak, she began, “Your mother is safe now, Cecilia.”

“Oh yes, and thank you, thank you for that—”

“Then now, Cecilia—your promise.”

“My promise!” Lady Cecilia’s eyes opened in unfeigned astonishment. “What promise?—Oh, I recollect, I promised—did I?”

“My dear Cecilia, surely you cannot have forgotten.”

“它曾是怎样的？”

“You know the reason I consented was to prevent the danger of any shock to Lady Davenant.”

“Well, I know, but what did I promise?”

The words had in reality passed Lady Cecilia’s lips at the time without her at all considering them as a promise, only as a means of persuasion to bring Helen to her point.

“What did I promise?” repeated she. “You said, ‘As soon as my mother is safe, as soon as she is gone, I will tell my husband all,’—Cecilia, you cannot forget what you promised.”

“Oh, no, now I remember it perfectly, but I did not mean so soon. I never imagined you would claim it so soon: but some time I certainly will tell him all.”

“Do not put it off, dearest Cecilia. It must be done—let it be done to-day.”

“To-day!” Lady Cecilia almost screamed.

“I will tell you why,” said Helen.

“To-day!” repeated Lady Cecilia.

“If we let the present 现在 pass,” continued Helen, “we shall lose both the power and the opportunity, believe me.”

“I have not the power, Helen, and I do not know what you mean by the opportunity,” said Cecilia.

“We have a reason now to give General Clarendon—a true good reason, for what we have done.”

“Reason!” cried Lady Cecilia, “what can you mean?”

“That it was to prevent danger to your mother, and now she is safe; and if you tell him directly, he will see this was, really so.”

“That is true; but I cannot—wait till to-morrow, at least.”

“Every day will make it more difficult. The deception will be greater, and less pardonable. If we delay, it will become deliberate falsehood, a sort of conspiracy between us,” said Helen.

“Conspiracy! Oh, Helen, do not use such a shocking word, when it is really nothing at all.”

“Then why not tell it?” urged Helen.

“Because, though it is nothing at all in reality, yet Clarendon would think it dreadful—though I have done nothing really wrong.”

“So I say—so I know,” cried Helen; “therefore——”

“Therefore let me take my own time,” said Cecilia. “How can you urge me so, hurrying me so terribly, and when I am but just recovered from one misery, and when you had made me so happy, and when I was thanking you with all my heart.”

Helen was much moved, but answered as steadily as she could. “It seems cruel, but indeed I am not cruel.”

“When you had raised me up,” continued Cecilia, “to dash me down again, and leave me worse than ever!”

“Not worse—no, surely not worse, when your mother is safe.”

“Yes, safe, thank you—but oh, Helen, have you no feeling for your own Cecilia?”

“The greatest,” answered Helen; and her tears said the rest.

“You, Helen! I never could have thought you would have urged me so!”

“O Cecilia! if you knew the pain it was to me to make you unhappy again,—but I assure you it is for your own sake. Dearest Cecilia, let me tell you all that General Clarendon said about it, and then you will know my reasons.” She repeated as quickly as she could, all that had passed between her and the general, and when she came to this declaration that, if Cecilia had told him plainly the fact before, he would have married with perfect confidence, and, as he believed, with increased esteem and love: Cecilia started up from the sofa on which she had thrown herself, and exclaimed,

“O that I had but known this at the time, and I 将 have told him.”

“It is still time,” said Helen.

“Time now?—impossible. His look this morning. Oh! that look!”

“But what is one look, my dear Cecilia, compared with a whole life of confidence and happiness?”

“A life of happiness! never, never for me; in that way at least, never.”

“In that way and no other, Cecilia, believe me. I am certain you never could endure to go on concealing this, living with him you love so, yet deceiving him.”

“Deceiving! do not call it deceiving, it is only suppressing a fact that would give him pain; and when he can have no suspicion, why give him that pain? I am afraid of nothing now but this timidity of yours—this going back. Just before you came in, Clarendon was saying how much he admired your truth and candour, how much he is obliged to you for saving him from endless misery; he said so to me, that was what made me so completely happy. I saw that it was all right for you as well as me, that you had not sunk, that you had risen in his esteem.”

“But I must sink, Cecilia, in his esteem, and now it hangs upon a single point—upon my doing what I cannot do.” Then she repeated what the general had said about that perfect openness which he was sure there would be in this case between her and Beauclerc. “You see what the general expects that I should do.”

“Yes,” said Cecilia; and then indeed she looked much disturbed. “I am very sorry that this notion of your telling Beauclerc came into Clarendon’s head—very, very sorry, for he will not forget it. And yet, after all,” continued she, “he will never ask you point blank, ‘Have you told Beauclerc?’—and still more impossible that he should ask Beauclerc about it.”

“Cecilia!” said Helen, “if it were only for myself I would say no more; there is nothing I would not endure—that I would not sacrifice—even my utmost happiness.”—She stopped, and blushed deeply.

“Oh, my dearest Helen! do you think I could let you ever hazard that? If I thought there was the least chance of injuring you with Granville!—I would do any thing—I would throw myself at Clarendon’s feet this instant.”

“This instant—I wish he was here,” cried Helen.

“Good Heavens! do you?” cried Lady Cecilia, looking at the door with terror—she thought she heard his step.

“Yes, if you would but tell him—O let me call him!”

“Oh no, no! Spare me—spare me, I cannot speak now. I could not utter the words; I should not know what words to use. Tell him if you will, I cannot.”

“May I tell him?” said Helen, eagerly.

“No, no—that would be worse; if anybody tells him it must be myself.”

“Then you will now—when he comes in?”

“He is coming!” cried Cecilia.

General Clarendon came to the door—it was bolted.

“In a few minutes,” said Helen. Lady Cecilia did not speak, but listened, as in agony, to his receding footsteps.

“In a few minutes, Helen, did you say?—then there is nothing for me now, but to die—I wish I could die—I wish I was dead.”

Helen felt she was cruel, she began to doubt her own motives; she thought she had been selfish in urging Cecilia too strongly; and, going to her kindly, she said, “Take your own time, my dear Cecilia: only tell him—tell him soon.”

“I will, I will indeed, when I can—but now I am quite exhausted.”

“You are indeed,” said Helen, “how cruel I have been!—how pale you are!”

Lady Cecilia lay down on the sofa, and Helen covered her with a soft India shawl, trembling so much herself that she could hardly stand.

“Thank you, thank you, dear, kind Helen; tell him I am going to sleep, and I am sure I hope I shall.”

Helen closed the shutters—she had now done all she could; she feared she had done too much; and as she left the room, she said to herself,—“Oh, Lady Davenant! if you could see—if you knew—what it cost me!”

The overwrought state of Helen’s feelings was relieved by a walk with Beauclerc, not in the dressed part of the park, but in what was generally undiscovered country: a dingle, a bosky dell, which he had found out in his rambles, and which, though so little distant from the busy hum of men, had a wonderful air of romantic seclusion and stillness—the stillness of evening. The sun had not set; its rich, red light yet lingered on the still remaining autumn tints upon the trees. The birds hopped fearlessly from bough to bough, as if this sweet spot were all their own. The cattle were quietly grazing below, or slowly winding their way to the watering-place. By degrees, the sounds of evening faded away upon the ear; a faint chirrup here and there from the few birds not yet gone to roost, and now only the humming of the flies over the water were to be heard.

It was perfect repose, and Beauclerc and Helen sat down on the bank to enjoy it together. The sympathy of the woman he loved, especially in his enjoyment of the beauties of nature, was to Beauclerc an absolute necessary of life. Nor would he have been contented with that show taste for the picturesque, which is, as he knew, merely one of a modern young lady’s many accomplishments. Helen’s taste was natural, and he was glad to feel it so true, and for him here alone expressed with such peculiar heightened feeling, as if she had in all nature now a new sense of delight. He had brought her here, in hopes that she would be struck with this spot, not only because it was beautiful in itself, and his discovery, but because it was like another bushy dell and bosky bourne, of which he had been from childhood fond, in another place, of which he hoped she would soon be mistress. “Soon! very soon, Helen!” he repeated, in a tone which could not be heard by her with indifference. He said that some of his friends in London told him that the report of their intended union had been spread everywhere—(by Lady Katrine Hawksby probably, as Cecilia, when Lady Castlefort departed, had confided to her, to settle her mind about Beauclerc, that he was coming over as Miss Stanley’s acknowledged lover). And since the report had been so spread, the sooner the marriage took place the better; at least, it was a plea which Beauclerc failed not to urge, and Helen’s delicacy failed not to feel.

She sighed—she smiled. The day was named—and the moment she consented to be his, nothing could be thought of but him. Yet, even while he poured out all his soul—while he enjoyed the satisfaction there is in perfect unreservedness of confidence, Helen felt a pang mix with her pleasure. She felt there was one thing 她 可以 不能 tell him: he who had told her every thing—all his faults, and follies. “Oh! why,” thought she, “why cannot I tell him every thing? I, who have no secrets of my own—why should I be forced to keep the secrets of another?” In confusion, scarcely finished, these ideas came across her mind, and she sighed deeply. Beauclerc asked why, and she could not tell him! She was silent; and he did not reiterate the indiscreet question. He was sure she thought of Lady Davenant; and he now spoke of the regret he felt that she could not be present at their marriage, and Lord Davenant too! Beauclerc said he had hoped that Lord Davenant, who loved Helen as if she were his own daughter, would have been the person to act as her father at the ceremony. But the general, his friend and her’s, would now, Beauclerc said, give her to him; and would, he was sure, take pleasure in thus publicly marking his approbation of his ward’s choice.

They rose, and going on down the path to the river’s side, they reached a little cove where he had moored his boat, and they returned home by water—the moon just visible, the air so still; all so placid, so delightful, and Beauclerc so happy, that she could not but be happy; yes—quite happy too. They reached the shore just as the lamps were lighting in the house. As they went in, they met the general, who said, “In good time;” and he smiled on Helen as she passed.

“It is all settled,” whispered Beauclerc to him; “and you are to give her away.”

“With pleasure,” said the general.

As Helen went up-stairs, she said to herself, “I understand the general’s smile; he thinks I have followed his advice; he thinks I have told all—and I—I can only be silent.”

There was a great dinner party, but the general, not thinking Cecilia quite equal to it, had engaged Mrs. Holdernesse, a relation of his own, to do the honours of the day.

Lady Cecilia came into the drawing-room in the evening; but, after paying her compliments to the company, she gladly followed the general’s advice, and retired to the music-room: Helen went with her, and Beauclerc followed. Lady Cecilia sat down to play at ecarté with him, and Helen tuned her harp. The general came in for a few minutes, he said, to escape from two young ladies, who had talked him half dead about craniology. He stood leaning on the mantelpiece, and looking over the game. Lady Cecilia wanted counters, and she begged Beauclerc to look for some which she believed he would find in the drawer of a table that was behind him. Beauclerc opened the drawer, but no sooner had he done so, than, in admiration of something he discovered there, he exclaimed, “Beautiful! beautiful! and how like!” It was the miniature of Helen, and besides the miniature, further back in the drawer, Lady Cecilia saw—how quick is the eye of guilty fear!—could it be?—yes—one of the fatal letters—此 letter! Nothing but the picture had yet been seen by the general or by Beauclerc: Lady Cecilia stretched behind her husband, whose eyes were upon the miniature, and closed the drawer. It was all she could do, it was impossible for her to reach the letter.

Beauclerc, holding the picture to the light, repeated, “Beautiful! who did it? whom is it for? General, look! do you know it?”

“Yes, to be sure,” replied the general; “Miss Stanley.”

“You have seen it before?”

“Yes,” said the general, coldly. “It is very like. Who did it?”

“I did it,” cried Lady Cecilia, who now recovered her voice.

“You, my dear Lady Cecilia! Whom for? for me? is it for me?”

“For you? It may be, hereafter, perhaps.”

“Oh thank you, my dear Lady Cecilia!” cried Beauclerc.

“If you behave well, perhaps,” added she.

The general heard in his wife’s tremulous tone, and saw in her half confusion, half attempt at playfulness, only an amiable anxiety to save her friend, and to give her time to recover from her dismay. He at once perceived that Helen had not followed the course he had suggested; that she had not told Beauclerc, and did not intend that he should be told the whole truth. The general looked extremely grave; Beauclerc gave a glance round the room. “Here is some mystery,” said he, now first seeing Helen’s disconcerted countenance. Then he turned on the general a look of eager inquiry. “Some mystery, certainly,” said he, “with which I am not to be made acquainted?”

“If there be any mystery,” said the general, “with which you are not to be made acquainted, I am neither the adviser nor abettor. Neither in jest nor earnest am I ever an adviser of mystery.”

While her husband thus spoke, Lady Cecilia made another attempt to possess herself of the letter. This time she rose decidedly, and, putting aside the little ecarté table which was in her way, pressed forward to the drawer, saying something about “counters.” Her Cachemere caught on Helen’s harp, and, in her eager spring forward, it would have been overset, but that the general felt, turned, and caught it.

“What are you about, my dear Cecilia?—what do you want?”

“Nothing, nothing, thank you, my dear; nothing now.”

Then she did not dare to open the drawer, or to let him open it, and anxiously drew away his attention by pointing to a footstool which she seemed to want.

“Could not you ask me for it, my dear, without disturbing yourself? What are men made for?”

Beauclerc, after a sort of absent effort to join in quest of the footstool, had returned eagerly to the picture, and looking at it more closely, he saw the letters C.D. written in small characters in one corner; and, just as his eye turned to the other corner, Lady Cecilia, recollecting what initials were there, started up and snatched it from his hand. “Oh, Granville!” cried she, “you must not look at this picture any more till I have done something to it.” Beauclerc was trying to catch another look at it, when Cecilia cried out, “Take it, Helen! take it!” and she held it up on high, but as she held it, though she turned the face from him, she forgot, quite forgot that Colonel D’Aubigny had written his name on the back of the picture; and there it was in distinct characters such as could be plainly read at that height, “针对 Henry D’Aubigny.” Beauclerc saw, and gave one glance at Helen. He made no further attempt to reach the picture. Lady Cecilia, not aware of what he had seen, repeated, “Helen! Helen! why don’t you take it?—now! now!”

Helen could not stir. The general took the picture from his wife’s hand, gave it to Miss Stanley, without looking at her, and said to Lady Cecilia, “Pray keep yourself quiet, Cecilia. You have done enough, too much to-day; sit down,” said he, rolling her arm-chair close, and seating her. “Keep yourself quiet, I beg.”—“I beg,” in the tone of “I insist.”

She sat down, but catching a view of Beauclerc was alarmed by his aspect—and Helen! her head was bent down behind the harp. Lady Cecilia did not know yet distinctly what had happened. The general pressed her to lean back on the cushions which he was piling up behind her. Beauclerc made a step towards Helen, but checking himself, he turned to the ecarté table. “Those counters, after all, that we were looking for—” As he spoke he pulled open the drawer. The general with his back to him was standing before Lady Cecilia, she could not see what Beauclerc was doing, but she heard the drawer open, and cried out. “Not there, Beauclerc; no counters there—you need not look there.” But before she spoke, he had given a sudden pull to the drawer, which brought it quite out, and all the contents fell upon the floor, and there was the fatal letter, open, and the words “My dear, too dear Henry” instantly met his eyes; he looked no farther, but in that single glance the writing seemed to him to be Lady Cecilia’s, and quick his eye turned upon her. She kept perfectly quiet, and appeared to him perfectly composed. His eye then darted in search of Helen; she had sunk upon a seat behind the harp. Through the harp-strings he caught a glimpse of her face, all pale—crimsoned it grew as he advanced: she rose instantly, took up the letter, and, without speaking or looking at any one, tore it to pieces. Beauclerc in motionless astonishment. Lady Cecilia breathed again. The general’s countenance expressed “I interfere no farther.” He left the room; and Beauclerc, without another look at Helen, followed him.

For some moments after Lady Cecilia and Helen were left alone, there was a dead silence. Lady Cecilia sat with her eyes fixed upon the door through which her husband and Beauclerc had passed. She thought that Beauclerc might return; but when she found that he did not, she went to Helen, who had covered her face with her hands.

“My dearest friend,” said Lady Cecilia, “thank you! thank you!—you did the best that was possible!”

“O Cecilia!” exclaimed Helen, “to what have you exposed me?”

“How did it all happen?” continued Cecilia. “Why was not that letter burnt with the rest? How came it there? Can you tell me?”

“I do not know,” said Helen, “I cannot recollect.” But after some effort, she remembered that in the morning, while the general had been talking to her, she had in her confusion, when she took the packet, laid the picture and that letter beside her on the arm of the chair. She had, in her hurry of putting the other letters into her bag, forgotten this and the picture, and she supposed that they had fallen between the chair and the wall, and that they had been found and put into the table-drawer by one of the servants.

Helen was hastening out of the room, Cecilia detained her. “Do not go, my dear, for that would look as if you were guilty, and you know you are innocent. At the first sound of your harp Beauclerc will return—only command yourself for one hour or two.”

“Yes, it will only be for an hour or two,” said Helen, brightening with hope. “You will tell the general to-night Do you think Granville will come back? Where is the harp key?—I dropped it—here it is.” She began to tune the harp. Crack went one string—then another. “That is lucky,” said Lady Cecilia, “it will give you something to do, my love, if the people come in.”

The aide-de-camp entered. “I thought I heard harp-strings going,” said he.

“Several!—yes,” said Lady Cecilia, standing full in his way.

“Inauspicious sounds for us! had omens for my embassy.—Mrs. Holdernesse sent me.”

“I know,” said Lady Cecilia, “and you will have the goodness to tell her that Miss Stanley’s harp is unstrung.”

“Can I be of any use, Miss Stanley?” said he, moving towards the harp.

“No, no,” cried Lady Cecilia, “you are in my service,—attend to me.”

“Dear me, Lady Cecilia! I did not hear what you said.”

“That is what I complain of—hear me now.”

“I am all attention, I am sure. What are your commands?”

She gave him as many as his head could hold. A long message to Mrs. Holdernesse, and to Miss Holdernesse and Miss Anna about their music-books, which had been left in the carriage, and were to be sent for, and duets to be played, and glees, for the major and Lady Anne Ruthven.

“Good Heavens! I cannot remember any more,” cried the aide-de-camp.

“Then go off, and say and do all that before you come back again,” said Lady Cecilia.

“What amazing presence of mind you have!” said Helen. “How can you say so much, and think of every thing!”

The aide-de-camp performed all her behests to admiration, and was rewarded by promotion to the high office of turner-over general of the leaves of the music books, an office requiring, as her ladyship remarked to Miss Holdernesse, prompt eye and ear, and all his distinguished gallantry. By such compliments she fixed him to the piano-forte, while his curiosity and all his feelings, being subordinate to his vanity, were prevented from straying to Miss Stanley and her harp-stringing, a work still doing—still to do.

All the arrangement succeeded as Lady Cecilia’s arrangements usually did. Helen heard the eternal buzz of conversation and the clang of instruments, and then the harmony of music, all as in a dream, or as at the theatre, when the thoughts are absent or the feelings preoccupied; and in this dreamy state she performed the operation of putting in the harp-strings quite well: and when she was at last called upon by Cecilia, who gave her due notice and time, she sat and played automatically, without soul or spirit—but so do so many others. It passed “charmingly,” till a door softly opened behind her, and she saw the shadow on the wall, and some one stood, and passed from behind her. There was an end of her playing; however, from her just dread of making a scene, she commanded herself so powerfully, that, except her timidity, nothing was observed by the company, and that timidity was pitied by the good-natured Mrs. Holdernesse, who said to her daughter, “Anne, we must not press Miss Stanley any more; she, who is always so obliging, is tired now.” She then made way for Helen to pass, who, thanking her with such a look as might be given for a life saved, quitted the harp, and the crowd, closing behind her, happily thought of her no more. She retreated to the darkest part of the room, and sat down. She did not dare to look towards what she most wished to see. Her eyes were fixed upon the face of the young lady singing, and yet she saw not one feature of that face, while she knew, without looking, or seeming to look, exactly where Beauclerc stood. He had stationed himself in a doorway into the drawing-room; there, leaning back against the wall, he stood, and never stirred. Helen was so anxious to get one clear view of the expression of his countenance, that at last she ventured to move a little, and from behind the broad back of a great man she looked: Beauclerc’s eyes met hers. How different from their expression when they were sitting on the bank together but a few short hours before! He left the doorway instantly, and placed himself where Helen could see him no more.

Of all the rest of what passed this evening she knew nothing; she felt only a sort of astonishment at everybody’s gaiety, and a sense of the time being intolerably long. She thought that all these people never would go away—that their carriages never would be announced. But before it came to that time, General Clarendon insisted upon Lady Cecilia’s retiring. “I must,” said he, “play the tyrant, Cecilia; you have done too much to-day—Mrs. Holdernesse shall hold your place.” He carried Cecilia off, and Helen thought, or fancied, that he looked about for her. Glad to escape, she followed close behind. The general did not offer his arm or appear to notice her. When she came to the door leading to the staircase, there was Beauclerc, standing with folded arms, as in the music-room; he just bowed his head, and wished Lady Cecilia a good night, and waited, without a word, for Helen to pass, or not to pass, as she thought fit. She saw by his look that he expected explanation; but till she knew what Cecilia meant to do, how could she explain? To say nothing—to bear to be suspected,—was all she could do, without betraying her friend. That word 背叛—that thought ruled her. She passed him: “Good night” she could not then say. He bowed as she passed, and she heard no “Good night”—no sound. And there was the general in the hall to be passed also, before she could reach the staircase up which Cecilia was going. When he saw Helen with a look of surprise—as it seemed to her, of disapproving surprise—he said, “Are you gone, Miss Stanley?” The look, the tone, struck cold to her heart. He continued—“Though I drove Cecilia away, I did not mean to drive you away too. It is early.”

“Is it? I thought it was very late.”

“No—and if you 能够, I hope you will return.” There was a meaning in his eye, which she well understood.

“Thank you,” said she; “if I can certainly——”

“I hope you can and will.”

“Oh! thank you; but I must first——” see Cecilia, she was going to say, but, afraid of implicating her, she changed the sentence to—“I must first consider——”

“Consider! what the devil!” thought he, and his countenance was instantly angrily suited to the thought. Helen hesitated. “Do not let me detain—distress you farther, Miss Stanley, unavailingly; and since I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again this evening,” concluded he, in a constrained voice, “I have the honour to wish you a good night.” He returned to the music-room.

Helen instantly went to Cecilia’s room; Felicie was with her. Helen expected Lady Cecilia would dismiss her instantly; but mademoiselle was chattering. Helen had sometimes thought Cecilia let her talk too much, but to-night it was insufferable. Helen was too impatient, too anxious to bear it. “Cecilia, my dear, I want to speak to you alone, as soon as you can, in my own room.”

“As soon as possible,” Cecilia answered in a voice not natural. And she came, but not as soon as possible—shut the door behind her, showing that she had not dismissed Felicie, and, with hair dishevelled, as if hastening back to her room, said, “I am in a hurry; the general ordered me to make haste, and not to be an hour undressing.

“I will not keep you a moment,” said Helen. “I am in as great a hurry as you can be. Beauclerc is waiting for me.”

“Waiting for you at this time of night! Oh! my dear, he cannot be standing there with his arms folded all this time.”

Helen repeated what the general had said, and ended with, “I am determined to return.”

“No no,” Lady Cecilia said. The general could not advise her going back at this time of night. And with rapidity and confusion, she poured out a multitude of dissuasive arguments, some contradicting the others. “At this time of night! The world is not gone, and Beauclerc is in the midst of them by this time, you may be sure. You don’t think he is standing alone there all this time. You could not speak to him before all the world—don’t attempt it. You would only expose yourself. You would make a scene at last—undo all, and come to disgrace, and ruin me and yourself. I know you would, Helen. And if you were to send for him—into the library—alone! the servants would know it—and the company gone! And after all, for you, my dear, to make the first advance to reconciliation! If he is angry—I don’t think that would be quite—dignified; quite like you, Helen.”

“The general thinks it right, and I am sure he would not advise any thing improper—undignified. It does not signify, Cecilia, I am determined—I will go.” Trembling, she grew absolutely desperate from fear. “I am afraid you have forgot your promise, Cecilia; you said that if I could bear it for one hour, it would be over. Did you not promise me that if any difficulty came between me and——” She stopped short. She had felt indignant; but when she looked at Cecilia, and saw her tears, she could not go on. “Oh Helen!” cried Cecilia, “I do not ask you to pity me. You cannot know what I suffer—you are innocent—and I have done so wrong! You cannot pity me.”

“I do, I do,” cried Helen, “from the bottom of my heart. Only trust me, dear Cecilia; let me go down——”

Lady Cecilia sprang between her and the door. “Hear Me! hear me, Helen! Do not go to-night, and, cost what it will—cost me what it may, since it has come to this between you, I will confess all this night—I will tell all to the general, and clear you with him and with Granville. What more can you ask?—what more can I do, Helen? And will you go?”

“No no, my dear Cecilia. Since you promise me this, I will not go now.”

“Be satisfied then, and rest—for me there is no rest;” so saying Cecilia slowly left the room.

Helen could not sleep: this was the second wretched night she had passed in that most miserable of all uncertainty—whether she was right or wrong.

In the morning, to Helen’s astonishment, Cecilia’s first words were about a dream—“Oh, my dear Helen, I have had such a dream! I do not usually mind dreams in the least, but I must own to you that this has made an impression! My dear, I can hardly tell it; I can scarcely bear to think of it. I thought that Clarendon and I were sitting together, and my hand was on his shoulder; and I had worked myself up—I was just going to speak. He was winding up his watch, and I leaned forward to see his face better. He looked up-and it was not him: it was Colonel D’Aubigny come to life. The door opened, Clarendon appeared—his eyes were upon me; but I do not know what came afterwards; all was confusion and fighting. And then I was with that nurse my mother recommended, and an infant in her arms. I was going to take the child, when Clarendon snatched it, and threw it into the flames. Oh! I awoke with a scream!”

“How glad you must have been,” said Helen, “to awake and find it was only a dream!”

“But when I screamed,” continued Cecilia, “Clarendon started up, and asked if I was in pain. ‘Not of body,’ I said;—and then—oh, Helen! then I thought I would begin. ‘Not of body,’ I said, ‘but of mind;’ then I added, ‘I was thinking of Helen and Beauclerc,’ Clarendon said, ‘So was I; but there is no use in thinking of it; we can do no good.’—‘Then,’ I said, ‘suppose, Clarendon—only suppose that Helen, without saying any thing, were to let this matter pass off with Beauclerc?’—Clarendon answered, ‘It would not pass off with Beauclerc.’—‘But,’ said I, ‘I do not mean without any explanation at all. Only suppose that Helen did not enter into any particulars, do not you think, Clarendon, that things would go on well enough?’—‘No,’ he said decidedly, ‘no.’—‘Do you mean,’ said I, ‘that things would not go on at all?’—‘I do not say, not at all,’ he answered; ‘but 好 they would not go on.’”

“I am sure the general is right,” said Helen.

“Then,” continued Lady Cecilia, “then I put the question differently. I wanted to feel my way, to try whether I could possibly venture upon my own confession. ‘Consider it this way, Clarendon,’ I said. ‘Take it for granted that Helen did somehow arrange that Beauclerc were to be satisfied without any formal explanation.’—‘Formal!’ said he,—‘I will not say formal,’ said I; ‘but without a ， explanation: in short, suppose that from mere timidity, Helen could not, did not, exactly tell him the whole before marriage—put it off till afterwards—then told him all candidly; do you think, Clarendon, that if you were in Beauclerc’s place (I quite stammered when I came to this)—do you think you could pardon, or forgive, or esteem, or love,’ I intended to end with, but he interrupted me with—‘I do not know,’ very shortly; and added, ‘I hope this is not what Miss Stanley intends to do?’”

“Oh! what did you answer?” cried Helen.

“I said I did not know. My dear Helen, it was the only thing I could say. What would Clarendon have thought, after all my 假想的, if I had said any thing else? he must have seen the truth.”

“And that he is not to see,” said Helen: “and how false he must think me!”

“No, no; for I told him,” continued Lady Cecilia, “that I was sure you wished always to tell the whole truth about everything, but that there might be circumstances where you really could not; and where I, knowing all the circumstances, could not advise it. He said, ‘Cecilia, I desire you will not advise or interfere any farther in this matter. Promise me, Cecilia!’ He spoke sternly, and I promised as fast as I could. ‘Do nothing, say nothing more about it,’ he repeated; and now, after that, could I go on, Helen?”

“No, indeed; I do not think you could. My dear Cecilia, I really think you could not,” said Helen, much moved.

“And do you forgive me, my dear, good——.” But seeing Helen change colour, Lady Cecilia, following her eye, and looking out of the window, started up, exclaiming, “There is Beauclerc; I see him in my mother’s walk. I will go to him this minute; yes, I will trust him—I will tell him all instantly.”

Helen caught hold of her, and stopped her. Surprised, Cecilia said, “Do not stop me. I may never have the courage again if stopped now. Do not stop me, Helen.”

“I must, Cecilia. General Clarendon desired you not to interfere in the matter.”

“But this is not interfering, only interposing to prevent mischief.”

“But, Cecilia,” continued Helen eagerly, “another reason has just struck me.”

“I wish reasons would not strike you. Let me go. Oh, Helen; it is for you.”

“And it is for you I speak, Cecilia,” said Helen, as fast as she could. “If you told Beauclerc, you never could afterwards tell the general; it would be a new difficulty. You know the general could never endure your having confessed this to any man but himself—trusted Beauclerc rather than your husband.”

Cecilia stopped, and stood silent.

“My dear Cecilia,” continued Helen, “you must leave me to my own judgment now;” and, breaking from Cecilia, she left the room. She hurried out to meet Beauclerc. He stopped on seeing her, and then came forward with an air of evident deliberation.

“Do you wish to speak to me, Miss Stanley!”

“Miss Stanley!” cried Helen; “is it come to this, and without hearing me!”

“Without hearing you, Helen! Was not I ready last night to hear you? Without hearing you! Have not you kept me in torture, the worst of tortures—suspense? Why did not you speak to me last night?”

“I could not.”

“为什么为什么？”

“I cannot tell you,” said she.

“Then I can tell you, Helen.”

“你可以！”

“And will. Helen, you could not speak to me till you had consulted—arranged—settled what was to be said—what not to be said—what told—what left untold.”

Between each half sentence he darted looks at her, defying hers to contradict—and she could not contradict by word or look. “You could not speak,” continued he passionately, “till you had well determined what was to be told—what left untold to me! To me, Helen, your confiding—devoted—accepted lover! for I protest before Heaven, had I knelt at the altar with you, Helen Stanley, not more yours, not more mine could I have deemed you—not more secure of your love and truth—your truth, for what is love without it!—not more secure of perfect felicity could I have been on earth than I was when we two sat together but yesterday evening on that bank. Your words—your looks—and still your looks—But what signify tears!—Tears, women’s tears! Oh! what is woman!—and what is man that believes in her?—weaker still?”

“Hear me!—hear me!”

“Hear you?—No, Helen, do not now ask me to hear you.—Do not force me to hear you.—Do not debase, do not sully, that perfect image of truth.—Do not sink yourself, Helen, from that height at which it was my entranced felicity to see you. Leave me one blessed, one sacred illusion. No,” cried he, with increasing vehemence, “say nothing of all you have prepared—not one arranged word conned over in your midnight and your morning consultations,” pointing back to the window of her dressing-room, where he had seen her and Lady Cecilia.

“You saw,” Helen began——

“Yes.—Am I blind, think you?—I wish I were. Oh! that I could be again the believing, fond, happy dupe I was but yesterday evening!”

“Dupe!” repeated Helen. “But pour out all—all, dear Granville. Think—say—what you will—reproach—abuse me as you please. It is a relief—take it—for I have none to give.”

“None!” cried he, his tone suddenly changing, “no relief to give!—What! have you nothing to say?—No explanation?—Why speak to me then at all?”

“To tell you so at once—to end your suspense—to tell you that I cannot explain. The midnight consultation and the morning, were not to prepare for you excuse or apology, but to decide whether I could tell you the whole; and since that cannot be, I determined not to enter into any explanation. I am glad that you do not wish to hear any.”

“Answer me one question,” said he:—“that picture-did you give it to Colonel D’Aubigny?”

“No. That is a question I can answer. No—he stole it from Cecilia’s portfolio. Ask me no more.”

“One question more—”

“No, not one more—I cannot tell you anything more.”

She was silent for a moment, he withdrew his eyes, and she went on.

“Granville! I must now put your love and esteem for me to the test. If that love be what I believe it to be; if your confidence in me is what I think it ought to be, I am now going to try it. There is a mystery which I cannot explain. I tell you this, and yet I expect you to believe that I am innocent of anything wrong but the concealment. There are circumstances which I cannot tell you.”

“But why?” interrupted Beauclerc.—“Ought there to be any circumstances which cannot be told to the man to whom you have plighted your faith? Away with this ‘cannot—this mystery!’ Did not I tell you every folly of my life—every fault? And what is this?—in itself, nothing!—concealment everything—Oh! Helen—”

She was going to say, “If it concerned only myself,”—but that would at once betray Cecilia, and she went on.—“If it were in my opinion right to tell it to you, I would. On this point, Granville, leave me to judge and act for myself. This is the test to which I put your love—put mine to any test you will, but if your confidence in me is not sufficient to endure this trial, we can never be happy together.” She spoke very low: but Beauclerc listened with such intensity that he could not only distinguish every syllable she said, but could distinctly hear the beating of her heart, which throbbed violently, in spite of all her efforts to be calm. “Can you trust me?” concluded she.

“I can,” cried he. “I can—I do! By Heaven I do! I think you an angel, and legions of devils could not convince me of the contrary. I trust your word—I trust that heavenly countenance—I trust entirely——” He offered, and she took his offered hand. “I trust entirely. Not one question more shall I ask—not a suspicion shall I have: you put me to the test, you shall find me stand it.”

“Can you?” said she; “you know how much I ask. I acknowledge a mystery, and yet I ask you to believe that I am not wrong.”

“I know,” said she; “you shall see.” And both in happiness once more, they returned to the house.

“I love her a thousand times better than ever,” thought Beauclerc, “for the independence of mind she shows in thus braving my opinion, daring to set all upon the cast—something noble in this! I am to form my own judgment of her, and I will, independently of what any other human being may say or think. The general, with his strict, narrow, conventional notions, has not an idea of the kind of woman I like, or of what Helen really is. He sees in Helen only the discreet proper-behaved young lady, adapted, so nicely adapted to her place in society, to nitch and notch in, and to be of no sort of value out of it. Give me a being able to stand alone, to think and feel, decide and act, for herself. Were Helen only what the general thinks her, she would not be for me; while she is what I think her, I love—I adore!” And when he saw his guardian, Beauclerc declared that, though Helen had entered into no explanations, he was perfectly satisfied.

The general answered, “I am glad you ，那恭喜你， satisfied.” Beauclerc perceived that the general was not; and in spite of all that he had just been saying to himself, this provoked and disgusted him. His theory of his own mind, if not quite false, was still a little at variance with his practice. His guardian’s opinion swayed him powerfully, whenever he believed that it was not designed to influence him; when the opinion was repressed, he could not rest without drawing it out. “Then, you think, general,” said he, “that some explanation ought to have been made?”

“No matter what I think, Granville, the affair is yours. If you are satisfied, that is all that is necessary.”

Then even, because left on their own point of suspension to vibrate freely, the diamond-scales of Beauclerc’s mind began to move, from some nice, unseen cause of variation. “But,” said he, “General Clarendon, no one can judge without knowing facts.”

“So I apprehend,” said the general.

“I may be of too easy faith,” replied Beauclerc.—[No reply.] “This is a point of honour.”—[No denial.] “My dear general, if there be anything which weighs with you, and which you know and I do not, I think, as my friend and my guardian, you ought to tell it to me.”

“Pardon me,” said the general, turning away from Beauclerc as he spoke, and striking first one heel of his boot against the scraper at the hall-door, then the other—“pardon me, Granville, I cannot admit you to be a better judge than I am myself of what I ought to do or not to do.”

The tone was dry and proud, but Beauclerc’s provoked imagination conceived it to be also mysterious; the scales of his mind vibrated again, but he had said he would trust—trust entirely, and he would: yet he could not succeed in banishing all doubt, till an idea started into his head—“That writing was Lady Cecilia’s! I thought so at the first moment, and I let it go again. It is hers, and Helen is keeping her secret:—but could Lady Cecilia be so ungenerous—so treacherous?” However, he had declared he would ask no questions; he was a man of honour, and he would ask none—none even of himself—a resolution which he found it surprisingly easy to keep when the doubt concerned only Lady Cecilia. Whenever the thought crossed his mind, he said to himself, “I will ask nothing—suspect nobody; but if it is Lady Cecilia’s affair, it is all the more generous in Helen.” And so, secure in this explanation, though he never allowed to himself that he admitted it, his trust in Helen was easy and complete, and his passion for her increased every hour.

But Lady Cecilia was disturbed even by the perfect confidence and happiness of Beauclerc’s manner towards Helen. She could not but fear that he had guessed the truth; and it seemed as if everything which happened tended to confirm him in his suspicions; for, whenever the mind is strongly interested on any subject, something alluding to it seems wonderfully, yet accidentally, to occur in everything that we read, or hear in common conversation, and so it now happened; things were continually said by persons wholly unconcerned, which seemed to bear upon her secret. Lady Cecilia frequently felt this with pangs of confusion, shame, and remorse; and, though Beauclerc did not watch, or play the spy upon her countenance, he could not help sometimes observing the flitting colour—the guilty changes of countenance—the assumed composure: that mind, once so artless, began to be degraded—her spirits sank; she felt that she “had lost the sunshine of a soul without a mystery!”

The day fixed for the marriage approached; Lady Cecilia had undertaken the superintendence of the 嫁妆, and Felicie was in anxious expectation of its arrival. Helen had written to the Collingwoods to announce the intended event, asking for the good bishop’s sanction, as her guardian, and regretting that he could not perform the ceremony. She had received from Lady Davenant a few lines, written just before she sailed, warm with all the enthusiasm of her ardent heart, and full of expectation that Helen’s lot would be one of the happiest this world could afford. All seemed indeed to smile upon her prospects, and the only clouds which dimmed the sunshine were Cecilia’s insincerity, and her feeling that the general thought her acting unhandsomely and unwisely towards his ward; but she consoled herself with the thought that he could not judge of what he did not know, that she did not deserve his displeasure, that Granville was satisfied, and if he was, why should not General Clarendon be so too? Much more serious, however, was the pain she felt on Cecilia’s account. She reproached herself with betraying the trust Lady Davenant had reposed in her. That dreadful prophecy seemed now accomplishing: Cecilia’s natural generosity, that for which Helen had ever most loved and admired her, the brightest, fairest parts of her character, seemed failing now; what could be more selfish than Cecilia’s present conduct towards herself, more treacherous to her noble minded, her confiding husband! The openness, the perfect unreserve between the two friends, was no longer what it had been. Helen, however, felt the constraint between them the less as she was almost constantly with Beauclerc, and in her young happiness she hoped all would be right. Cecilia would tell the general, and they would be as intimate, as affectionate, as they had ever been.

One morning General Clarendon, stopping Cecilia as she was coming down to breakfast, announced that he was obliged to set off instantly for London, on business which could not be delayed, and that she must settle with Miss Stanley whether they would accompany him or remain at Clarendon Park. He did not know, he said, how long he might be detained.

Cecilia was astonished, and excessively curious; she tried her utmost address to discover what was the nature of his business, in vain. All that remained was to do as he required without more words. He left the room, and Cecilia decided at once that they had better accompany him. She dreaded some delay; she thought that, if the general went alone to town, he might be detained Heaven knows how long; and though the marriage must be postponed at all events, yet if they went with the general, the ceremony might be performed in town as well as at Clarendon Park; and she with some difficulty convinced Helen of this. Beauclerc feared nothing but delay. They were to go. Lady Cecilia announced their decision to the general, who immediately set off, and the others in a few hours followed him.

“In my youth, and through the prime of manhood, I never entered London without feelings of hope and pleasure. It was to me the grand theatre of intellectual activity, the field for every species of enterprise and exertion, the metropolis of the world, of business, thought, and action. There, I was sure to find friends and companions, to hear the voice of encouragement and praise. There, society of the most refined sort offered daily its banquets to the mind, and new objects of interest and ambition were constantly exciting attention either in politics, literature, or science.”

These feelings, so well described by a man of genius, have probably been felt more or less by most young men who have within them any consciousness of talent, or any of that enthusiasm, that eager desire to have or to give sympathy, which, especially in youth, characterises noble natures. But after even one or two seasons in a great metropolis these feelings often change long before they are altered by age. Granville Beauclerc had already persuaded himself that he now detested, as much as he had at first been delighted with, a London life. From his metaphysical habits of mind, and from the sensibility of his temper, he had been too soon disgusted by that sort of general politeness which, as he said, takes up the time and place of real friendship; and as for the intellectual pleasures, they were, he said, too superficial for him; and his notions of independence, too, were at this time quite incompatible with the conventional life of a great capital. His present wish was to live all the year round in the country, with the woman he loved, and in the society of a few chosen friends. Helen quite agreed with him in his taste for the country; she had scarcely ever known any other life, and yet had always been happy; and whatever youthful curiosity had been awakened in her mind as to the pleasures of London, had been now absorbed by stronger and more tender feelings. Her fate in life, she felt, was fixed, and wherever the man she loved wished to reside, that, she felt, must be her choice. With these feelings they arrived at General Clarendon’s delightful house in town.

Helen’s apartment, and Cecilia’s, were on different floors, and had no communication with each other. It was of little consequence, as their stay in town was to be but short, yet Helen could not help observing that Cecilia did not express any regret at it, as formerly she would have done; it seemed a symptom of declining affection, of which, every the slightest indication was marked and keenly felt by Helen, the more so because she had anticipated that such must be the consequence of all that had passed between them, and there was now no remedy.

Among the first morning visitors admitted were Lady Castlefort and Lady Katrine Hawksby. They did not, as it struck Cecilia, seem surprised to see that Miss Stanley was Miss Stanley still, though the day for the marriage had been announced in all the papers as fixed; but they did seem now full of curiosity to know how it had come to pass, and there was rather too apparent a hope that something was going wrong. Their first inquisitive look was met by Lady Cecilia’s careless glance in reply, which said better than words could express, “Nothing the matter, do not flatter yourselves.” Then her expertness at general answers which give no information, completely baffled the two curious impertinents. They could only learn that the day for the marriage was not fixed, that it could not be definitively named till some business should be settled by the general. Law business they supposed, of course. Lady Cecilia “knew nothing about it. Lawyers are such provoking wretches, with their fast bind fast find. Such an unconscionable length of time as they do take for their parchment doings, heeding nought of that little impatient flapper Cupid.”

Certain that Lady Cecilia was only playing with their curiosity, yet unable to circumvent her, Lady Katrine changed the conversation, and Lady Castlefort preferred a prayer, which was, she said, the chief object of her visit, that Lady Cecilia and Miss Stanley would come to her on Monday; she was to have a few friends—a very small party, and independently of the pleasure she should have in seeing them, it would be advantageous perhaps to Miss Stanley, as Lady Castlefort, in her softest voice, added, “For from the marriage being postponed even for a few days, people might talk, and Mr. Beauclerc and Miss Stanley appearing together would prevent anybody’s thinking there was any little—Nothing so proper now as for a young lady to appear with her 未来的危机; so I shall expect you, my dear Cecilia, and Miss Stanley,”—and so saying, she departed. Helen’s objections were all overruled, and when the engagement was made known to Beauclerc, he shrugged, and shrank, and submitted; observing, “that all men, and all women, must from the moment they come within the precincts of London life, give up their time and their will to an imaginary necessity of going when we do not like it, where we do not wish, to see those whom we have no desire to see, and who do not care if they were never to see us again, except for the sake of their own reputation of playing well their own parts in the grand farce of mock civility” Helen was sorry to have joined in making an engagement for him which he seemed so much to dislike. But Lady Cecilia, laughing, maintained that half his reluctance was affectation, and the other half a lover-like spirit of monopoly, in which he should not be indulged, and instead of pretending to be indifferent to what the world might think, he ought to be proud to show Helen as a proof of his taste.

In dressing Helen this night, Felicie, excited by her lady’s exhortations, displayed her utmost skill. Mademoiselle Felicie had a certain petite métaphysique de toilette, of which she was justly vain. She could talk, and as much to the purpose as most people of “le genre classique,” and “le genre romantique,” of the different styles of dress that suit different styles of face; and while “she worked and wondered at the work she made,” she threw out from time to time her ideas on the subject to form the taste of Helen’s little maid. Rose, who, in mute attention, held the light and assiduously presented pins. “Not your pin so fast one after de other Miss Rose—Tenez! tenez!” cried mademoiselle. “You tink in England alway too much of your pin in your dress, too little of our taste—too little of our elegance, too much of your what you call 整洁, or God know what! But never you mind dat so much, Miss Rose; and you not prim up your little mouth, but listen to me. Never you put in one pin before you ask yourself, Miss Rose, what for I do it? In every toilette that has taste there is above all—tenez—a character—a sentiment to be support; suppose your lady is to be superbe, or she will rather be élégante, or charmante, or intéressante, or distinguée—well, dat is all ver’ well, and you dress to that idée, one or oder—well, very well—but none of your wat you call 奇. No, no, never, Miss Rose—dat is not style noble; ‘twill only become de petit minois of your English originale. I wash my hand of dat always.” The toilette superbe mademoiselle held to be the easiest of all those which she had named with favour, it may be accomplished by any common hands; but 头 is requisite to reach the toilette distinguée. The toilette superbe requires only cost—a toilette distinguée demands care. There was a happiness as well as care in Felicie’s genius for dress, which, ever keeping the height of fashion in view, never lost sight of nature, adapting, selecting, combining to form a perfect whole, in which art itself concealed appeared only, as she expressed it, in the sublime of simplicity. In the midst of all her talking, however, she went on with the essential business, and as she finished, pronounced “Précepte commence, exemple achève.”

When they arrived at Lady Castlefort’s, Lady Cecilia was surprised to find a line of carriages, and noise, and crowds of footmen. How was this? She had understood that it was to be one of those really small parties, those select reunions of some few of the high and mighty families who chance to be in town before Christmas.—“But how is this?” Lady Cecilia repeated to herself as she entered the hall, amazed to find it blazing with light, a crowd on the stairs, and in the anteroom a crowd, as she soon felt, of an unusual sort. It was not the soft crush of aristocracy, they found hard unaccustomed citizen elbows,—strange round-shouldered, square-backed men and women, so over-dressed, so bejewelled, so coarse—shocking to see, impossible to avoid; not one figure, one face, Lady Cecilia had ever seen before; till at last, from the midst of the throng emerged a fair form—a being as it seemed of other mould, certainly of different caste. It was one of Cecilia’s former intimates—Lady Emily Greville, whom she had not seen since her return from abroad. Joyfully they met, and stopped and talked; she was hastening away, Lady Emily said, “after having been an hour on duty; Lady Castlefort had made it a point with her to stay after dinner, she had dined there, and had stayed, and now guard was relieved.”

“But who are all these people? What is all this, my dear Lady Emily?” asked Cecilia.

“Do not you know? Louisa has trapped you into coming then, to-night without telling you how it is?”

“Not a word did she tell me, I expected to meet only our own world.”

“A very different world you perceive this! A sort of farce this is to the ‘Double Distress,’ a comedy;—in short, one of Lord Castlefort’s brothers is going to stand for the City, and citizens and citoyennes must be propitiated. When an election is in the case all other things give place: and, besides, he has just married the daughter of some amazing merchant, worth I don’t know how many plums; so le petit Bossu, who is proud of his brother, for he is reckoned the genius of the family! made it a point with Louisa to do this. She put up her eyebrows, and stood out as long as she could, but Lord Castlefort had his way, for he holds the purse you know,—and so she was forced to make a party for these Goths and Vandals, and of course she thought it best to do it directly, out of season, you know, when nobody will see it—and she consulted me whether it should be large or small; I advised a large party, by all means, as crowded as possible.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” said Cecilia; “to hide the shame in the multitude; vastly well, very fair all this, except the trapping us into it, who have nothing to do with it.”

“Nothing to do with it! pardon me,” cried Lady Emily. “It could not have been done without us. Entrapping us!—do not you understand that we are the baits to the traps? Bringing those animals here, wild beasts or tame, only to meet one another, would have been ‘doing business no how.’ We are what they are ‘come for to see,’ or to have it to say that they have seen the Exclusives, Exquisites, or Transcendentals, or whatever else they call us.”

“Lady Emily Greville’s carriage!” was now called in the anteroom.

“I must go, but first make me known to your friend Miss Stanley, you see I know her by instinct;” but “Lady Emily Greville’s carriage!” now resounded reiteratedly, and gentlemen with cloaks stood waiting, and as she put hers on, Lady Emily stooped forward and whispered,

“I do not believe one word of what they say of her,” and she was off, and Lady Cecilia stood for an instant looking after her, and considering what she could mean by those last words. Concluding, however, that she had not heard aright, or had missed some intervening name, and that these words, in short, could not possibly apply to Helen, Lady Cecilia turned to her, they resumed their way onward, and at length they reached the grand reception-room.

In the middle of that brilliantly lighted saloon, immediately under the centre chandelier, was ample verge and space enough reserved for the 精英 of the world; circle it was not, nor square, nor form regularly defined, yet the bounds were guarded. There was no way of getting to the further end of the saloon, or to the apartments open in the distance beyond it, except by passing through this enclosed space, in which one fair entrance was practicable, and one ample exit full in view on the opposite side. Several gentlemen of fashionable bearing held the outposts of this privileged place, at back of sofa, or side of fauteuil, stationary, or wandering near. Some chosen few were within; two caryatides gentlemen leaned one on each side of the fireplace, and in the centre of the rug stood a remarkably handsome man, of fine figure, perfectly dressed, his whole air exquisitely scornful, excruciatingly miserable, and loftily abstract. ‘Twas wonderful, ‘twas strange, ‘twas passing strange! how one so lost to all sublunary concerns, so far above the follies of inferior mortals, as he looked, came here—so extremely well-dressed too! How happened it? so nauseating the whole, as he seemed, so wishing that the business of the world were done! With half-closed dreamy eyelids he looked silent down upon two ladies who sat opposite to him, rallying, abusing, and admiring him to his vanity’s content. They gave him his choice of three names, l’Ennuyé, le Frondeur, or le Blasé. L’Ennuyé? he shook his head; too common; he would have none of it. Le Frondeur? no; too much trouble; he shrugged his abhorrence. Le Blasé? he allowed, might be too true. But would they hazard a substantive verb? He would give them four-and-twenty hours to consider, and he would take twenty-four himself to decide. They should have his definitive to-morrow, and he was sliding away, but Lady Castlefort, as he passed her, cried, “Going, Lord Beltravers, going are you?” in an accent of surprise and disappointment; and she whispered, “I am hard at work here, acting receiver general to these city worthies; and you do not pity me—cruel!” and she looked up with languishing eyes, that so begged for sympathy. He threw upon her one look of commiseration, reproachful. “Pity you, yes! But why will you do these things? and why did you bring me here to do this horrid sort of work?” and he vanished.

Lady Cecilia Clarendon and Miss Stanley now appeared in the 海面, and now reached the straits: Lady Castlefort rose with vivacity extraordinary, and went forward several steps. “Dear Cecilia! Miss Stanley, so good! Mr. Beauclerc, so happy! the general could not? so sorry!” Then with hand pressed on hers, “Miss Stanley, so kind of you to come. Lady Grace, give me leave—Miss Stanley—Lady Grace Bland,” and in a whisper, “Lord Beltravers’ aunt.”

Lady Grace, with a haughty drawback motion, and a supercilious arching of her brows, was “happy to have the honour.” Honour nasally prolonged, and some guttural sounds followed, but further words, if words they were, which she syllabled between snuffling and mumbling, were utterly unintelligible; and Helen, without being “very happy,” or happy at all, only returned bend for bend.

Lady Cecilia then presented her to a group of sister graces standing near the sofas of mammas and chaperons—not each a different grace, but similar each, indeed upon the very same identical pattern air of young-lady fashion—well-bred, and apparently well-natured. No sooner was Miss Stanley made known to them by Lady Cecilia, than, smiling just enough, not a muscle too much, they moved; the ranks opened softly, but sufficiently, and Helen was in the group; amongst them, but not of them—and of this she became immediately sensible, though without knowing how or why. One of these daughters had had expectations last season from having been frequently Mr. Beauclerc’s partner, and the mother was now fanning herself opposite to him. But Helen knew nought of this: to her all was apparently soft, smooth, and smiling. While, whenever any of the unprivileged multitude, the city monsters, passed near this high-born, high-bred group, they looked as though the rights of pride were infringed, and, smiling scorn, they dropped from half-closed lips such syllables of withering contempt, as they thought these vulgar victims merited: careless if they heard or not, rather rejoicing to see the sufferers wince beneath the wounds which they inflicted in their pride and pomp of sway. “Pride!” thought Helen, “was it pride?” If pride it was, how unlike what she had been taught to consider the proper pride of aristocracy; how unlike that noble sort which she had seen, admired, and loved! Helen fancied what Lady Davenant would have thought, how ignoble; how mean, how vulgar she would have considered these sneers and scoffs from the nobly to the lowly born. How unworthy of their rank and station in society! They who ought to be the first in courtesy, because the first in place.

As these thoughts passed rapidly in Helen’s mind, she involuntarily looked towards Beauclerc; but she was so encompassed by her present companions that she could not discover him. Had she been able to see his countenance, she would have read in it at once how exactly he was at that instant feeling with her. More indignant than herself, for his high chivalrous devotion to the fair could ill endure the readiness with which the gentlemen, attendants at ottoman or sofa, lent their aid to mock and to embarrass every passing party of the city tribe, mothers and their hapless daughter-train.

At this instant Lady Bearcroft, who, if she had not good breeding, certainly had good-nature, came up to Beauclerc, and whispered earnestly, and with an expression of strong interest in her countenance, “As you love her, do not heed one word you hear anybody say this night, for it’s all on purpose to vex you; and I am certain as you are it’s all false—all envy. And there she goes, Envy herself in the black jaundice,” continued she, looking at Lady Katrine Hawksby, who passed at that instant.

“Good Heavens!” cried Beauclerc, “what can——”

“No, no,” interrupted Lady Bearcroft, “no, no, do not ask—better not; best you should know no more—only keep your temper whatever happens. Go you up the hill, like the man in the tale, and let the black stones bawl themselves hoarse—dumb. Go you on, and seize your pretty singing thinking bird—the sooner the better. So fare you well.”

And she disappeared in the crowd. Beauclerc, to whom she was perfectly unknown, (though she had made him out,) totally at a loss to imagine what interest she could take in Helen or in him, or what she could possibly mean, rather inclined to suppose she was a mad women, and he forgot everything else as he saw Helen with Lady Cecilia emerging from the bevy of young ladies and approaching him. They stopped to speak to some acquaintance, and he tried to look at Helen as if he were an indifferent spectator, and to fancy what he should think of her if he saw her now for the first time. He thought that he should be struck not only with her beauty, but with her graceful air—her ingenuous countenance, so expressive of the freshness of natural sensibility. She was exquisitely well dressed too, and that, as Felicie observed, goes for much, even with your most sensible men. Altogether he was charmed, whether considering her as with the eyes of an unbiased stranger or with his own. And all he heard confirmed, and, although he would not have allowed it, strengthened his feelings. He heard it said that, though there were some as handsome women in the room, there were none so interesting; and some of the young men added, “As lovely as Lady Blanche, but with more expression.” A citizen, with whom Beauclerc could have shaken hands on the spot, said, “There’s one of the highbreds, now, that’s well-bred too.” In the height of the rapture of his feelings he overtook Lady Cecilia, who telling him that they were going on to another room, delivered Helen to his care, and herself taking the arm of some ready gentleman, they proceeded as fast as they could through the crowd to the, other end of the room.

This was the first time Helen had ever seen Lady Cecilia in public, where certainly she appeared to great advantage. Not thinking about herself, but ever willing to be pleased; so bright, so gay, she was sunshine which seemed to spread its beams wherever she turned. And she had something to say to everybody, or to answer quick to whatever they said or looked, happy always in the àpropos of the moment. Little there might be, perhaps, in what she said, but there was all that was wanted, just what did for the occasion. In others there often appeared a distress for something to say, or a dead dullness of countenance opposite to you. From others, a too fast hazarded broadside of questions and answers—glads and sorrys in chain-shots that did no execution, because there was no good aim—congratulations and condolences playing at cross purposes—These were mistakes, misfortunes, which could never occur in Lady Cecilia’s natural grace and acquired tact of manner. Helen was amused, as she followed her, in watching the readiness with which she knew how to exchange the necessary counters in the commerce of society: she was amused, till her attention was distracted by hearing, as she and Beauclerc passed, the whispered words—“我promessi sposi—look—La belle fiancée.” These words were repeated as they went on, and Lady Cecilia heard some one say, “I thought it was broken off; that was all slander then?” She recollected Lady Emily’s words, and, terrified lest Helen should hear more of—she knew not what, she began to talk to her as fast as she could, while they were stopped in the door-way by a crowd. She succeeded for the moment with Helen; she had not heard the last speech, and she could not, as long as Lady Cecilia spoke, hear more; but Beauclerc again distinguished the words “Belle fiancée;” and as he turned to discover the speaker, a fat matron near him asked, “Who is it?” and the daughter answered, “It is that handsome girl, with the white rose in her hair.”—“Hush!” said the brother, on whose arm she leaned; “Handsome is that handsome does.”

Handsome does! thought Beauclerc: and the mysterious warning of his unknown friend recurred to him. He was astonished, alarmed, furious; but the whispering party had passed on, and just then Lady Cecilia descrying Mr. Churchill in the distance, she made towards him. Conversation sure to be had in abundance from him. He discerned them from afar, and was happily prepared both with a ready bit of wit and with a proper greeting. His meeting with Lady Cecilia was, of course, just the same as ever. He took it up where he left off at Clarendon Park; no difference, no hiatus. His bow to Beauclerc and Helen, to Helen and Beauclerc, joined in one little sweep of a congratulatory motion, was incomparable: it said everything that a bow could say, and more. It implied such a happy freedom from envy or jealousy; such a polite acquiescence in the decrees of fate; such a philosophic indifference; such a cool sarcastic superiority to the event; and he began to Lady Cecilia with one of his prepared impromptus: “At the instant your ladyship came up, I am afraid I started, actually in a trance, I do believe. Methought I was—where do you think? In the temple of Jaggernaut.”

“Why?” said Lady Cecilia smiling.

“Methought,” continued Horace, “that I was in the temple of Jaggernaut—that one strange day in the year, when ill castes meet, when all distinction of castes and ranks is forgotten—the abomination of mixing them all together permitted, for their sins no doubt—high caste and low, from the abandoned Paria to the Brahmin prince, from their Billingsgate and Farringilon Without, suppose, up to their St. James’s, Street and Grosvenor Square, mingle, mingle, ye who mingle may, white spirits and grey, black spirits and blue. Now, pray look around: is not this Jaggernaut night with Lady Castlefort?”

“And you,” said Lady Cecilia; “are not you the great Jaggernaut himself, driving over all in your triumphant chariot of sarcasm, and crushing all the victims in your way?”

This took place with Horace; it put him in spirits, in train, and he fired away at Lady Castlefort, whom he had been flattering à loutrance five minutes before.

“I so admire that acting of sacrifice in your belle cousine to-night! Pasta herself could not do it better. There is a look of ‘Oh, ye just gods! what a victim am I!’ and with those upturned eyes so charming! Well, and seriously it is a sad sacrifice. Fathers have flinty hearts by parental prescription; but husbands—petit Bossus especially—should have mercy for their own sakes; they should not strain their marital power too far.”

“But,” said Lady Cecilia, “it is curious, that one born and bred such an ultra exclusive as Louisa Castlefort, should be obliged after her marriage immediately to open her doors and turn ultra liberale, or an universal suffragist—all in consequence of these 大联盟设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“True, true,” said Churchill, with a solemn, pathetic shake of the head. “Gentlemen and noblemen should consider before they make these low matches to save their studs, or their souls, or their entailed estates. Whatever be the necessity, there can be no apology for outraging all 礼. Necessity has no law, but it should have some decency. Think of, bringing upon a foolish elder brother—But we won’t be personal.”

“No, don’t pray, Horace,” said Lady Cecilia, moving on. “But think, only think, my dear Lady Cecilia; think what it must be to be ‘How-d’ye-doed,’ and to be ‘dear sistered’ by such bodies as these in public.”

“Sad! sad!” said Lady Cecilia.

“The old French nobility,” continued Churchill, “used to call these low money-matches, ‘mettre du fumier sur nos terres.’”

“Dirty work at best,” said Lady Cecilia.

“But still,” said Horace, “it might be done with decency if not with majesty.”

“But in the midst of all this,” said Lady Cecilia, “I want some ice very much for myself, and for Helen more.”

“I have a notion we shall find some here,” replied he, “if you will come on this way—in this 圣所 of Lady Katrine’s.”

He led them on to a little inner apartment, where, as he said, Lady Katrine Hawksby and her set do always scandal take, and sometimes tea.—“Tea and punch,” continued he, “you know, in London now is quite 法式风格, and it is astonishing to me, who am but a man, what strong punch ladies can take.”

“Only when it is iced,” said Lady Cecilia, smiling.

“Be it so,” said he,—“very refreshing ice, and more refreshing scandal, and here we have both in perfection. Scandal, hot and hot, and ice, cold and cold.”

By this time they had reached the entrance to what he called Lady Katrine’s 圣所, where she had gathered round the iced punch and tea-table a select party, whom she had drawn together with the promise of the other half of a half-published report,—a report in which “我承诺“和”La belle fiancée” were implicated!

“Stop here one moment,” cried Churchill, “one moment longer. Let us see before we are seen. Look in, look in pray, at this group. Lady Katrine herself on the sofa, finger up—holding forth; and the deaf old woman stretching forward to hear, while the other, with the untasted punch, sits suspended in curiosity. ‘What can it be?’ she says, or seems to say. Now, now, see the pretty one’s hands and eyes uplifted, and the ugly one, with that look of horror, is exclaiming, ‘You don’t say so, my dear Lady Katrine!’ Admirable creatures! Cant and scandal personified! I wish Wilkie were here—worth any money to him.”

“And he should call it ‘The scandal party,’” said Lady Cecilia. “He told me he never could venture upon a subject unless he could give it a good name.”

At this moment Lady Katrine, having finished her story, rose, and awaking from the abstraction of malice, she looked up and saw Helen and Lady Cecilia, and, as she came forward, Churchill whispered between them, “Now—now we are going comfortably to enjoy, no doubt, Madame de Sevigné’s pleasure ‘de mal dire du prochain,’ at the right hour too.”

Churchill left them there. Lady Katrine welcoming her victims—her unsuspicious victims—he slid off to the friends round the tea-table to learn from “Cant” what “Scandal” had been telling. Beauclerc was gone to inquire for the carriage. The instant Helen appeared, all eyes were fixed upon her, and “Belle fiancée” was murmured round, and, Cecilia heard—“He’s much to be pitied.”

At this moment Lord Castlefort went up to Helen; she had always been a favourite of his; he was grateful to her for her constant kindness to him, and, peevish though the little man might be, he had a good heart, and he showed it now by instantly taking Helen out of the midst of the starers, and begging her opinion upon a favourite picture of his, a Madonna.—Was it a Raffaelle, or was it not? He and Mr. Churchill, he said, were at issue about it. In short, no matter what he said, it engrossed Helen’s attention, so that she could not hear any thing that passed, and could not be seen by the starers; and he detained her in conversation till Beauclerc came to say—“The carriage is ready, Lady Cecilia is impatient.” Lord Castlefort opened a door that led at once to the staircase, so that they had not to recross all the rooms, but got out immediately. The smallest service merits thanks, and Helen thanked Lord Castlefort by a look which he appreciated.

Even in the few words which Beauclerc had said as he announced the carriage, she had perceived that he was agitated, and, as he attended her in silence down the stairs, his look was grave and pre-occupied; she saw he was displeased, and she thought he was displeased with her. When he had put them into the carriage, he wished them good night.

“Are not you coming with us?” cried Lady Cecilia.

“No, he thanked her, he had rather walk, and,” he added—“I shall not see you at breakfast—I am engaged.”

“Home!” said Lady Cecilia, drawing up the glass with a jerk.

Helen looked out anxiously. Beauclerc had turned away, but she caught one more glance of his face as the lamp flared upon it—she saw, and she was sure that——“Something is very much the matter—I am certain of it.”

“Nonsense, my dear Helen,” said Lady Cecilia; “the matter is, that he is tired to death, as I am sure I am.”

“There’s more than that,” said Helen, “he is angry,”—and she sighed.

“Now, Helen, do not torment yourself about nothing,” said Cecilia, who, not being sure whether Beauclerc had heard anything, had not looked at his countenance or remarked his tone; her mind was occupied with what had passed while Helen was looking at the Madonna. Lady Cecilia had tried to make out the meaning of these extraordinary starings and whisperings—Lady Katrine would not tell her any thing distinctly, but said, “Strange reports—so sorry it had got into the papers, those vile libellous papers; of course she did not believe—of Miss Stanley. After all, nothing very bad—a little awkward only—might be hushed up. Better not talk of it to-night; but I will try, Cecilia, in the morning, to find those paragraphs for you.” Lady Cecilia determined to go as early as possible in the morning, and make out the whole; and, had she plainly told this to Helen, it would have been better for all parties: but she continued to talk of the people they had seen, to hide her thoughts from Helen, who all the time felt as in a feverish dream, watching the lights of the carriage flit by like fiery eyes, while she thought only of the strange words she had heard and why they should have made Beauclerc angry with her.

At last they were at home. As they went in, Lady Cecilia inquired if the general had come in?—Yes, he had been at home for some time, and was in bed. This was a relief. Helen was glad not to see any one, or to be obliged to say anything more that night. Lady Cecilia bade her “be a good child, and go to sleep.” How much Helen slept may be left to the judgment of those who have any imagination.

“Miladi a une migranie affreuse this morning,” said Felicie, addressing herself on the stairs to Rose. “Mille amitiés de sa part to your young lady, Miss Rose, and 格里高利安 recommend to her to follow a good example, and to take her breakfast in her bed, and then to take one good sleep till you shall hear midi sonné设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

Miss Stanley, however, was up and dressed at the time when this message was brought to her, and a few minutes afterwards a footman came to the door, to give notice that the general was in the breakfast-room, waiting to know whether Miss Stanley was coming down or not. The idea of a tête-à-tetê breakfast with him was not now quite so agreeable as it would have been to her formerly, but she went down. The general was standing with his back to the fire, newspapers hanging from his hand, his look ominously grave. After “Good mornings” had been exchanged with awful solemnity, Helen ventured to hope that there was no bad public news.

“No public news whatever,” said the general.

Next, she was sorry to hear that Cecilia had “such a bad headache.”

“Tired last night,” said the general.

“It was, indeed, a tiresome, disagreeable party,” said Helen, hoping this would lead to how so? or why? but the general drily answered, “Not the London season,” and went on eating his breakfast in silence.

Such a constraint and awe came upon her, that she felt it would be taking too great a liberty, in his present mood, to put sugar and cream into his tea, as she was wont in happier times. She set sugar-bowl and cream before him, and whether he understood, or noticed not her feelings, she could not guess. He sugared, and creamed, and drank, and thought, and spoke not. Helen put out of his way a supernumerary cup, to which he had already given a push, and she said, “Mr. Beauclerc does not breakfast with us.”

“So I suppose,” said the general, “as he is not here.”

“He said he was engaged to breakfast.”

“With some of his friends, I suppose,” said the general.

There the dialogue came to a full stop, and breakfast, uncomfortably on her part, and with a preoccupied air on his, went on in absolute silence. At length the general signified to the servant who was in waiting, by a nod, and a look towards the door, that his further attendance was dispensed with. At another time Helen would have felt such a dismissal as a relief, for she disliked, and recollected that her uncle particularly disliked, the fashion of having servants waiting at a family breakfast, which he justly deemed unsuited to our good old English domestic habits; but somehow it happened that at this moment she was rather sorry when the servant left the room. He returned however in a moment, with something which he fancied to be yet wanting; the general, after glancing at whatever he had brought, said, “That will do, Cockburn; we want nothing more.”

Cockburn placed a screen between him and the fire; the general put it aside, and, looking at him, said sternly—“Cockburn, no intelligence must ever go from my house to any newspapers.”

Cockburn bowed—“None shall, Sir, if I can prevent it; none ever did from me, general.”

“None must ever go from anyone in my family—look to it.”

Cockburn bowed again respectfully, but with a look of reservation of right of remonstrance, answered by a look from his master, of “No more must be said.” Yet Cockburn was a favourite; he had lived in the family from the time he was a boy. He moved hastily towards the door, and having turned the handle, rested upon it and said, “general, I cannot answer for others.”

“Then, Cockburn, I must find somebody who can.”

Cockburn disappeared, but after closing the door the veteran opened it again, stood, and said stoutly, though seemingly with some impediment in his throat—“General Clarendon, do me the justice to give me full powers.”

“Whatever you require: say, such are your orders from me, and that you have full power to dismiss whoever disobeys.” Cockburn bowed, and withdrew satisfied.

Another silence, when the general hastily finishing his breakfast, took up the newspaper, and said, “I wished to have spared you the pain of seeing these, Miss Stanley, but it must be done now. There have appeared in certain papers, paragraphs alluding to Beauclerc and to you; these scandalous papers I never allow to enter my house, but I was informed that there were such paragraphs, and I was obliged to examine into them. I am sorry to find that they have some of them been copied into my paper to-day.”

He laid the newspaper before her. The first words which struck her eye were the dreaded whispers of last night; the paragraph was as follows:

“In a few days will be published the Memoirs of the late Colonel D’——, comprising anecdotes, and original love-letters; which will explain the mysterious allusions lately made in certain papers to ‘La belle Fiancée，'和'我promessi sposi设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

“What!” exclaimed Helen; “the letters! published!”

The general had turned from her as she read, and had gone to his writing-desk, which was at the furthest end of the room; he unlocked it, and took from it a small volume, and turning over the leaves as he slowly approached Helen, he folded down some pages, laid the volume on the table before her, and then said, “Before you look into these scandalous memoirs, Miss Stanley, let me assure you, that nothing but the necessity of being empowered by you to say what is truth and what is falsehood, could determine me to give you this shock.”

She was scarcely able to put forward her hand; yet took the book, opened it, looked at it, saw letters which she knew could not be Cecilia’s, but turning another leaf, she pushed it from her with horror. It was the letter—beginning with “My dear—too dear Henry.”

“In print!” cried she; “In print! published!”

“Not published yet, that I hope to be able to prevent,” said the general.

Whether she heard, whether she could hear him, he was not certain, her head was bent down, her hands clasping her forehead. He waited some minutes, then sitting down beside her, with a voice of gentleness and of commiseration, yet of steady determination, he went on:—“I 必须 speak, and you 必须 hear me, Helen, for your own sake, and for Beauclerc’s sake.”

“Speak,” cried she, “I hear.”

“Hear then the words of a friend, who will be true to you through life—through life and death, if you will be but true to yourself, Helen Stanley—a friend who loves you as he loves Beauclerc; but he must do more, he must esteem you as he esteems Beauclerc, incapable of any thing that is false.”

Helen listened with her breath suspended, not a word in reply.

“Then I ask——” She put her hand upon his arm, as if to stop him; she had a foreboding that he was going to ask something that she could not, without betraying Cecilia, answer.

“If you are not yet sufficiently collected, I will wait; take your own time—My question is simple—I ask you to tell me whether 所有 these letters are your’s or not?”

“No,” cried Helen, “these letters are not mine.”

“Not all,” said the general: “this first one I know to be yours, because I saw it in your handwriting; but I am certain all cannot be yours: now will you show me which are and which are not.”

“I will take them to my own room, and consider and examine.”

“Why not look at them here, Miss Stanley?”

She wanted to see Cecilia, she knew she could never answer the question without consulting her, but that she could not say; still she had no other resource, so, conquering her trembling, she rose and said, “I would rather go to——”

“Not to Cecilia,” said he; “to that I object: what can Cecilia do for you? what can she advise, but what I advise, that the plain truth should be told?”

“If I could! O if I could!” cried Helen.

“What can you mean? Pardon me, Miss Stanley, but surely you can tell the plain fact; you can recollect what you have written—at least you can know what you have not written. You have not yet even looked beyond a few of the letters—pray be composed—be yourself. This business it was that brought me to town. I was warned by that young lady, that poetess of Mr. Churchill’s, whom you made your friend by some kindness at Clarendon Park—I was warned that there was a book to come out, these Memoirs of Colonel D’Aubigny, which would contain letters said to be yours, a publication that would be highly injurious to you. I need not enter into details of the measures I consequently took; but I ascertained that Sir Thomas D’Aubigny, the elder brother of the colonel, knows nothing more of the matter than that he gave a manuscript of his brother’s, which he had never read, to be published: the rest is a miserable intrigue between booksellers and literary manufacturers, I know not whom; I have not been able to get to the bottom of it; sufficient for my present purpose I know, and must tell you. You have enemies who evidently desire to destroy your reputation, of course to break your marriage. For this purpose the slanderous press has been set at work, the gossiping part of the public has had its vile curiosity excited, the publication of this book is expected in a few days: this is the only copy yet completed, I believe, and this I could not get from the bookseller till this morning; I am now going to have every other copy destroyed directly.”

“Oh my dear, dear friend, how can I thank you?” Her tears gushed forth.

“Thank me not by words, Helen, but by actions; no tears, summon your soul—be yourself.”

“O if I could but retrieve one false step!”—she suddenly checked herself.

He stood aghast for an instant, then recovering himself as he looked upon her and marked the nature of her emotion, he said: “There can be no false step that you could ever have taken that cannot be retrieved. There can have been nothing that is irretrievable, except falsehood.”

“Falsehood! No,” cried she, “I will not say what is false—therefore I will not say anything.”

“Then since you cannot speak,” continued the general, “will you trust me with the letters themselves? Have you brought them to town with you?”

“The original letters?”

“Yes, those in the packet which I gave to you at Clarendon Park.”

“They are burned.”

“All?—one, this first letter I saw you tear; did you burn all the rest?”

“They are burned,” repeated she, colouring all over. She could not say “I burned them.”

He thought it a poor evasion. “They are burned,” continued he, “that is, you burned them: unfortunate. I must then recur to my first appeal. Take this pencil, and mark, I pray you, the passages that are your’s. I may be called on to prove the forgery of these passages: if you do not show me, and truly, which are yours, and which are not, how can I answer for you, Helen?”

“One hour,” said Helen,—“only leave me for one hour, and it shall be done.”

“Why this cowardly delay?”

“I ask only one hour—only leave me for one hour.”

“I obey, Miss Stanley, since it must be so. I am gone.”

He went, and Helen felt how sunk she was in his opinion,—sunk for ever, she feared! but she could not think distinctly, her mind was stunned; she felt that she must wait for somebody, but did not at first recollect clearly that it was for Cecilia. She leaned back on the sofa, and sank into a sort of dreamy state. How long she remained thus unconscious she knew not; but she was roused at last by the sound, as she fancied, of a carriage stopping at the door: she started up, but it was gone, or it had not been. She perceived that the breakfast things had been removed, and, turning her eyes upon the clock, she was surprised to see how late it was. She snatched up the pages which she hated to touch, and ran up-stairs to Cecilia’s room,—door bolted;—she gave a hasty tap—no answer; another louder, no answer. She ran into the dressing-room for Felicie, who came with a face of mystery, and the smile triumphant of one who knows what is not to be known. But the smile vanished on seeing Miss Stanley’s face.

“Bon Dieu! Miss Stanley—how pale! mais qu’est ce que c’est? Mon Dieu, qu’est ce que c’est donc?”

“Is Lady Cecilia’s door bolted within side?” said Helen.

“No, only lock by me,” said Mademoiselle Felicie. “Miladi charge me not to tell you she was not dere. And I had de presentiment you might go up to look for her in her room. Her head is got better quite. She is all up and dress; she is gone out in the carriage, and will soon be back no doubt. I know not to where she go, but in my opinion to my Lady Katrine. If you please, you not mention I say dat, as miladi charge me not to speak of dis to you. Apparemment quelque petit mystère设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

Poor Helen felt as if her last hope was gone, and now in a contrary extreme from the dreamy torpor in which she had been before, she was seized with a nervous impatience for the arrival of Cecilia, though whether to hope or fear from it, she did not distinctly know. She went to the drawing-room, and listened and listened, and watched and watched, and looked at the clock, and felt a still increasing dread that the general might return before Lady Cecilia, and that she should not have accomplished her promise. She became more and more impatient. As it grew later, the rolling of carriages increased, and their noise grew louder, and continually as they came near she expected that one would stop at the door. She expected and expected, and feared, and grew sick with fear long deferred. At last one carriage did stop, and then came a thundering knock—louder, she thought, than usual; but before she could decide whether it was Cecilia or not, the room-door opened, and the servant had scarcely time to say, that two ladies who did not give their names had insisted upon being let up—when the two ladies entered. One in the extreme of foreign fashion, but an Englishwoman, of assured and not prepossessing appearance; the other, half hid behind her companion, and all timidity, struck Helen as the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld.

“A thousand pardons for forcing your doors,” said the foremost lady; “but I bear my apology in my hand: a precious little box of Roman cameos from a friend of Lady Cecilia Clarendon’s, which I was desired to deliver myself.”

Helen was, of course, sorry that Lady Cecilia was not at home.

“I presume I have the honour of speaking to Miss Stanley,” continued the assured lady, and she gave her card “Comtesse de St. Cymon.” Then half-turning to the beauty, who now became visible—“Allow me to 提到—Lady Blanche Forrester.”

At that name Helen did not start, but she felt as if she had received an electric shock. How she went through the necessary forms of civility she knew not; but even in the agony of passion the little habits of life hold their sway. The customary motions were made, and words pronounced; yet when Helen looked at that beautiful Lady Blanche, and saw how beautiful! there came a spasm at her heart.

The comtesse, in answer to her look towards a chair, did not “choose to sit down—could not stay—would not intrude on Miss Stanley.” So they stood, Helen supporting herself as best she could, and preserving, apparently, perfect composure, seeming to listen to what farther Madame de St. Cymon was saying; but only the sounds reached her ear, and a general notion that she spoke of the box in her hand. She gave Helen some message to Lady Cecilia, explanatory of her waiting or not waiting upon her ladyship, to all which Helen answered with proper signs of civility; and while the comtesse was going on, she longed to look again at Lady Blanche, but dared not. She saw a half curtsey and a receding motion; and she knew they were going, and she curtsied mechanically. She felt inexpressible relief when Madame de St. Cymon turned her back and moved towards the door. Then Helen looked again at Lady Blanche, and saw again her surpassing beauty and perfect tranquillity. The tranquillity gave her courage, it passed instantaneously into herself, through her whole existence. The comtesse stopped in her way out, to look at a china table. “Ha! beautiful! Sêvre!—enamel—by Jaquetot, is it not?”

Helen was able to go forward, and answer to all the questions asked. Not one word from the Lady Blanche; but she wished to hear the sound of her voice. She tried—she spoke to her; but to whatever Helen said, no answer came, but the sweetest of smiles. The comtesse, with easy assurance and impertinent ill-breeding, looked at all that lay in her way, and took up and opened the miniature pictures that were on the table. “Lady Cecilia Clarendon—charming!—Blanche, you never saw her yet. Quite charming, is it not?”

Not a word from Lady Blanche, but a smile, a Guido smile. Another miniature taken up by the curious comtesse. “Ah! very like indeed! not flattered though. Do you know it, Blanche—eh?”

It was Beauclerc. Lady Blanche then murmured some few words indistinctly, in a very sweet voice, but showed no indication of feeling, except, as Helen gave one glance, she thought she saw a slight colour, like the inside of a shell, delicately beautiful; but it might be only the reflection from the crimson silk curtain near which she stood: it was gone, and the picture put down; and in a lively tone from the comtesse “再见,” and exit, a graceful bend from the silent beauty, and the vision vanished.

Helen stood for some moments fixed to the spot where they left her. She questioned her inmost thoughts. “Why was I struck so much, so strangely, with that beauty—so painfully? It cannot be envy; I never was envious of any one, though so many I have seen so much handsomer than myself. Jealousy? surely not; for there is no reason for it—no possibility of danger. Yet now, alas! when he has so much cause to doubt me! perhaps he might change. He seemed so displeased last night, and he has never been here all the morning!” She recollected the look and accent of Madame de St. Cymon, as she said the words “再见.” Helen did not like the words, or the look. She did not like anything about Madame de St. Cymon: “Something so assured, so impertinent! And all that unintelligible message about those cameos!—a mere excuse for making this unseasonable pushing visit—just pushing for the acquaintance. The general will never permit it, though—that is one comfort. But why do I say comfort?” Back went the circle of her thoughts to the same point.—“What can I do?—the general will return, he will find I have not obeyed him. But what can be done till Cecilia returns? If she were but here, I could mark—we could settle. O Cecilia! where are you? But,” thought she, “I had better look at the whole. I will, have courage to read these horrible letters.” To prevent all hazard of further interruption, she now went into an inner room, bolted the doors, and sat down to her dreaded task. And there we leave her.

That Fortune is not nice in her morality, that she frequently favours those who do not adhere to truth more than those who do, we have early had occasion to observe. But whether Fortune may not be in this, as in all the rest, treacherous and capricious; whether she may not by her first smiles and favours lure her victims on to their cost, to their utter undoing at last, remains to be seen.

It is time to inquire what has become of Lady Cecilia Clarendon. Before we follow her on her very early morning visit to her cousin’s, we must take leave to pause one moment to remark, not in the way of moralising by any means, but simply as a matter of history, that the first little fib in which Lady Cecilia, as a customary licence of speech, indulged herself the moment she awoke this morning, though it seemed to answer its purpose exactly at the time, occasioned her ladyship a good deal of superfluous toil and trouble during the course of the day. In reply to the first question her husband had asked, or in evasion of that question, she had answered, “My dear love, don’t ask me any questions, for I have such a horrid headache, that I really can hardly speak.”

Now a headache, such as she had at that moment, certainly never silenced any woman. Slighter could not be—scarce enough to swear by. There seemed no great temptation to prevarication either, for the general’s question was not of a formidable nature, not what the lawyers call a leading question, rather one that led to nothing. It was only, “Had you a pleasant party at Lady Castlefort’s last night, my dear Cecilia?” But with that prescience with which some nicely foresee how the truth, seemingly most innocent, may do harm, her ladyship foreboded that, if she answered straight forward—“no”—that might lead to—why? how? or wherefore?—and this might bring out the history of the strange rude manner in which la belle fiancée had been received. That need not necessarily have followed, but, even if it had, it would have done her no harm,—rather would have served at once her purpose in the best manner possible, as time will show. Her husband, unsuspicious man, asked no more questions, and only gave her the very advice she wished him to give, that she should not get up to breakfast—that she should rest as long as she could. Farther, as if to forward her schemes, even without knowing them, he left the house early, and her headache conveniently going off, she was dressed with all despatch—carriage at the door as soon as husband out of sight, and away she went, as we have seen, without Helen’s hearing, seeing, or suspecting her so well contrived and executed project.

She was now in good spirits. The infection of fear which she had caught, perhaps from the too sensitive Helen, last night, she had thrown off this morning. It was a sunny day, and the bright sunshine dispelled, as ever with her, any black notions of the night, all melancholy ideas whatsoever. She had all the constitutional hopefulness of good animal spirits. But though no fears remained, curiosity was as strong as ever. She was exceedingly eager to know what had been the cause of all these strange appearances. She guessed it must be some pitiful jealousy of Lady Katrine’s—some poor spite against Helen. Anything that should really give Beauclerc uneasiness, she now sincerely believed to be out of the question. Nonsense—only Helen and Beauclerc’s love of tormenting themselves—quite nonsense! And nonsense! three times ejaculated, quite settled the matter, and assured her in the belief that there could be nothing serious to be apprehended. In five minutes she should be at the bottom of all things, and in half an hour return triumphant to Helen, and make her laugh at her cowardly self. The carriage rolled on, Lady Cecilia’s spirits rising as she moved rapidly onwards, so that by the time she arrived at Lady Castlefort’s she was not only in good but in high spirits. To her askings, “Not at home” never echoed. Even at hours undue, such as the present, she, privileged, penetrated. Accordingly, unquestioned, unquestioning, the alert step was let down, opened wide was the hall-door, and lightly tripped she up the steps; but the first look into the hall told her that company was in the house already—yes—a breakfast—all were in the breakfast-room, except Lady Castlefort, not yet come down—above, the footman believed, in her boudoir. To the boudoir Cecilia went, but Lady Castlefort was not there, and Cecilia was surprised to hear the sound of music in the drawing-room, Lady Castlefort’s voice singing. While she waited in the next room for the song to be finished, Cecilia turned over the books on the table, richly gilt and beautifully bound, except one in a brown paper parcel, which seemed unsuited to the table, yet excited more attention than all the others, because it was directed “Private—for Lady Katherine Hawksby—to be returned before two o’clock.” What could it be? thought Lady Cecilia. But her attention was now attracted by the song which Lady Castlefort seemed to be practising; the words were distinctly pronounced, uncommonly distinctly, so as to be plainly heard—

“Had we never loved so kindly,
Hail we never loved so blindly,
Never met, or never parted.
We had ne’er been broken-hearted.”

As Cecilia listened, she cast her eyes upon a card which lay on the table—“Lord Beltravers,” and a new light flashed upon her, a light favourable to her present purpose; for since the object was altered with Lady Castlefort, since it was not Beauclerc any longer, there would be no further ill-will towards Helen. Lady Castlefort was not of the violent vindictive sort, with her there was no long-lasting dépit amoureux. She was not that fury, a woman scorned, but that blessed spirit, a woman believing herself always admired. “Soft, silly, sooth—not one of the hard, wicked, is Louisa,” thought Cecilia. And as Lady Castlefort, slowly opening the door, entered, timid, as if she knew some particular person was in the room, Cecilia could not help suspecting that Louisa had intended her song for other ears than those of her dear cousin, and that the superb negligence of her dress was not unstudied; but that well-prepared, well-according sentimental air, changed instantly on seeing—not the person expected, and with a start, she exclaimed, “Cecilia Clarendon!”

“Louisa Castlefort!” cried Lady Cecilia, answering that involuntary start of confusion with a well-acted start of admiration. “Louisa Castlefort, si belle, si belle, so beautifully dressed!”

“Beautifully dressed—nothing extraordinary!” said Lady Castlefort, advancing with a half embarrassed, half 满不在乎 air,—“One must make something of a toilette de matin, you know, when one has people to breakfast.”

“So elegant, so negligent!” continued Lady Cecilia.

“There is the point,” said Lady Castlefort. “I cannot bear any thing that is studied in costume, for dress is really a matter of so little consequence! I never bestow a thought upon it. Angelique rules my toilette as she pleases.”

“Angelique has the taste of an angel fresh from Paris,” cried Lady Cecilia.

“And now tell me, Cecilia,” pursued Lady Castlefort, quite in good humour, “tell me, my dear, to what do I owe this pleasure? what makes you so matinale? It must be something very extraordinary.”

“Not at all, only a little matter of curiosity.”

Then, from Lady Castlefort, who had hitherto, as if in absence of mind, stood, there was a slight “Won’t you sit?” motion.

“No, no, I can’t sit, can’t stay,” said Lady Cecilia.

A look quickly visible, and quickly suppressed, showed Lady Castlefort’s sense of relief; then came immediately greater pressing to sit down, “Pray do not be in such a hurry.

“But I am keeping you; have you breakfasted?”

“Taken coffee in my own room,” said Lady Castlefort “But you have people to breakfast; must not you go down?”

“No, no, I shall not go down for this is Katrine’s affair, as I will explain to you.”

Lady Cecilia was quite content, without any explanation; and sitting down, she drew her chair close to Lady Castlefort, and said, “Now, my dear, my little matter of curiosity.”

“Stay, my dear, first I must tell you about Katrine—now confidentially—very.”

Lady Cecilia ought to have been aware that when once her dear cousin Louisa’s little heart opened, and she became confidential, very, it was always of her own domestic grievances she began to talk, and that, once the sluice opened, out poured from the deep reservoir the long-collected minute drops of months and years.

“You have no idea what a life I lead with Katrine—now she is grown blue.”

“Is she?” said Lady Cecilia, quite indifferent.

“Deep blue! shocking: and this is a blue breakfast, and all the people at it are true bores, and a blue bore is, as Horace Churchill says, one of the most mischievous creatures breathing; and he tells me the only way of hindering them from doing mischief is by 铃声them; but first you must get rings. Now, in this case, for Katrine not a ring to be had for love or money. So there is no hope for me.”

“No hope for me,” thought Lady Cecilia, throwing herself back in her chair, submissive, but not resigned.

“If it had but pleased Heaven,” continued Lady Castlefort, “in its mercy, to have sent Katrine a husband of any kind, what a blessing it would have been! If she could but have been married to any body—now any body—”

“Any body is infinitely obliged to you,” said Cecilia, “but since that is out of the question, let us say no more about it—no use.”

“No use! that is the very thing of which I complain; the very thing which must ever—ever make me miserable.”

“Well, well, my dear,” cried Lady Cecilia, no longer capable of patience; “do not be miserable any more just now; never mind Katrine just now.”

“Never mind her! Easy for you to say, Cecilia, who do not live with Katrine Hawksby, and do not know what it is to have such a plague of a sister, watching one,—watching every turn, every look one gives—worse than a jealous husband. Can I say more?”

“No,” cried Cecilia; “therefore say no more about it. I understand it all perfectly, and I pity you from the bottom of my heart, so now, my dear Louisa——”

“I tell you, my dear Cecilia,” pursued Lady Castlefort, continuing her own thoughts, “I tell you, Katrine is envious of me. Envy has been her fault from a child. Envy of poor me! Envy, in the first place, of whatever good looks it pleased Providence to give me.” A glance at the glass.—“And now Katrine envies me for being Lady Castlefort, Heaven knows! now, Cecilia, and you know, she need not envy me so when she looks at Lord Castlefort; that is, what she sometimes says herself, which you know is very wrong of her to say to me—unnecessary too, when she knows I had no more hand in my marriage——”

“Than heart!” Cecilia could not forbear saying.

“Than heart!” readily responded Lady Castlefort; “never was a truer word said. Never was there a more complete sacrifice than my mother made of me; you know, Cecilia, a poor, young, innocent, helpless sacrifice, if ever there was one upon earth.”

“To a coronet,” said Lady Cecilia.

“Absolutely dragged to the altar,” continued Lady Castlefort.

“In Mechlin lace, that was some comfort,” said Cecilia laughing, and she laughed on in hope of cutting short this sad chapter of sacrifices. But Lady Castlefort did not understand raillery upon this too tender point. “I don’t know what you mean by Mechlin lace,” cried she pettishly. “Is this your friendship for me, Cecilia?”

Cecilia, justly in fear of losing the reward of all her large lay-out of flattery, fell to protesting the tenderest sympathy. “But only now it was all over, why make her heart bleed about what could not be helped?”

“Cannot be helped! Oh! there is the very thing I must ever, ever mourn.”

The embroidered cambric handkerchief was taken out of the bag; no tears, indeed, came, but there were sobs, and Cecilia not knowing how far it might go, apprehending that her ladyship meditated hysterics, seized a smelling-bottle, threw out the stopper, and presented it close under the nostrils. The good “Sels poignans d’Angleterre,” of which Felicie always acknowledged the unrivalled potency, did their business effectually. Back went the head, with an exclamation of “That’s enough! Oh, oh! too much! too much, Cecilia!”

“Are you better, my dear?” inquired Cecilia; “but indeed you must not give way to low spirits; indeed, you must not: so now to change the conversation, Louisa——”

“Not so fast, Lady Cecilia; not yet;” and now Louisa went on with a medical maundering. “As to low spirits, my dear Cecilia, I must say I agree with Sir Sib Pennyfeather, who tells me it is not mere common low spirits, but really all mind, too much mind; mind preying upon my nerves. Oh! I knew it myself. At first he thought it was rather constitutional; poor dear Sir Sib! he is very clever, Sir Sib; and I convinced him he was wrong; and so we agreed that it was all upon my mind—all; all——”

At that instant a green parrot, who had been half asleep in the corner, awoke on Lady Castlefort’s pronouncing, in an elevated tone, “All, all!” and conceiving himself in some way called upon, answered, “Poll! Poll! bit o’sugar Poll!” No small difficulty had Lady Cecilia at that moment in keeping her risible muscles in order; but she did, for Helen’s sake, and she was rewarded, for after Lady Castlefort had, all unconscious of ridicule, fed Poll from her amber bonbonniere, and sighed out once more “Mind! too much mind!” she turned to Cecilia, and said, “But, my dear, you wanted something; you had something to ask me.”

At once, and as fast as she could speak, Lady Cecilia poured out her business about Helen Stanley. She told of the ill-bred manner in which Helen had been received last night; inquired why the words promessi sposi 和 belle fiancée were so oddly repeated, as if they had been watchwords, and asked what was meant by all those strange whisperings in the sanctum sanctorum.

“Katrine’s set,” observed Lady Castlefort coolly. “Just like them; just like her!”

“I should not care about it in the least,” said Lady Cecilia, “if it were only Katrine’s ill-nature, or their ill-breeding. Ill-breeding always recoils on the ill-bred, and does nobody else any harm. But I should be glad to be quite clear that there is nothing more at the bottom.”

Lady Castlefort made no reply, but took up a bunch of seals, and looked at each of them one after another. Lady Cecilia more afraid now than she had yet been that there was something at the bottom, still bravely went on, “What is it? If you know, tell me at once.”

“Nay, ask Katrine,” said Lady Castlefort.

“No, I ask you, I would rather ask you, for you are good-natured, Louisa—so tell me.”

“But I dare say it is only slander,” said the good-natured Louisa.

“Slander!” repeated Lady Cecilia, “slander did you say?”

“Yes; what is there to surprise you so much in that word? did you never hear of such a thing? I am sure I hear too much of it; Katrine lives and breathes and fattens upon it; as Churchill says, she eats slander, drinks slander, sleeps upon slander.”

“But tell me, what of Helen? that is all I want to hear,” cried Lady Cecilia: “Slander! of Helen Stanley! what is it that Katrine says about poor Helen? what spite, what vengeance, can she have against her, tell me, tell me.”

“If you would ask one question at a time, I might be able to answer you,” said Lady Castlefort. “Do not hurry me so; you fidget my nerves. First as to the spite, you know yourself that Katrine, from the beginning, never could endure Helen Stanley; for my part, I always rather liked her than otherwise, and shall defend her to the last.”

“保卫她！”

“But Katrine was always jealous of her, and lately worse than ever, for getting into her place, as she says, with you; that made her hate her all the more.”

“Let her hate on, that will never make me love Helen the less.”

“So I told her; and besides, Miss Stanley is going to be married.”

“To be sure;—well?”

“And Katrine naturally hates every body that is going to be married. If you were to see the state she is in always reading the announcements of Marriages in High Life! Churchill, I do believe, had Miss Stanley’s intended match put into every paper continually, on purpose for the pleasure of plaguing Katrine; and if you could have seen her long face, when she saw it announced in the Court Gazette—good authority, you know—really it was pitiable.”

“I don’t care, I don’t care about that—Oh pray go on to the facts about Helen.”

“Well, but the fact is as I tell you; you wanted to know what sufficient cause for vengeance, and am not I telling you? If you would not get into such a state of excitement!—as Sir Sib says excitements should be avoided. La! my dear,” continued Lady Castlefort, looking up at her with unfeigned astonishment, “what agitation! why, if it were a matter that concerned yourself——”

“It concerns my friend, and that is the same thing.”

“So one says; but—you look really, such a colour.”

“No matter what colour I look,” cried Cecilia; “go on.”

“Do you never read the papers?” said Lady Castlefort.

“Sometimes,” said Lady Cecilia; “but I have not looked at a paper these three days; was there any thing particular? tell me.”

“My dear! tell you! as if I could remember by heart all the scandalous paragraphs I read.” She looked round the room, and not seeing the papers, said, “I do not know what has become of those papers; but you can find them when you go home.”

She mentioned the names of two papers, noted for being personal, scandalous, and scurrilous.

“Are those the papers you mean?” cried Lady Cecilia; “the general never lets them into the house.”

“That is a pity—that’s hard upon you, for then you never are, as you see, au courant du jour, and all your friends might be abused to death without your knowing it, if some kind person did not tell you.”

“Do tell me, then, the substance; I don’t want the words.”

“But the words are all. Somehow it is nothing without the words.”

In her now excited state of communicativeness, Lady Castlefort rose and looked all about the room for the papers, saying, “They were here, they were there, all yesterday; Katrine had them showing them to Lady Masham in the morning, and to all her blue set afterwards—Lord knows what she has done with them. So tiresome looking for things! how I hate it.”

She rang the bell and inquired from the footman if he knew what had become of the papers. Of course he did not know, could not imagine—servants never know, nor can imagine what have become of newspapers—but he would inquire. While he went to inquire, Lady Castlefort sank down again into her 贝尔热尔, and again fell into admiration of Cecilia’s state of impatience.

“How curious you are! Now I am never really curious about any thing that does not come home to myself; I have so little interest about other people.”

This was said in all the simplicity of selfishness, not from candour, but from mere absence of shame, and utter ignorance of what others think—what others feel, which always characterises, and often betrays the selfish, even where the head is best capable of supplying the deficiencies of the heart. But Louisa Castlefort had no head to hide her want of heart; while Cecilia, who had both head and heart, looked down upon her cousin with surprise, pity, and contempt, quick succeeding each other, in a sort of parenthesis of feeling, as she moved her eyes for a moment from the door on which they had been fixed, and to which they recurred, while she stood waiting for the appearance of those newspapers. The footman entered with them. “In Mr. Landrum’s room they were, my lady.”

Lady Cecilia did not hear a word that was said, nor did she see that the servant laid a note on the table. It was well that Louisa had that note to read, and to answer, while Cecilia looked at the paragraphs in these papers; else her start must have been seen, her exclamation must have been heard: it must have been marked, that the whole character of her emotion changed from generous sympathy with her friend, to agony of fear for herself. The instant she cast her eyes on that much-read paper, she saw the name of Colonel D’Aubigny; all the rest swam before her eyes. Lady Castlefort, without looking up from her writing, asked—What day of the month? Cecilia could not answer, but recalled to herself by the sound of the voice, she now tried to read—she scarcely read the words, but some way took the sense into her mind at a glance.

The first of these paragraphs caught the eye by its title in capital letters.

“LA BELLE FIANCÉE.

“Though quite unknown in the London world, this young lady cannot fail to excite some curiosity among our fashionables as the successful rival of one whom the greatest painter of the age has pronounced to be the fairest of the fair—the Lady B. F. This new 海伦is, we understand, of a respectable family, niece to a late dean, distinguished for piety much and virtù more. It was reported that the niece was a great heiress, but after the proposal had been made, it was discovered that Virtù had made away with every shilling of her fortune. This made no difference in the eyes of her inamorato, who is as rich as he is generous, and who saw with the eyes of a youth ‘Of Age to-morrow.’ His guardian, a wary general, demurred—but nursery tactics prevailed. The young lady, though she had never been out, bore the victory from him of many campaigns. The day for the marriage was fixed as announced by us—But we are concerned to state that a 延期 of this marriage for 神秘的原因 has taken place. Delicacy forbids us to say more at present.”

Delicacy, however, did not prevent their saying in the next paper in a paragraph headed, “MYSTERY SOLVED,” “We understand that in the course of a few days will appear the ‘Memoirs of the late Colonel D——y; or, Reminiscences of a Rouè, well known in the Fashionable World.’ This little volume bids fair to engross the attention of the higher circles, as it contains, besides innumerable curious, personal, and secret anecdotes, the original love letters of a certain belle fiancée, now residing with a noble family in Grosvenor Square.”

Lady Cecilia saw at once the whole dreadful danger—her own letters to Colonel D’Aubigny they must he! How could they have got them? They would be seen by her husband—published to the whole world—if the general found out they were hers, he would cast her off for ever. If they were believed to be Helen’s—Helen was undone, sacrificed to her folly, her cowardice. “Oh! if I had but told Clarendon, he would have stopped this dreadful, dreadful publication.” And what falsehoods it might contain, she did not even dare to think. All was remorse, terror, confusion—fixed to the spot like one stupified, she stood. Lady Castlefort did not see it—she had been completely engrossed with what she had been writing, she was now looking for her most sentimental seal, and not till she had pressed that seal down and examined the impression, did she look up or notice Cecilia—Then struck indeed with a sense of something unusual—“My dear,” said she, “you have no idea how odd you look—so strange, Cecilia—quite èbahie!” Giving two pulls to the bell as she spoke, and her eyes on the door, impatient for the servant, she added—“After all, Cecilia, Helen Stanley is no relation even—only a friend. Take this note—” to the footman who answered the bell; and the moment he left the room, continuing, in the same tone, to Lady Cecilia, she said—“You will have to give her up at last—that’s all; so you had better make your mind up to it.”

When Lady Cecilia tried to speak, she felt her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth; and when she did articulate, it was in a sort of hoarse sound. “Is the book published?” She held the paper before Lady Castlefort’s eyes, and pointed to the name she could not utter.

“D’Aubigny’s book—is it published, do you mean?” said Lady Castlefort. “Absolutely published, I cannot say, but it is all in print, I know. I do not understand about publishing. There’s something about presentation copies: I know Katrine was wild to have one before any body else, so she is to have the first copy, I know, and, I believe, is to have it this very morning for the people at this breakfast: it is to be the 邦纳布什 of the business.”

“What has Katrine to do with it?—Oh, tell me, quick!”

“Dear me, Cecilia, what a fuss you are in!—you make me quite nervous to look at you. You had better go down to the breakfast-room, and you will hear all about it from the fountain-head.”

“Has Katrine the book or not?” cried Lady Cecilia.

“Bless me! I will inquire, my dear, if you will not look so dreadful.” She rang and coolly asked—“Did that man, that bookseller, Stone, send any parcel or book this morning, do you know, for Lady Katrine?”

“Yes, my lady; Landrum had a parcel for Lady Katrine—it is on the table, I believe.”

“Very well.” The man left the room. Lady Cecilia darted on the brown paper parcel she had seen directed to Lady Katrine, and seized it before the amazed Louisa could prevent her. “Stop, stop!” cried she, springing forward, “stop, Cecilia; Katrine will never forgive me!”

But Lady Cecilia seizing a penknife, cut the first knot. “Oh, Cecilia, I am undone if Katrine comes in! Make haste, make haste! I can only let you have a peep or two. We must do it up again as well as ever,” continued Lady Castlefort, while Lady Cecilia, fast as possible, went on cut, cut, cutting the packthread to bits, and she tore off the brown paper cover, then one of silver paper, that protected the silk binding. Lady Castlefort took up the outer cover and read, “To be returned before two o’clock.”—“What can that mean? Then it is only lent; not her own. Katrine will not understand this—will be outrageously disappointed. I’m sure I don’t care. But here is a note from Stone, however, which may explain it.” She opened and read—“Stone’s respects—existing circumstances make it necessary her ladyship’s copy should be returned. Will be called for at two o’clock.”

“Cecilia, Cecilia, make haste! But Katrine does not know yet—Still she may come up.” Lady Castlefort rang and inquired,—

“Have they done breakfast?”

“Breakfast is over, my lady,” said the servant who answered the bell, “but Landrum thinks the gentlemen and ladies will not be up immediately, on account of one of the ladies being 执行 a poem.”

“Very well, very good,” added her ladyship, as the man left the room. “Then, Cecilia, you will have time enough, for when once they begin performing, as Sylvester calls it, there is no end of it.”

“Oh Heavens!” cried Cecilia, as she turned over the pages, “Oh Heavens! what is here? Such absolute falsehood! Shocking, shocking!” she exclaimed, as she looked on, terrified at what she saw: “Absolutely false—a forgery.”

“Whereabouts are you?” said Lady Castlefort, approaching to read along with her.

“Oh, do not read it,” cried Cecilia, and she hastily closed the book.

“What signifies shutting the book, my dear,” said Louisa, “as if you could shut people’s eyes? I know what it is; I have read it.”

“阅读！”

“Read it! I really can read, though it seems to astonish you.”

“But it is not published?”

“One can read in manuscript.”

“And did you see the manuscript?”

“I had a glimpse. Yes—I know more than Katrine thinks I know.”

“O tell me, Louisa; tell me all,” cried Cecilia.

“I will, but you must never tell that I told it to you.”

“Speak, speak,” cried Cecilia.

“It is a long story,” said Lady Castlefort.

“Make it short then. O tell me quick, Louisa.’”

“There is a literary 点菜,” said Lady Castlefort, a little vain of knowing a literary 点菜; “Churchill being at the head of every thing of that sort, you know, the bookseller brought him the manuscript which Sir Thomas D’Aubigny had offered him, and wanted to know whether it would do or not. Mr. Churchill’s answer was, that it would never do without more pepper and salt, meaning gossip and scandal, and all that. But you are reading on, Cecilia, not listening to me.”

“I am listening, indeed.”

“Then never tell how I came to know every thing. Katrine’s maid has a lover, who is, as she phrases it, one of the gentlemen connected with the press. Now, my Angelique, who cannot endure Katrine’s maid, tells me that this man is only a wonder-maker, a half-crown paragraph writer. So, through Angelique, and indeed from another person—” she stopped; and then went on—“through Angelique it all came up to me.”

“All what?” cried Cecilia; “go on, go on to the facts.”

“I will, if you will not hurry me so. The letters were not in Miss Stanley’s handwriting.”

“No! I am sure of that,” said Cecilia.

“Copies were all that they pretended to be; so they may be forgeries after all, you see.”

“But how did Katrine or Mr. Churchill come by the copies?”

“I have a notion, but of this I am not quite sure—I have a notion, from something I was told by—in short I suspect that Carlos, Lady Davenant’s page, somehow got at them, and gave them, or had them given to the man who was to publish the book. Lady Katrine and Churchill laid their heads together; here, in this very 圣所. They thought I knew nothing, but I knew every thing. I do not believe Horace had anything to do with it, except saying that the love-letters would be just the thing for the public if they were bad enough. I remember, too, that it was he who added the second title, ‘Reminiscences of a Rouè,’ and said something about alliteration’s artful aid. And now,” concluded Lady Castlefort, “it is coming to the grand catastrophe, as Katrine calls it. She has already told the story, and to-day she was to give all her set what she calls ocular demonstration. Cecilia, now, quick, finish; they will be here this instant. Give me the book; let me do it up this minute.”

“No, no; let me put it up,” cried Lady Cecilia, keeping possession of the book and the brown paper. “I am a famous hand at doing up a parcel, as famous as any Bond Street shopman: your hands are not made for such work.”

Any body but Lady Castlefort would have discerned that Lady Cecilia had some further design, and she was herself afraid it would be perceived; but taking courage from seeing what a fool she had to deal with, Lady Cecilia went on more boldly: “Louisa, I must have more packthread; this is all cut to bits.”

“I will ring and ask for some.”

“No, no; do not ring for the footman; he might observe that we had opened the parcel. Cannot you get a string without ringing? Look in that basket.”

“None there, I know,” said Lady Castlefort without stirring.

“In your own room then; Angelique has some.”

“你怎么知道的？”

“I know! never mind how. Go, and she will give you packthread. I must have it before Katrine comes up. So go, Louisa, go.”

“Go,” in the imperative mood, operated, and she went; she did not know why.

That instant Lady Cecilia drew the book out of the half-folded paper, and quick, quick, tore out page after page—every page of those letters that concerned herself or Helen, and into the fire thrust them, and as they blazed held them down bravely—had the boldness to wait till all was black: all the while she trembled, but stood it, and they were burnt, and the book in its brown paper cover was left on the table, and she down stairs, before Lady Castlefort’s dressing-room door opened, and she crossed the hall without meeting a soul except the man in waiting there. The breakfast-room was at the back of the house looking into the gardens, and her carriage at the front-door had never been seen by Lady Katrine, or any of her blue set. She cleared out of the house into her carriage—and off—“To the Park,” said she.—She was off but just in time. The whole tribe came out of the breakfast room before she had turned the corner of the street. She threw herself back in the carriage and took breath, congratulating herself upon this hairbreadth ‘scape. For this hour, this minute, she had escaped!—she was reprieved!

And now what was next to be done? This was but a momentary reprieve. Another copy would be had—no, not till to-morrow though. The sound of the words that had been read from the bookseller’s note by Lady Castlefort, though scarcely noticed at the time, recurred to her now; and there was hope something might to-day be done to prevent the publication. It might still be kept for ever from her husband’s and from Beauclerc’s knowledge. One stratagem had succeeded—others might.

She took a drive round the Park to compose the excessive flurry of her spirits. Letting down all the glasses, she had the fresh air blowing upon her, and ere she was half round, she was able to think of what yet remained to do. Money! Oh! any money she could command she would give to prevent this publication. She was not known to the bookseller—no matter. Money is money from whatever hand. She would trust the matter to no one but herself, and she would go immediately—not a moment to be lost.—“To Stone’s, the bookseller’s.”

Arrived. “Do not give my name; only say, a lady wants to speak to Mr. Stone.”

The people at Mr. Stone’s did not know the livery or the carriage, but such a carriage and such a lady commanded the deference of the shopman. “Please to walk in, madam,” and by the time she had walked in, the man changed madam into your ladyship—“Mr. Stone will be with your ladyship in a moment—only in the warehouse. If your ladyship will please to walk up into the back drawing-room—there’s a fire.” The maid followed to blow it; and while the bellows wheezed and the fire did not burn, Lady Cecilia looked out of the window in eager expectation of seeing Mr. Stone returning from the warehouse with all due celerity. No Mr. Stone, however, appeared; but there was a good fire in the middle of the court-yard, as she observed to the maid who was plying the wheezing bellows; and who answered that they had had a great fire there this hour past “burning of papers.” And at that moment a man came out with his arms full of a huge pile—sheets of a book, Lady Cecilia saw—it was thrown on the fire. Then came out and stood before the fire—could she he mistaken?—impossible—it was like a dream—the general!

Cecilia’s first thought was to run away before she should be seen; but the next moment that thought was abandoned, for the time to execute it was now past. The messenger sent across the yard had announced that a lady in the back drawing-room wanted Mr. Stone. Eyes had looked up—the general had seen and recognised her, and all she could now do was, to recognise him in return, which she did as eagerly and gracefully as possible. The general came up to her directly, not a little astonished that she, whom he fancied at home in her bed, incapacitated by a headache that had prevented her from speaking to him, should be here, so far out of her usual haunts, and, as it seemed, out of her element—“What can bring you here, my dear Cecilia?”

“The same purpose which, if I rightly spell, brought you here, my dear general,” and her eye intelligently glanced at the burning papers in the yard. “Do you know then, Cecilia, what those papers are? How did you know?”

Lady Cecilia told her history, keeping as strictly to facts as the nature of the case admitted. Her headache, of course, she had found much better for the sleep she had taken. She had set off, she told him, as soon as she was able, for Lady Castlefort’s, to inquire into the meaning of the strange whispers of the preceding night. Then she told of the scandalous paragraphs she had seen; how she had looked over the book; and how successfully she had torn out and destroyed the whole chapter; and then how, hoping to be able to prevent the publication, she had driven directly to Mr. Stone’s.

Her husband, with confiding, admiring eyes, looked at her and listened to her, and thought all she said so natural, so kind, that he could not but love her the more for her zeal of friendship, though he blamed her for interfering, in defiance of his caution, “Had you consulted me, or listened to me, my dear Cecilia, this morning, I could have saved you all this trouble; I should have told you that I would settle with Stone, and stop the publication, as I have done.”

“But that copy which had been sent to Lady Katrine, surely I did some good there by burning those pages; for if once it had got among her set, it would have spread like wildfire, you know, Clarendon.”

He acknowledged this, and said, smiling—“Be satisfied with yourself, my love; I acknowledge that you made there a capital 主政变设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

Just then in came Mr. Stone with an account in his hand, which the general stepped forward to receive, and, after one glance at the amount, he took up a pen, wrote, and signed his name to a cheque on his banker. Mr. Stone received it, bowed obsequiously, and assured the general that every copy of the offensive chapter had been withdrawn from the book and burnt—“that copy excepted which you have yourself, general, and that which was sent to Lady Katrine Hawksby, which we expect in every minute, and it shall be sent to Grosvenor Square immediately. I will bring it myself, to prevent all danger.”

The general, who knew there was no danger there, smiled at Cecilia, and told the bookseller that he need take no further trouble about Lady Katrine’s copy; the man bowed, and looking again at the amount of the cheque, retired well satisfied.

“You come home with me, my dear Clarendon, do not you?” said Lady Cecilia.

They drove off. On their way, the general said—“It is always difficult to decide whether to contradict or to let such publications take their course: but in the present case, to stop the scandal instantly and completely was the only thing to be done. There are cases of honour, when women are concerned, where law is too slow: it must not be remedy, it must be prevention. If the finger of scorn dares to point, it must be—cut off.” After a pause of grave thought, he added—“Upon the manner in which Helen now acts will depend her happiness—her character—her whole future life.”

Lady Cecilia summoned all her power to prevent her from betraying herself: the danger was great, for she could not command her fears so completely as to hide the look of alarm with which she listened to the general; but in his eyes her agitation appeared no more than was natural for her to feel about her friend.

“My love,” continued he, “if Helen is worthy of your affection, she will show it now. Her only resource is in perfect truth: tell her so, Cecilia—impress it upon her mind. Would to Heaven I had been able to convince her of this at first! Speak to her strongly, Cecilia; as you love her, impress upon her that my esteem, Beauclerc’s love, the happiness of her life, depend upon her truth!” As he repeated these words, the carriage stopped at their own door.

We left Helen in the back drawing-room, the door bolted, and beginning to read her dreaded task. The paragraphs in the newspapers, we have seen, were sufficiently painful, but when she came to the book itself—to the letters—she was in consternation, greater even than what she had felt in the general’s presence under the immediate urgency of his eye and voice. Her conviction was that in each of these letters, there were some passages, some expressions, which certainly were Cecilia’s, but mixed with others, which as certainly were not hers. The internal evidence appeared to her irresistibly strong: and even in those passages which she knew to be Cecilia’s writing, it too plainly appeared that, however playfully, however delicately expressed, there was more of real attachment for Colonel D’Aubigny than Cecilia had ever allowed Helen to believe; and she felt that Cecilia must shrink from General Clarendon’s seeing these as her letters, after she had herself assured him that he was her first love. The falsehood was here so indubitable, so proved, that Helen herself trembled at the thought of Cecilia’s acknowledging the plain facts to her husband. The time for it was past. Now that they were in print, published perhaps, how must he feel! If even candid confession were made to him, and made for the best motives, it would to him appear only forced by necessity—forced, as he would say to himself, because her friend would not submit to be sacrificed.

Such were Helen’s thoughts on reading the two or three first letters, but, as she went on, her alarm increased to horror. She saw things which she felt certain Cecilia could never have written; yet truth and falsehood were so mixed up in every paragraph, circumstances which she herself had witnessed so misrepresented, that it was all to her inextricable confusion. The passages which were to be marked could not now depend upon her opinion, her belief; they must rest upon Cecilia s integrity—and could she depend upon it? The impatience which she had felt for Lady Cecilia’s return now faded away, and merged in the more painful thought that, when she did come, the suspense would not end—the doubts would never be satisfied.

She lay down upon the sofa and tried to rest, kept herself perfectly still, and resolved to think no more; and, as far as the power of the mind over itself can stay the ever-rising thoughts, she controlled hers, and waited with a sort of forced, desperate composure for the event. Suddenly she heard that knock, that ring, which she knew announced Lady Cecilia’s return. But not Cecilia alone; she heard the general also coming upstairs, but Cecilia first, who did not stop for more than an instant at the drawing-room door:—she looked in, as Helen guessed, and seeing that no one was there, ran very quickly up the next flight of stairs. Next came the general:—on hearing his step, Helen’s anxiety became so intense, that she could not, at the moment he came near, catch the sound or distinguish which way he went. Strained beyond its power, the faculty of hearing seemed suddenly to fail—all was confusion, an indistinct buzz of sounds. The next moment, however, recovering, she plainly heard his step in the front drawing-room, and she knew that he twice walked up and down the whole length of the room, as if in deep thought. Each time as he approached the folding doors she was breathless. At last he stopped, his hand was on the lock—she recollected that the door was bolted, and as he turned the handle she, in a powerless voice, called to tell him, but not hearing her, he tried again, and as the door shook she again tried to speak, but could not. Still she heard, though she could not articulate. She heard him say, “Miss Stanley, are you there? Can I see you?”

But the words—the voice seemed to come from afar—sounded dull and strange. She tried to rise from her seat—found a difficulty—made an effort—stood up—she summoned resolution—struggled—hurried across the room—drew back the bolt—threw open the door—and that was all she could do. In that effort strength and consciousness failed—she fell forward and fainted at the general’s feet. He raised her up, and laid her on the sofa in the inner room. He rang for her maid, and went up-stairs to prevent Cecilia’s being alarmed. He took the matter coolly: he had seen many fainting young ladies, he did not like them—his own Cecilia excepted—in his mind always excepted from every unfavourable suspicion regarding the sex. Helen, on the contrary, was at present subject to them all, and, under the cloud of distrust, he saw in a bad light every thing that occurred; the same appearances which, in his wife, he would have attributed to the sensibility of true feeling, he interpreted in Helen as the consciousness of falsehood, the proof of cowardly duplicity. He went back at once to his original prejudice against her, when, as he first thought, she had been forced upon him in preference to his own sister. He had been afterwards convinced that she had been perfectly free from all double dealing; yet now he slid back again, as people of his character often do, to their first opinion. “I thought so at first, and I find, as I usually do, that my first thought was right.”

What had been but an adverse feeling was now considered as a prescient judgment. And he did not go upstairs the quicker for these thoughts, but calmly and coolly, when he reached Lady Cecilia’s dressing-room, knocked at the door, and, with all the precautions necessary to prevent her from being alarmed, told her what had happened. “You had better not go down, my dear Cecilia, I beg you will not. Miss Stanley has her own maid, all the assistance that can be wanted. My dear, it is not fit for you. I desire you will not go down.”

But Lady Cecilia would not listen, could not be detained; she escaped from her husband, and ran down to Helen. Excessively alarmed she was, and well she might be, knowing herself to be the cause, and not certain in any way how it might end. She found Helen a little recovered, but still pale as white marble; and when Lady Cecilia took her hand, it was still quite cold. She came to herself but very slowly. For some minutes she did not recover perfect consciousness, or clear recollection. She saw figures of persons moving about her, she felt them as if too near, and wished them away; wanted air, but could not say what she wished. She would have moved, but her limbs would not obey her will. At last, when she had with effort half raised her head, it sunk back again before she could distinguish all the persons in the room. The shock of cold water on her forehead revived her; then coming clearly to power of perception, she saw Cecilia bending over her. But still she could not speak, and yet she understood distinctly, saw the affectionate anxiety, too, in her little maid Rose’s countenance; she felt that she loved Rose, and that she could not endure Felicie, who had now come in, and was making exclamations, and advising various remedies, all of which, when offered, Helen declined. It was not merely that Felicie’s talking, and tone of voice, and superabundant action, were too much for her; but that Helen had at this moment a sort of intuitive perception of insincerity, and of exaggeration. In that dreamy state, hovering between life and death, in which people are on coming out of a swoon, it seems as if there was need for a firm hold of reality; the senses and the understanding join in the struggle, and become most acute in their perception of what is natural or what is unnatural, true or false, in the expressions and feelings of the by-standers. Lady Cecilia understood her look, and dismissed Felicie, with all her smelling-bottles. Rose, though not ordered away, judiciously retired as soon as she saw that her services were of no further use, and that there was something upon her young lady’s mind, for which, hartshorn and sal volatile could be of no avail.

Cecilia would have kissed her forehead, but Helen made a slight withdrawing motion, and turned away her face: the next instant, however, she looked up, and taking Cecilia’s hand, pressed it kindly, and said, “You are more to be pitied than I am; sit down, sit down beside me, my poor Cecilia; how you tremble! and yet you do not know what is coming upon you.”

“Yes, yes, I do—I do,” cried Lady Cecilia, and she eagerly told Helen all that had passed, ending with the assurance that the publication had been completely stopped by her dear Clarendon; that the whole chapter containing the letters had been destroyed, that not a single copy had got abroad. “The only one in existence is this,” said she, taking it up as she spoke, and she made a movement as if going to tear out the leaves, but Helen checked her hand, “That must not be, the general desired——”

And almost breathless, yet distinctly, she repeated what the general had said, that he might be called upon to prove which parts were forged, and which true, and that she had promised to mark the passages. “So now, Cecilia, here is a pencil, and mark what is and what is not yours.”

Lady Cecilia instantly took the pencil, and in great agitation obeyed. “Oh, my dear Helen, some of these the general could not think yours. Very wicked these people have been!—so the general said; he was sure, he knew, all could not be yours.”

“Finish! my dear Cecilia,” interrupted Helen; “finish what you have to do, and in this last trial, give me this one proof of your sincerity. Be careful in what you are now doing, mark truly—oh, Cecilia! every word you recollect—as your conscience tells you. Will you, Cecilia? this is all I ask, as I am to answer for it—will you?”

Most fervently she protested she would. She had no difficulty in recollecting, in distinguishing her own; and at first she marked truly, and was glad to separate what was at worst only foolish girlish nonsense from things which had been interpolated to make out the romance; things which never could have come from her mind.

There is some comfort in having our own faults overshadowed, outdone by the greater faults of others. And here it was flagrant wickedness in the editor, and only weakness and imprudence in the writer of the real letters. Lady Cecilia continually solaced her conscience by pointing out to Helen, as she went on, the folly, literally the folly, of the deception she had practised on her husband; and her exclamations against herself were so vehement that Helen would not add to her pain by a single reproach, since she had decided that the time was past for urging her confession to the general. She now only said, “Look to the future, Cecilia, the past we cannot recall. This will be a lesson you can never forget.”

“Oh, never, never can I forget it. You have saved me, Helen.”

Tears and protestations followed these words, and at the moment they were all sincere; and yet, can it be believed? even in this last trial, when it came to this last proof, Lady Cecilia was not perfectly true. She purposely avoided putting her mark of acknowledgment to any of those expressions which most clearly proved her love for Colonel D’Aubigny; for she still said to herself that the time might come, though at present it could not be, when she might make a confession to her husband,—in his joy at the birth of a son, she thought she might venture; she still looked forward to doing justice to her friend at some future period, and to make this easier—to make this possible—as she said to herself, she must now leave out certain expressions, which might, if acknowledged, remain for ever fixed in Clarendon’s mind, and for which she could never be forgiven.

Helen, when she looked over the pages, observed among the unmarked passages some of those expressions which she had thought were Cecilia’s, but she concluded she was mistaken: she could not believe that her friend could at such a moment deceive her, and she was even ashamed of having doubted her sincerity; and her words, look, and manner, now gave assurance of perfect unquestioning confidence.

This delicacy in Helen struck Lady Cecilia to the quick. Ever apt to be more touched by her refined feelings than by any strong appeal to her reason or her principles, she was now shocked by the contrast between her own paltering meanness and her friend’s confiding generosity. As this thought crossed her mind, she stretched out her hand again for the book, took up the pencil, and was going to mark the truth; but, the impulse past, cowardice prevailed, and cowardice whispered, “Helen is looking at me, Helen sees at this moment what I am doing, and, after having marked them as not mine, how can I now acknowledge them?—it is too late—it is impossible.”

“I have done as you desired,” continued she, “Helen, to the best of my ability. I have marked all this, but what can it signify now my dear, except—?”

Helen interrupted her. “Take the book to the general this moment, will you, and tell him that all the passages are marked as he desired; stay, I had better write.”

She wrote upon a slip of paper a message to the same effect, having well considered the words by which she might, without further step in deception, save her friend, and take upon herself the whole blame—the whole hazardous responsibility.

When Cecilia gave the marked book to General Clarendon, he said, as he took it, “I am glad she has done this, though it is unnecessary now, as I was going to tell her if she had not fainted: unnecessary, because I have now in my possession the actual copies of the original letters; I found them here on my return. That good little poetess found them for me at the printer’s—but she could not discover—I have not yet been able to trace where they came from, or by whom they were copied.”

“O let me see them,” cried Lady Cecilia.

“Not yet, my love,” said he; “you would know nothing more by seeing them; they are in a feigned hand evidently.”

“But,” interrupted Cecilia, “you cannot want the book now, when you have the letters themselves;” and she attempted to draw it from his hand, for she instantly perceived the danger of the discrepancies between her marks and the letters being detected. She made a stronger effort to withdraw the book but he held it fast. “Leave it with me now, my dear; I want it; it will settle my opinion as to Helen’s truth.”

Slowly, and absolutely sickened with apprehension, Lady Cecilia withdrew. When she returned to Helen, and found how pale she was and how exhausted she seemed, she entreated her to lie down again and try to rest.

“Yes, I believe I had better rest before I see Granville,” said Helen: “where can he have been all day?”

“With some friend of his, I suppose,” said Cecilia, and she insisted on Helen’s saying no more, and keeping herself perfectly quiet. She farther suggested that she had better not appear at dinner.

“It will be only a family party, some of the general’s relations. Miss Clarendon is to be here, and she is one, you know, trying to the spirits; and she is not likely to be in her most 软 humour this evening, as she has been under a course of the tooth-ache, and has been all day at the dentist’s.”

Helen readily consented to remain in her own room, though she had not so great a dread of Miss Clarendon as Lady Cecilia seemed to feel. Lady Cecilia was indeed in the greatest terror lest Miss Clarendon should have heard some of these reports about Helen and Beauclerc, and would in her blunt way ask directly what they meant, and go on with some of her point-blank questions, which Cecilia feared might be found unanswerable. However, as Miss Clarendon had only just come to town from Wales, and come only about her teeth, she hoped that no reports could have reached her; and Cecilia trusted much to her own address and presence of mind in moments of danger, in turning the conversation the way it should go.

But things were now come to a point where none of the little skilful interruptions or lucky hits, by which she had so frequently profited, could avail her farther than to delay what must be. Passion and character pursue their course unalterably, unimpeded by small external circumstances; interrupted they may be in their progress, but as the stream opposed bears against the obstacle, sweeps it away, or foams and passes by.

Before Lady Cecilia’s toilette was finished her husband was in her dressing-room; came in without knocking,—a circumstance so unusual with him, that Mademoiselle Felicie’s eyes opened to their utmost orbit, and, without waiting for word or look, she vanished, leaving the bracelet half clasped on her lady’s arm.

“Cecilia!” said the general.

He spoke in so stern a tone that she trembled from head to foot; her last falsehood about the letters—all her falsehoods, all her concealments, were, she thought, discovered; unable to support herself, she sank into his arms. He seated her, and went on in a cool, inexorable tone, “Cecilia, I am determined not to sanction by any token of my public approbation this marriage, which I no longer in my private conscience desire or approve; I will not be the person to give Miss Stanley to my ward.”

Lady Cecilia almost screamed: her selfish fears forgotten, she felt only terror for her friend. She exclaimed, “Clarendon, will you break off the marriage? Oh! Helen, what will become of her! Clarendon, what can you mean?”

“I mean that I have compared the passages that Helen marked in the book, with those copies of the letters which were given to the bookseller before the interpolations were made—the letters as Miss Stanley wrote them. The passages in the letters and the passages marked in the book do not agree.”

“Oh, but she might have forgotten, it might be accident,” cried Cecilia, overwhelmed with confusion.

“No, Cecilia,” pursued the General, in a tone which made her heart die within her—“no, Cecilia, it is not accident, it is design. I perceive that every strong expression, every word, in short, which could show her attachment to that man, has been purposely marked as not her own, and the letters themselves prove that they were her own. The truth is not in her.”

In an agitation, which prevented all power of thought, Cecilia exclaimed, “She mistook—she mistook; I could not, I am sure, recollect; she asked me if I remembered any.”

“She consulted you, then?”

“She asked my advice,—told me that——”

“I particularly requested her,” interrupted the general, “not to ask your advice; I desired her not to speak to you on the subject—not to consult you. Deceit—double-dealing in every thing she does, I find.”

“No, no, it is my fault; every thing I say and do is wrong,” cried Lady Cecilia. “I recollect now—it was just after her fainting, when I brought the book, and when she took it to mark she really was not able. It was not that she consulted me, but I forced my counsel upon her. I looked over the letters, and said what I thought—if anybody is wrong, it is I, Clarendon. Oh, do not visit my sins upon Helen so cruelly!—do not make me the cause of her ruin, innocent creature! I assure you, if you do this, I never could forgive myself.”

The general looked at her in silence: she did not dare to meet his eyes, desperately anxious as she was to judge by his countenance what was passing within. He clasped for her that bracelet which her trembling hands were in vain attempting to close.

“Poor thing, how its heart beats!” said her husband, pressing her to him as he sat down beside her. Cecilia thought she might venture to speak.—“You know, my dear Clarendon, I never oppose—interfere with—any determination of yours when once it is fixed—”

“This is fixed,” interrupted the general.

“But after all you have done for her this very day, for which I am sure she—I am sure I thank you from my soul, would you now undo it all?”

“She is saved from public shame,” said the general; “from private contempt I cannot save her: who can save those who have not truth? But my determination is fixed; it is useless to waste words on the subject. Esther is come; I must go to her. And now, Cecilia, I conjure you, when you see Beauclerc—I have not seen him all day—I do not know where he has been—I conjure you—-I command you not to interfere between him and Helen.”

“But you would not have me give her up! I should be the basest of human beings.”

“I do not know what you mean, Cecilia; you have done for her all that an honourable friend could do.”

“I am not an honourable friend,” was Cecilia’s bitter consciousness, as she pressed her hand upon her heart, which throbbed violently with contending fears.

“You have done all that an honourable friend could do; more must not be done,” continued the general. “And now recollect, Cecilia, that you are my wife as well as Miss Stanley’s friend;” and, as he said these words, he left the room.

That knowing French minister, Louvois, whose power is said to have been maintained by his surpassing skill in collecting and spreading secret and swift intelligence, had in his pay various classes of unsuspected agents, dancing-masters, fencing-masters, language-masters, milliners, hairdressers and barbers—dentists, he would have added, had he lived to our times; and not all Paris could have furnished him with a person better suited to his purpose than the most fashionable London dentist of the day, St. Leger Swift. Never did Frenchman exceed him in volubility of utterance, or in gesture significant, supplying all that words might fear or fail to tell; never was he surpassed by prattling barber or privileged hunchback in ancient or modern story, Arabian or Persian; but he was not a malicious, only a coxcomb scandal-monger, triumphing in his sçavoir dire. St. Leger Swift was known to everybody—knew everybody in London that was to be or was not to be known, every creature dead or alive that ever had been, or was about to be celebrated, fashionable, or rich, or clever, or notorious, 诡计多端的 or murderer, about to be married or about to be hanged—for that last class of persons enjoys in our days a strange kind of heroic celebrity, of which Voltaire might well have been jealous. St, Leger was, of course, hand and glove with all the royal family; every illustrious personage—every most illustrious personage—had in turn sat in his chair; he had had all their heads, in their turns, in his hands, and he had capital anecdotes and sayings of each, with which he charmed away the sense of pain in loyal subjects. But with scandal for the fair was he specially provided. Never did man or woman skim the surface tittle-tattle of society, or dive better, breathless, into family mysteries; none, with more careless air, could at the same time talk and listen—extract your news and give you his 点点滴滴, or tell the secret which you first reveal. There was in him and about him such an air of reckless, cordial coxcombry, it warmed the coldest, threw the most cautious off their guard, brought out family secrets as if he had been one of your family—your secret purpose as though he had been a secular father confessor; as safe every thing told to St. Leger Swift, he would swear to you, as if known only to yourself: he would swear, and you would believe, unless peculiarly constituted, as was the lady who, this morning, took her seat in his chair—

Miss Clarendon. She was accompanied by her aunt, Mrs. Pennant.

“Ha! old lady and young lady, fresh from the country. Both, I see, persons of family—of condition,” said St. Leger to himself. On that point his practised eye could not mistake, even at first glance; and accordingly it was really doing himself a pleasure, and these ladies, as he conceived it, a pleasure, a service, and an honour, to put them, immediately on their arrival in town, au courant du jour. Whether to pull or not to pull a tooth that had offended, was the professional question before him.

Miss Clarendon threw back her head, and opened her mouth.

“Fine teeth, fine! Nothing to complain of here surely,” said St. Leger. “As fine a show of ivory as ever I beheld. ‘Pon my reputation, I know many a fine lady who would give—all but her eyes for such a set.”

“I must have this tooth out,” said Miss Clarendon, pointing to the offender.

“I see; certainly, ma’am, as you say.”

“I hope, sir, you don’t think it necessary,” said her tender-hearted aunt: “if it could be any way avoided——”

“By all means, madam, as you say. We must do nothing without consideration.”

“I have considered, my dear aunt,” said Miss Clarendon. “I have not slept these three nights.

“But you do not consider that you caught cold getting up one night for me; and it may be only an accidental cold, my dear Esther. I should be so sorry if you were to lose a tooth. Don’t be in a hurry; once gone, you cannot get it back again.”

“Never was a truer, wiser word spoken, madam,” said St. Leger, swiftly whisking himself round, and as if looking for some essential implement. “May be a mere twinge, accidental cold, rheumatism; or may be——My dear madam” (to the aunt), “I will trouble you; let me pass. I beg pardon—one word with you,” and with his back to the patient in the chair, while he rummaged among ivory-handled instruments on the table, he went on in a low voice to the aunt—“Is she nervous? is she nervous, eh, eh, eh?”

Mrs. Pennant looked, but did not hear, for she was a little deaf.

“Yes, yes, yes; I see how it is. A word to the wise,” replied he, with a nod of intelligence. “Every lady’s nervous now-a-days, more or less. Where the deuce did I put this thing? Yes, yes—nerves;—all the same to me; know how to manage. Make it a principle—professional, to begin always by talking away nerves. You shall see, you shall see, my dearest madam; you shall soon see—you shall hear, you shall hear how I’ll talk this young lady—your niece—out of her nerves fairly. Beg pardon, Miss——, one instant. I am searching for—where have I put it?”

“I beg your pardon, sir: I am a little deaf,” said Mrs. Pennant.

“Deaf—hey? Ha! a little deaf. So everybody is now-a-days; even the most illustrious personages, more or less. Death and deafness common to all—mors omnibus. I have it. Now, my dear young lady, let us have another look and touch at these beautiful teeth. Your head will do very—vastly well, my dear ma’am—Miss——um, um, um!” hoping the name would be supplied. But that Miss Clarendon did not tell.

So raising his voice to the aunt as he went on looking, or seeming to look, at the niece’s tooth, he continued rapidly—“From Wales you are, ma’am? a beautiful country Wales, ma’am. Very near being born there myself, like, ha, ha, ha! that Prince of Wales—first Prince—Caernarvon Castle—you know the historical anecdote. Never saw finer teeth, upon my reputation. Are you ladies, may I ask, for I’ve friends in both divisions—are you North or South Wales, eh, eh?”

“South, sir. Llansillen.”

“Ay, South. The most picturesque certainly. Llansillen, Llansillen; know it; know everybody ten miles round. Respectable people—all—very; most respectable people come up from Wales continually. Some of our best blood from Wales, as a great personage observed lately to me,—Thick, thick! not thicker blood than the Welsh. His late Majesty, 关于, was pleased to say to me once—”

“But,” interrupted Miss Clarendon, “what do you say to my tooth?”

“Sound as a roach, my dear ma’am; I will insure it for a thousand pounds.”

“But that, the tooth you touch, is not the tooth I mean: pray look at this, sir?”

“Excuse me, my dear madam, a little in my light,” said he to the aunt. “May I beg the favour of your name?”

“Pennant! ah! ah! ah!” with his hands in uplifted admiration—“I thought so—Pennant. I said so to myself, for I know so many Pennants—great family resemblance—Great naturalist of that name—any relation? Oh yes—No—I thought so from the first. Yes—and can assure you, to my private certain knowledge, that man stood high on the pinnacle of favour with a certain royal personage,—for, often sitting in this very chair—

“Keep your mouth open—a little longer—little wider, my good Miss Pennant. Here’s a little something for me to do, nothing of any consequence—only touch and go—nothing to be taken away, no, no, must not lose one of these fine teeth. That most illustrious personage said one day to me, sitting in this very chair—‘Swift,’ said he, ‘St. Leger Swift,’ familiarly, condescendingly, colloquially—‘St. Leger Swift, my good fellow,’ said he—

“But positively, my dear Miss—um, um, if you have not patience—you must sit still—pardon me, professionally I must be peremptory. Impossible I could hurt—can’t conceive—did not touch—only making a perquisition—inquisition—say what you please, but you are nervous, ma’am; I am only taking a general survey.

“A-propos—general survey—General—a friend of mine, General Clarendon is just come to town. My ears must have played me false, but I thought my man said something like Clarendon when he showed you up.”

No answer from Miss Clarendon, who held her mouth open wide, as desired, resolved not to satisfy his curiosity, but to let him blunder on. “Be that as it may, General Clarendon’s come to town—fine teeth he has too—and a fine kettle of fish—not very elegant, but expressive still—he and his ward have made, of that marriage announced. Fine young man, though, that Beauclerc—finest young man, almost, I ever saw!”

But here Mr. St. Leger Swift, starting suddenly, withdrawing his hand from Miss Clarendon’s mouth, exclaimed,—

“My finger, ma’am! but never mind, never mind, all in the day’s work. Casualty—contingencies—no consequence. But as I was saying, Mr. Granville Beauclerc——”

Then poured out, on the encouragement of one look of curiosity from Mrs. Pennant, all the 在滴滴 of Lady Katrine Hawksby, and all her chorus, and all the best authorities; and St. Leger Swift was ready to pledge himself to the truth of every word. He positively knew that the marriage was off, and thought, as everybody did, that the young gentleman was well off too; for besides the young lady’s great fortune turning out not a 下—and here he supplied the half-told tale by a drawn-up ugly face and shrugging gesture.

“Shocking! shocking! all came to an éclat—esclandre; a scene quite, last night, I am told, at my friend Lady Castlefort’s. Sad—sad—so young a lady! But to give you a general idea, love letters to come out in the Memoirs of that fashionable Roué—friend of mine too—fine fellow as ever breathed—only a little—you understand; Colonel D’Aubigny—Poor D’Atibigny, heigho!—only if the book comes out—Miss Stanley—”

Mrs. Pennant looked at her niece in benevolent anxiety; Miss Clarendon was firmly silent; but St. Leger, catching from the expression of both ladies’ countenances, that they were interested in the contrary direction to what he had anticipated, turned to the right about, and observed,—

“This may be all scandal, one of the innumerable daily false reports that are always flying about town; scandal all, I have no doubt—Your head a little to the right, if you please—And the publication will be stopped, of course, and the young lady’s friends—you are interested for her, I see; so am I—always am for the young and fair, that’s my foible; and indeed, confidentially I can inform you—If you could keep your head still, my dear madam.”

But Miss Clarendon could bear it no longer; starting from under his hand, she exclaimed, “No more, thank you—no more at present, sir: we can call another day—no more:” and added as she hastily left the room, “Better bear the toothache,” and ran down stairs. Mrs. Pennant slipped into the dentist’s hand, as he pulled the bell, a double fee; for though she did not quite think he deserved it much, yet she felt it necessary to make amends for her niece’s way of running off, which might not be thought quite civil.

“Thank you, ma’am—thank ye, ma’am—not the least occasion—don’t say a word about it—Young lady’s nervous, said so from the first. Nerves! nerves! all—open the door there—Nerves all,” were the last words, at the top of the stairs, St. Leger Swift was heard to say.

And the first words of kind Mrs. Pennant, as soon as she was in the carriage and had drawn up the glass, were, “Do you know, Esther, my dear, I am quite sorry for this poor Miss Stanley. Though I don’t know her, yet, as you described her to me, she was such a pretty, young, interesting creature! I am quite sorry.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Miss Clarendon.

“But even to have such things said must be so distressing to her and to her lover, your friend Mr. Beauclerc—so very distressing!”

“I hope they are not such fools as to be distressed about such stuff. All this insufferable talking man’s invention, I dare say.”

“Why do people tell such things?” said Mrs. Pennant. “But, my dear Esther, even supposing it to be all false, it is shocking to have such things spoken of. I pity the poor young lady and her lover. Do you not think, my dear, we shall be able to inquire into the truth of the matter from your brother this evening? He must know, he ought to know about it: whether the report be true or false, he should hear of it. He can best judge what should be done, if any thing should be done, my dear.”

Miss Clarendon quite agreed with all this; indeed she almost always agreed with this aunt of hers, who, perhaps from the peculiar gentleness of her manner, joined to a simplicity and sincerity of character she could never doubt, had an ascendency over her, which no one, at first view, could have imagined. They had many country commissions to execute this morning, which naturally took up a good deal of aunt Pennant’s attention. But between each return from shop to carriage, in the intervals between one commission off her hands and another on her mind, she returned regularly to “that poor Miss Stanley, and those love-letters!” and she sighed. Dear kind-hearted old lady! she had always a heart, as well as a hand, open as day to melting charity—charity in the most enlarged sense of the word: charity in judging as well as charity in giving. She was all indulgence for human nature, for youth and love especially.

“We must take care, my dear Esther,” said she, “to be at General Clarendon’s early, as you will like to have some little time with him to yourself before any one else arrives—shall you not, my dear?”

“Certainly,” replied Miss Clarendon; “I shall learn the truth from my brother in five minutes, if Lady Cecilia does not come between us.”

“Nay, my dear Esther, I cannot think so ill of Lady Cecilia; I cannot believe—”

“No, my dear aunt, I know you cannot think ill of any body. Stay till you know Lady Cecilia Clarendon as I do. If there is any thing wrong in this business, you will find that some falsehood of hers is at the bottom of it.”

“Oh, my dear, do not say so before you know; perhaps, as you thought at first, we shall find that it is all only a mistake of that giddy dentist’s; for your brother’s sake try to think as well as you can of his wife; she is a charming agreeable creature, I am sure.”

“You’ve only seen her once, my dear aunt,” said Miss Clarendon. “For my brother’s sake I would give up half her agreeableness for one ounce—for one scruple—of truth.”

“Well, well, take it with some grains of allowance, my dear niece; and, at any rate, do not suffer yourself to be so prejudiced as to conceive she can be in fault in this business.”

“We shall see to-day,” said Miss Clarendon; “I will not be prejudiced; but I remember hearing at Florence that this Colonel D’Aubigny had been an admirer of Lady Cecilia’s. I will get at the truth.”

With this determination, and in pursuance of the resolve to be early, they were at General Clarendon’s full a quarter of an hour before the arrival of any other company; but Lady Cecilia entered so immediately after the general, that Miss Clarendon had no time to speak with her brother alone. Determined, however, as she was, to get at the truth, without preface, or even smoothing her way to her object, she rushed into the middle of things at once. “Have you heard any reports about Miss Stanley, brother?”

“是的。”

“And you, Lady Cecilia?”

“是的。”

“你听到了什么？”

Lady Cecilia was silent, looked at the general, and left it to him to speak as much or as little as he pleased. She trusted to his laconic mode of answering, which, without departing from truth, defied curiosity. Her trust in him upon the present occasion was, however, a little disturbed by her knowledge of his being at this moment particularly displeased with Helen. But, had she known the depths as well as she knew the surface of his character, her confidence in his caution would have been increased, instead of being diminished by this circumstance: Helen was lost in his esteem, but she was still under his protection; her secrets were not only sacred, but, as far as truth and honour could admit, he would still serve and save her. Impenetrable, therefore, was his look, and brief was his statement to his sister. A rascally bookseller had been about to publish a book, in which were some letters which paragraphs in certain papers had led the public to believe were Miss Stanley’s; the publication had been stopped, the offensive chapter suppressed, and the whole impression destroyed.

“But, brother,” pursued Miss Clarendon, “were the letters Miss Stanley’s, or not? You know I do not ask from idle curiosity, but from regard for Miss Stanley;” and she turned her inquiring eyes full upon Lady Cecilia.

“I believe, my dear Esther,” said Lady Cecilia, “I believe we had better say no more; you had better inquire no further.”

“That must be a bad case which can bear no inquiry,” said Miss Clarendon; “which cannot admit any further question, even from one most disposed to think well of the person concerned—a desperately bad case.”

“Bad! no, Esther. It would be cruel of you so to conclude: and falsely it would be—might be; indeed, Esther! my dear Esther!——” Her husband’s eyes were upon Lady Cecilia, and she did not dare to justify Helen decidedly; her imploring look and tone, and her confusion, touched the kind aunt, but did not stop the impenetrable niece.

“Falsely, do you say? Do you say, Lady Cecilia, that it would be to conclude falsely? Perhaps not falsely though, upon the data given to me. The data may be false.”

“Data! I do not know what you mean exactly, Esther,” said Lady Cecilia, in utter confusion.

“I mean exactly what I say,” pursued Miss Clarendon; “that if I reason wrong, and come to a false conclusion, or what you call a cruel conclusion, it is not my fault, but the fault of those who do not plainly tell me the facts.”

She looked from Lady Cecilia to her brother, and from her brother to Lady Cecilia. On her brother no effect was produced: calm, unalterable, looked he; as though his face had been turned to stone. Lady Cecilia struggled in vain to be composed. “I wish I could tell you, Esther,” said she; “but facts cannot always—all facts—even the most innocent—that is, even with the best intentions—cannot always be all told, even in the defence of one’s best friend.”

“If this be the best defence you can make for your best friend, I am glad you will never have to defend me, and I am sorry for Helen Stanley.”

“Oh, my dear Esther!” said her aunt, with a remonstrating look; for, though she had not distinctly heard all that was said, she saw that things were going wrong, and that Esther was making them worse. “Indeed, Esther, my dear, we had better let this matter rest.”

“Let this matter rest!” repeated Miss Clarendon; “that is not what you would say, my dear aunt, if you were to hear any evil report of me. If any suspicion fell like a blast on my character you would never say ‘let it rest.’”

Fire lighted in her brother’s eyes, and the stone face was all animated, and he looked sudden sympathy, and he cried, “You are right, sister, in principle, but wrong in—fact.”

“Set me right where only I am wrong then,” cried she.

He turned to stone again, and her aunt in a low voice, said, “Not now.”

“Now or never,” said the sturdy champion; “it is for Miss Stanley’s character. You are interested for her, are not you, aunt?”

“Certainly, I am indeed; but we do not know all the circumstances—we cannot—”

“But we must. You do not know, brother, how public these reports are. Mr. St. Leger Swift, the dentist, has been chattering to us all morning about them. So, to go to the bottom of the business at once, will you, Lady Cecilia, answer me one straight-forward question?”

Straight-forward question! what is coming? thought Lady Cecilia: her face flushed, and taking up a hand-screen, she turned away, as if from the scorching fire; but it was not a scorching fire, as everybody, or at least as Miss Clarendon, could see. The face turned away from Miss Clarendon was full in view of aunt Pennant, who was on her other side; and she, seeing the distressed state of the countenance, pitied, and gently laying her hand upon Lady Cecilia’s arm, said, in her soft low voice, “This must be a very painful subject to you, Lady Cecilia. I am sorry for you.”

“Thank you,” said Lady Cecilia, pressing her hand with quick gratitude for her sympathy. “It is indeed to me a painful subject, for Helen has been my friend from childhood, and I have so much reason for loving her!”

Many contending emotions struggled in Cecilia’s countenance, and she could say no more: but what she had said, what she had looked, had been quite enough to interest tenderly in her favour that kind heart to which it was addressed; and Cecilia’s feeling was true at the instant; she forgot all but Helen; the screen was laid down; tears stood in her eyes—those beautiful eyes! “If I could but tell you the whole—oh if I could! without destroying——”

Miss Clarendon at this moment placed herself close opposite to Cecilia, and, speaking so low that neither her brother nor her aunt could hear her, said, “Without destroying yourself, or your friend—which?”

Lady Cecilia could not speak.

“You need not—I am answered,” said Miss Clarendon; and returning to her place, she remained silent for some minutes.

The general rang, and inquired if Mr. Beauclerc had come in.

“没有。”

The general made no observation and then began some indifferent conversation with Mrs. Pennant, in which Lady Cecilia forced herself to join; she dreaded even Miss Clarendon’s silence—that grim repose,—and well she might.

“D’Aubigny’s Memoirs, I think, was the title of the book, aunt, that the dentist talked of? That is the book you burnt, is not it, brother?—a chapter in that book?”

“是的，”将军说。

And again Miss Clarendon was silent; for though she well recollected what she had heard at Florence, and however strong were her suspicions, she might well pause; for she loved her brother before every thing but truth and justice,—she loved her brother too much to disturb his confidence. “I have no proof,” thought she; “I might destroy his happiness by another word, and I may be wrong.”

“But shall not we see Miss Stanley?” said Mrs. Pennant.

Lady Cecilia was forced to explain that Helen was not very well, would not appear till after dinner—nothing very much the matter—a little faintish.

“Fainted,” said the general.

“Yes, quite worn out—she was at Lady Castlefort’s last night—such a crowd!” She went on to describe its city horrors.

“But where is Mr. Beauclerc all this time?” said Miss Clarendon: “has he fainted too? or is he faintish?”

“Not likely,” said Lady Cecilia; “faint heart never won fair lady. He is not of the faintish sort.”

At this moment a thundering knock at the door announced the rest of the company, and never was company more welcome. But Beauclerc did not appear. Before dinner was served, however, a note came from him to the general. Lady Cecilia stretched out her hand for it, and read,

“MY DEAR FRIENDS,—I am obliged to dine out of town. I shall not return to-night, but you will see me at breakfast-time to-morrow. Yours ever, GRANVILLE BEAUCLERC.”

Cockburn now entered with a beautiful bouquet of hot-house flowers, which, he said, Mr. Beauclerc’s man had brought with the note, and which were, he said, for Miss Stanley. Lady Cecilia’s countenance grew radiant with joy, and she exclaimed, “Give them to me,—I must have the pleasure of taking them to her myself.”

And she flew off with them. Aunt Pennant smiled on her as she passed, and, turning to her niece as Lady Cecilia left the room, said, “What a bright creature! so warm, so affectionate!” Miss Clarendon was indeed struck with the indisputably natural sincere satisfaction and affection in Cecilia’s countenance; and, herself of such a different nature, could not comprehend the possibility of such contradiction in any character: she could not imagine the existence of such variable, transitory feelings—she could not believe any human being capable of sacrificing her friend to save herself, while she still so loved her victim, could still feel such generous sympathy for her. She determined at least to suspend her judgment; she granted Lady Cecilia a reprieve from her terrific questions and her as terrific looks. Cecilia recovered her presence of mind, and dinner went off delightfully, to her at least, with the sense of escape in recovered self-possession, and “spirits light, to every joy in tune.”

From the good-breeding of the company there was no danger that the topic she dreaded should be touched upon. Whatever reports might have gone forth, whatever any one present might have heard, nothing would assuredly be said of her friend Miss Stanley, to her, or before her, unless she or the general introduced the subject; and she was still more secure of his discretion than of her own. The conversation kept safe on London-dinner generalities and frivolities. Yet often things that were undesignedly said touched upon the taboo’d matter; and those who knew when, where, and how it touched, looked at or from one another, and almost equally dangerous was either way of looking. Such perfect neutrality of expression is not given to all men in these emergencies as to General Clarendon.

The dessert over, out of the dinner-room and in the drawing-room, the ladies alone together, things were not so pleasant to Lady Cecilia. Curiosity peeped out more and more in great concern about Miss Stanley’s health; and when ladies trifled over their coffee, and saw through all things with their half-shut eyes, they asked, and Lady Cecilia answered, and parried, and explained, and her conscience winced, and her countenance braved, and Miss Clarendon listened with that dreadfully good memory, that positive point-blank recollection, which permits not the slightest variation of statement. Her doubts and her suspicions returned, but she was silent; and sternly silent she remained the rest of the evening.

If “trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of Holy Writ,” and that they are no one since the time of Othello could ever doubt, it may be some consolation to observe, on the credit side of human nature, that, to those who are not cursed with a jealous infirmity, trifles light as air are often confirmations strong of the constancy of affection. Well did Lady Cecilia know this when she was so eager to be the bearer of the flowers which were sent by Beauclerc. She foresaw and enjoyed the instant effect, the quick smile, and blush of delight with which that bouquet was received by Helen.

“Oh, thank you! How kind of him!” and “all’s well,” was her immediate conclusion. When she saw his note, she never even took notice that he did not particularly mention her. The flowers from him were enough; she knew his sincerity so well, trusted to it so completely, that she was quite sure, if he had been angry with her, he would not have sent these tokens of his love,—slight tokens, though they were all-sufficient for her. Her fears had taken but one direction, and in that direction they were all dispelled. He would be at breakfast to-morrow, when she should know where he had been, and what had detained him from her the whole of this day. She told Cecilia that she was now quite well, but that she would not attempt to go down stairs. And Cecilia left her happy, so far at least; and when she was alone with her flowers, she doubly enjoyed them, inhaling the fragrance of each which she knew he particularly liked, and thanking him in her heart for the careful choice, for she was certain that they were not accidentally put together. Some of them were associated with little circumstances known only to themselves, awakening recollections of bright, happy moments, and selected, she was sure, with reference to a recent conversation they had had on the language of flowers.

Whether Helen fancied half this, or whether it was all true, it had the effect of soothing and pleasing her anxious, agitated mind; and she was the more ready to indulge in that pleasant reverie, from all that she had previously suffered herself, and all that she feared Beauclerc had yet to endure. She knew too well how much these reports would affect him—and hear them he must. She considered what trials he had already borne, and might still have to bear, for her sake, whatever course she might now pursue. Though soon, very soon, the whole would be told to him, yet still, though she might stand clear in his eyes as to the main points, he must, and would blame her weakness in first consenting to this deception—he who was above deceit. She had not absolutely 告诉, but she had 承认 a falsehood; she had 担任 a falsehood. This she could not extenuate. Her motive at first, to save Lady Davenant’s life, was good; but then her weakness afterwards, in being persuaded time after time by Cecilia, could not well be excused. She was conscious that she had sunk step by step, dragged down that slippery path by Cecilia, instead of firmly making a stand, as she ought to have done, and up-holding by her own integrity her friend’s failing truth. With returning anguish of self-reproach, she went over and over these thoughts; she considered the many unforeseen circumstances that had occurred. So much public shame, so much misery had been brought upon herself and on all she loved, by this one false step! And how much more might still await her, notwithstanding all that best of friends, the general, had done! She recollected how much he had done for her!—thinking of her too, as he must, with lowered esteem, and that was the most painful thought of all;—to Beauclerc she could and would soon clear her truth, but to the general—never, perhaps, completely!

Her head was leaning on her hand, as she was sitting deep in these thoughts, when she was startled by an unusual knock at her door. It was Cockburn with a packet, which General Clarendon had ordered him to deliver into Miss Stanley’s own hands. The instant she saw the packet she knew that it contained the book; and on opening it she found manuscript letters inserted between the marked pages, and there was a note from General Clarendon. She trembled—she foreboded ill.

The note began by informing Miss Stanley how the enclosed manuscript letters came into General Clarendon’s hands from a person whom Miss Stanley had obliged, and who had hoped in return to do her some service. The general next begged Miss Stanley to understand that these letters had been put into his possession since his conversation with her at breakfast time; his only design in urging her to mark her share in the printed letters had been to obtain her authority for serving her to the best of his ability; but he had since compared them:—and then came references, without comment, to the discrepancies between the marked passages, the uniform character of the omissions, followed only by a single note of admiration at each from the general’s pen. And at last, in cold polite phrase, came his regret that he had not been able to obtain that confidence which he had trusted he had deserved, and his renunciation of all future interference in her affairs—或担忧, had been written, but a broad dash of the pen had erased the superfluous words; and then came the inevitable conclusion, on which Helen’s eyes fixed, and remained immovable for some time—that determination which General Clarendon had announced to his wife in the first heat of indignation, but which, Lady Cecilia had hoped, could be evaded, changed, postponed—would not at least be so suddenly declared to Helen; therefore she had given her no hint, had in no way prepared her for the blow,—and with the full force of astonishment it came upon her—“General Clarendon cannot have the pleasure he had proposed to himself, of giving Miss Stanley at the altar to his ward. He cannot by any public act of his attest his consent to that marriage, of which, in his private opinion, he no longer approves.”

“And he is right. O Cecilia!” was Helen’s first thought, when she could think after this shock—not of her marriage, not of herself, not of Beauclerc, but of Cecilia’s falsehood—Cecilia’s selfish cowardice, she thought, and could not conceive it possible,—could not believe it, though it was there. “Incredible—yet proved—there—there—before her eyes-brought home keen to her heart! after all! at such a time—after her most solemn promise, with so little temptation, so utterly false—with every possible motive that a good mind could have to be true—in this last trial—her friend’s whole character at stake—ungenerous—base! O Cecilia! how different from what I thought you—or how changed! And I have helped to bring her to this!—I—I have been the cause.—I will not stay in this house—I will leave her. To save her—to save myself—save my own truth and my own real character—let the rest go as it will—the world think what it may! Farther and farther, lower and lower, I have gone: I will not go lower—I will struggle up again at any risk, at any sacrifice. This is a sacrifice Lady Davenant would approve of: she said that if ever I should be convinced that General Clarendon did not wish me to be his guest—if he should ever cease to esteem me—I should go, that instant—and I will go. But where? To whom could she fly, to whom turn? The Collingwoods were gone; all her uncle’s friends passed rapidly through her recollection. Since she had been living with General and Lady Cecilia Clarendon, several had written to invite her; but Helen knew a little more of the world now than formerly, and she felt that there was not one, no, not one of all these, to whom she could now, at her utmost need, turn and say, ‘I am in distress, receive me! my character is attacked, defend me! my truth is doubted, believe in me!’” And, her heart beating with anxiety, she tried to think what was to be done. There was an old Mrs. Medlicott, who had been a housekeeper of her uncle’s, living at Seven Oaks—she would go there—she should be safe—she should be independent. She knew that she was then in town, and was to go to Seven Oaks the next day; she resolved to send Rose early in the morning to Mrs. Medlicott’s lodging, which was near Grosvenor Square, to desire her to call at General Clarendon’s as she went out of town, at eight o’clock. She could then go with her to Seven Oaks; and, by setting out before Cecilia could be up, she should avoid seeing her again.

There are minds which totally sink, and others that wonderfully rise, under the urgency of strong motive and of perilous circumstance. It is not always the mind apparently strongest or most daring that stands the test. The firm of principle are those most courageous in time of need. Helen had determined what her course should be, and, once determined, she was calm. She sat down and wrote to General Clarendon.

“MISS STANLEY regrets that she cannot explain to General Clarendon the circumstances which have so much displeased him. She assures him that no want of confidence has been, on her part, the cause; but she cannot expect that, without further explanation, he should give her credit for sincerity. She feels that with his view of her conduct, and in his situation, his determination is right,—that it is what she has deserved,—that it is just towards his ward and due to his own character. She hopes, however, that he will not think it necessary to announce to Mr. Beauclerc his determination of withdrawing his approbation and consent to his marriage, when she informs him that it will now never be by her claimed or accepted. She trusts that General Clarendon will permit her to take upon herself the breaking off this union. She encloses a letter to Mr. Beauclerc, which she begs may be given to him to-morrow. General Clarendon will find she has dissolved their engagement as decidedly as he could desire, and that her decision will be irrevocable. And since General Clarendon has ceased to esteem her, Miss Stanley cannot longer accept his protection, or encroach upon his hospitality. She trusts that he will not consider it as any want of respect, that she has resolved to retire from his family as soon as possible. She is certain of having a safe and respectable home with a former housekeeper of her uncle Dean Stanley’s, who will call for her at eight o’clock to-morrow, and take her to Seven Oaks, where she resides. Miss Stanley has named that early hour, that she may not meet Mr. Beauclerc before she goes; she wishes also to avoid the struggle and agony of parting with Lady Cecilia. She entreats General Clarendon will prevent Lady Cecilia from attempting to see her in the morning, and permit her to go unobserved out of the house at her appointed hour.

“So now farewell, my dear friend—yes, friend, this last time you must permit me to call you; for such I feel you have ever been, and ever would have been, to me, if my folly would have permitted. Believe me—notwithstanding the deception of which I acknowledge I have been guilty towards you, General Clarendon—I venture to say, 相信我, I am not ungrateful. At this instant my heart swells with gratitude, while I pray that you may be happy—happy as you deserve to be. But you will read this with disdain, as mere idle words: so be it. Farewell! HELEN STANLEY.”

Next, she was to write to Beauclerc himself. Her letter was as follows:—

“With my whole heart, dear Granville, I thank you for the generous confidence you have shown towards me, and for the invariable steadiness of your faith and love. For your sake, I rejoice. One good has at least resulted from the trials you have gone through: you must now and hereafter feel sure of your own strength of mind. With me it has been different, for I have not a strong mind. I have been all weakness, and must now be miserable; but wicked I will not be—and wicked I should be if I took advantage of your confiding love. I must disappoint your affection, but your confidence I will not betray. When I put your love to that test which it has so nobly stood, I had hoped that a time would come when all doubts would be cleared up, and when I could reward your constancy by the devotion of my whole happy life—but that hope is past: I cannot prove my innocence—I will no longer allow you to take it upon my assertion. I cannot indeed, with truth, even assert that I have done no wrong; for though I am not false, I have gone on step by step in deception, and might go on, I know not how far, nor to what dreadful consequences, if I did not now stop—and I do stop. On my own head be the penalty of my fault—upon my own happiness—my own character: I will not involve yours—therefore we part. You have not yet heard all that has been said of me; but you soon will, and you will feel, as I do, that I am not fit to be your wife. Your wife should not be suspected; I have been—I am. All the happiness I can ever have in this world must be henceforth in the thought of having saved from misery—if not secured the happiness of those I love. Leave me this hope—Oh, Granville, do not tell me, do not make me believe that you will never be happy without me! You will—indeed you will. I only pray Heaven that you may find love as true as mine, and strength to abide by the truth! Do not write to me—do not try to persuade me to change my determination: it is irrevocable. Further writing or meeting could be only useless anguish to us both. Give me the sole consolation I can now have, and which you alone can give—let me hear from Cecilia that you and your noble-minded guardian are, after I am gone, as good friends as you were before you knew me. I shall be gone from this house before you are here again; I cannot stay where I can do no good, and might do much evil by remaining even a few hours longer. As it is, comfort your generous heart on my account, with the assurance that I am sustained by the consciousness that I am now, to the best of my power, doing right. Adieu, Granville! Be happy! you can—you have done no wrong. Be happy, and that will console

“Your affectionate HELEN STANLEY.”

This, enclosed to General Clarendon, she sent by Cockburn, who delivered it to his master immediately. Though she could perfectly depend upon her maid Rose’s fidelity, Helen did not tell her that she was going away in the morning, to avoid bringing her into any difficulty if she were questioned by Lady Cecilia; and besides, no note of preparation would be heard or seen. She would take with her only sufficient for the day, and would leave Rose to pack up all that belonged to her, after her departure, and to follow her. Thanks to her own late discretion, she had no money difficulties—no debts but such as Rose could settle, and she had now only to write to Cecilia; but she had not yet recovered from the tumult of mind which the writing to the general and to Beauclerc had caused. She lay down upon the sofa, and closing her trembling eyelids, she tried to compose herself sufficiently to think at least of what she was to say. As she passed the table in going to the sofa, she, without perceiving it, threw down some of the flowers; they caught her eye, and she said to herself “Lie there! lie there! Granville’s last gifts! last gifts to me! All over now; lie there and wither! Joys that are passed, wither! All happiness for me, gone! Lie there, and wither, and die!—and so shall I soon, I hope—if that only hope is not wrong.”

Some one knocked at the door; she started up, and said, “I cannot see you, Cecilia!”

A voice not Cecilia’s, a voice she did not recollect, answered, “It is not Cecilia; let me see you. I come from General Clarendon.”

Helen opened the door, and saw—Miss Clarendon. Her voice had sounded so much lower and gentler than usual, that Helen had not guessed it to be hers. She was cloaked, as if prepared to go away; and in the outer room was another lady seated with her back towards them, and with her cloak on also.

“My aunt Pennant—who will wait for me. As she is a stranger, she would not intrude upon you, Miss Stanley; but will you allow me one minute?”

Helen, surprised, begged Miss Clarendon to come in, moved a chair towards her, and stood breathless with anxiety. Miss Clarendon sat down, and resuming her abruptness of tone, said, “I feel that I have no right to expect that you should have confidence in me, and yet I do. I believe in your sincerity, even from the little I know of you, and I have a notion you believe in mine. Do you?”

“我做。”

“I wish it had pleased Heaven,” continued Miss Clarendon, “that my brother had married a woman who could speak truth! But you need not be afraid; I will not touch on your secrets. On any matter you have in keeping, my honour as well as yours will command my silence—as will also my brother’s happiness, which I have somewhat at heart; not that I think it can be preserved by the means you take. But this is not what I came to say. You mean to go away from this house to-morrow morning?”

“Yes,” said Helen.

“You are right. I would not stay where I did not esteem or where I had reason to believe that I was not esteemed. You are quite right to go, and to go directly; but not to your old housekeeper.”

“Why not?” said Helen.

“Because, though I dare say she is vastly respectable,—an excellent person in her way, I am convinced,—yet my brother says she might not be thought just the sort of person to whom you should go now—not just the thing for you at present; though, at another time, it would be very well and condescending; but now, when you are attacked, you must look to appearances—in short, my brother will not allow you to go to this old lady’s boarding-house, or cottage, or whatever it may be, at Seven Oaks; he must be able to say for you where you are gone. You must be with me; you must be at Llansillen. Llansillen is a place that can be named. You must be with me—with General Clarendon’s sister. You must—you will, I am sure, my dear Miss Stanley. I never was so happy in having a house of my own as at this moment. You will not refuse to return with my aunt and me to Llansillen, and make our home yours? We will try and make it a happy home to you. Try; you see the sense of it: the world can say nothing when you are known to be with Miss Clarendon; and you will, I hope, feel the comfort of it, out of the stir and din of this London world. I know you like the country, and Llansillen is a beautiful place—romantic too; a fine castle, an excellent library, beautiful conservatory; famous for our conservatories we are in South Wales; and no neighbours—singular blessing! And my aunt Pennant, you will love her so! Will you try? Come! say that you will.”

But Helen could not; she could only press the hand that Miss Clarendon held out to her. There is nothing more touching, more overcoming, than kindness at the moment the heart is sunk in despair. “But did General Clarendon really wish you to ask me?” said Helen, when she could speak. “Did he think so much and so carefully for me to the last? And with such a bad opinion as he must have of me!”

“But there you know he is wrong.”

“It is like himself,” continued Helen; “consistent in protecting me to the last. Oh, to lose such a friend!”

“Not lost, only mislaid,” said Miss Clarendon. “You will find him again some fair day or other; truth always comes to light. Meanwhile, all is settled. I must run and tell my aunt, and bless the fates and Lady Emily Greville, that Lady Cecilia did not come up in the middle of it. Luckily, she thinks I am gone, and knows nothing of my being with you; for my brother explained all this to me in his study, after we had left the saloon, and he desires me to say that his carriage shall be ready for you at your hour, at eight o’clock. We shall expect you; and now, farewell till to-morrow.”

She was gone, and her motto might well be, though in a different acceptation from that of our greatest modern politician—“Tout faire sans paraître.=

But before Helen could go to rest, she must write to Lady Cecilia, and her thoughts were in such perplexity, and her feelings in such conflict, that she knew not how to begin. At last she wrote only a few hasty lines of farewell, and referred for her determination, and for all explanations, to her letter to the general. It came to “Farewell, dear Cecilia.”

Dear! yes, still dear she was to Helen—she must be as Lady Davenant’s daughter—still dear for her own sake was Cecilia, the companion of her childhood, who had shown her such generous affection early, such fondness always, who was so charming, with so many good qualities, so much to win love—loved she must be still. “Farewell, Cecilia; may you be happy!”

But as Helen wrote these words, she thought it impossible, she could scarcely in the present circumstances wish it possible, that Cecilia should be happy. How could she, unless her conscience had become quite callous?

She gave her note to Rose, with orders to deliver it herself to Lady Cecilia to-night, when she should demand admittance. And soon she came, the very instant Lady Emily Greville went away—before Helen was in bed she heard Cecilia at her door; she left her to parley with Rose—heard her voice in the first instance eager, peremptory for admittance. Then a sudden silence. Helen comprehended that she had opened her note—and in another instant she heard her retreating step. On seeing the first words referring for explanation to Helen’s letter to the general, panic-struck, Lady Cecilia hurried to her own room to read the rest privately.

Helen now tried to recollect whether every thing had been said, written, done, that ought to be done; and at last went to bed and endeavoured to sleep for a few hours.

Helen was just dressed, and had given her last orders to her bewildered maid, when she heard a knock at the door, and Mademoiselle Felicie’s voice. She could not at this instant endure to hear her heartless exclamatory speeches; she would not admit her. Mademoiselle Felicie gave Rose a note for her young lady—it was from Cecilia.

“Dearest Helen,—The general will not allow me to take leave of you this morning, but I shall certainly go to you in the course of to-day. I cannot understand or make you understand any thing till I see you. I 将 see you to-day. Your affectionate CECILIA.”

“I understand it too well!” thought Helen.

The carriage was announced, Helen was ready; she hurried into it, and she was gone! And thus she parted from the friend of her childhood—the friend she had but a few months before met with such joy, such true affection; and her own affection was true to the last.

As Helen drove from the door, she saw the general—yes, it certainly was the general riding off—at this unusual hour!—Was it to avoid her? But she was in too great anguish to dwell upon that or any other circumstance; her only thought now was to subdue her emotion before she was seen by Miss Clarendon and Mrs. Pennant. And by the time she arrived, she thought she had quite recovered herself, and was not aware that any traces of tears remained; but to Mrs. Pennant’s sympathising eyes they were visible, and after the first introductions and salutations were over, that kind lady, as she seated her at the breakfast-table, gently pressing her hand, said, “Poor thing! no wonder—parting with old friends for new is a sad trial: but you know we shall become old friends in time: we will make what haste we can, my dear Miss Stanley, and Esther will help me to make you forget that you have not known us all your life.”

“There is very little to be known; no mysteries, that is one comfort,” said Miss Clarendon; “so now to breakfast. You are very punctual, Miss Stanley; and that is a virtue which aunt Pennant likes, and can estimate to a fraction of a minute with that excellent watch of hers.”

There was some history belonging to that family-watch, which then came out; and then the conversation turned upon little family anecdotes and subjects which were naturally interesting to the aunt and niece, and not exciting to Helen, whose mind, they saw, needed quiet, and freedom from all observation.

From the first awkwardness of her situation, from the sense of intrusion, and the suddenness of change, she was thus as far as possible gradually and almost imperceptibly relieved. By their perfect good-breeding, as well as good-nature, from their making no effort to show her particular attention, she felt received at once into their family as one of themselves; and yet, though there was no effort, she perceived in the most minute circumstances the same sort of consideration which would be shown to an intimate friend. They not only did not expect, but did not wish, that she should make any exertion to appear to be what she could not be; they knew the loneliness of heart she must feel, the weight that must be upon her spirits. They left her, then, quite at liberty to be with them or alone, as she might like, and she was glad to be alone with her own thoughts; they soon fixed upon Beauclerc. She considered how he would feel, what he would think, when he should receive her letter: she pictured his looks while reading it; considered whether he would write immediately, or attempt, notwithstanding her prohibition, to see her. He would know from General Clarendon, that is, if the general thought proper to tell him, where she was, and that she would remain all this day in town. Though her determination was fixed, whether he wrote or came, to abide by her refusal, and for the unanswerable reasons which she had given, or which she had laid down to herself; yet she could not, and who, loving as she did, could help wishing that Beauclerc should desire to see her again; she hoped that he would make every effort to change her resolution, even though it might cost them both pain. Yet in some pain there is pleasure; or, to be without it, is a worse kind of suffering. Helen was conscious of the inconsistency in her mind, and sighed, and endeavoured to be reasonable. And, to do her justice, there was not the slightest wavering as to the main point. She thought that the general might, perhaps, have some relenting towards her. Hope would come into her mind, though she tried to keep it out; she had nothing to expect, she repeatedly said to herself, except that either Cecilia would send, or the general would call this morning, and Rose must come at all events.

The morning passed on, however, and no one came so soon as Helen had expected. She was sitting in a back room where no knocks at the door could be heard; but she would have been called, surely, if General Clarendon had come. He had come, but he had not asked for her; he had at first inquired only for his sister, but she was not at home, gone to the dentist’s. The general then desired to see Mrs. Pennant, and when she supposed that she had not heard rightly, and that Miss Stanley must be the person he wished to see, he had answered, “By no means; I particularly wish not to see Miss Stanley. I beg to see Mrs. Pennant alone.”

It fell to the lot of this gentle-hearted lady to communicate to Helen the dreadful intelligence he brought: a duel had taken place! When Helen had seen the general riding off, he was on his way to Chalk Farm. Just as the carriage was coming round for Miss Stanley, Mr. Beauclerc’s groom had requested in great haste to see the general; he said he was sure something was going wrong about his master; he had heard the words Chalk Farm. The general was off instantly, but before he reached the spot the duel had been fought. A duel between Beauclerc and Mr. Churchill. Beauclerc was safe, but Mr. Churchill was dangerously wounded; the medical people present could not answer for his life. At the time the general saw him he was speechless, but when Beauclerc and his second, Lord Beltravers, had come up to him, he had extended his hand in token of forgiveness to one or the other, but to which he had addressed the only words he had uttered could not be ascertained; the words were, “完全 are not to blame!—escape!—fly!” Both had fled to the Continent. General Clarendon said that he had no time for explanations, he had not been able to get any intelligible account of the cause of the affair. Lord Beltravers had named Miss Stanley, but Beauclerc had stopped him, and had expressed the greatest anxiety that Miss Stanley’s name should not be implicated, should not be mentioned. He took the whole blame upon himself—said he would write—there was no time for more.

Mrs. Pennant listened with the dread of losing a single word: but however brief his expressions, the general’s manner of speaking, notwithstanding the intensity of his emotion, was so distinct that every word was audible, except the name of Lord Beltravers, which was not familiar to her. She asked again the name of Mr. Beauclerc’s second? “Lord Beltravers,” the general repeated with a forcible accent, and loosening his neck-cloth with his finger, he added, “Rascal! as I always told Beauclerc that he was, and so he will find him—too late.”

Except this exacerbation, the general was calmly reserved in speech, and Mrs. Pennant felt that she could not ask him a single question beyond what he had communicated. When he rose to go, which he did the moment he had finished what he had to say, she had, however, courage enough to hope that they should soon hear again, when the general should learn something more of Mr. Churchill.

Certainly he would let her know whatever he could learn of Mr. Churchill’s state.

Her eyes followed him to the door with anxious eagerness to penetrate farther into what his own opinion of the danger might be. His rigidity of composure made her fear that he had no hope, “otherwise certainly he would have said something.”

He opened the door again, and returning, said, “Depend upon it you shall hear how he is, my dear Mrs. Pennant, before you leave town to-morrow.”

“We will not go to-morrow,” she replied. “We will stay another day at least. Poor Miss Stanley will be so anxious——”

“I advise you not to stay in town another day, my dear madam. You can do no good by it. If Mr. Churchill survive this day, he will linger long I am assured. Take Helen—take Miss Stanley out of town, as soon as may be. Better go to-morrow, as you had determined.”

“But it will be so long, my dear general!—one moment—if we go, it will be so long before we can hear any further news of your ward.”

“I will write.”

“To Miss Stanley—Oh, thank you.”

“To my sister,” he looked back to say, and repeated distinctly, “To my sister.”

“Very well—thank you, at all events.”

Mrs. Pennant saw that, in General Clarendon’s present disposition towards Miss Stanley, the less she said of him the better, and she confined herself strictly to what she had been commissioned to say, and all she could do was to prevent the added pain of suspense; it was told to Helen in the simplest shortest manner possible:—but the facts were dreadful. Beauclerc was safe!—safe! but under what circumstances?

“And it was for me, I am sure,” cried Helen, “I am sure it was for me! I was the cause! I am the cause of that man’s death—of Beauclerc’s agony.”

For some time Helen had not power or thought for any other idea. The promise that they should hear as soon as they could learn any thing more of Mr. Churchill’s state was all she could rely upon or recur to.

When her maid Rose arrived from General Clarendon’s, she said, that when Lady Cecilia heard of the duel she had been taken very ill, but had since recovered sufficiently to drive out with the general. Miss Clarendon assured Helen there was no danger. “It is too deep a misfortune for Lady Cecilia. Her feelings have not depth enough for it, you will see. You need not be afraid for her, Helen.”

The circumstances which led to the duel were not clearly known till long afterwards, but may be now related. The moment Beauclerc had parted from Helen when he turned away at the carriage door after the party at Lady Castlefort’s he went in search of one, who, as he hoped, could explain the strange whispers he had heard. The person of whom he went in search was his friend, his friend as he deemed him, Lord Beltravers. Churchill had suggested that if any body knew the bottom of the matter, except that origin of all evil Lady Katrine herself,—it must be Lord Beltravers, with whom Lady Castlefort was, it was said, fortement éprise, and as Horace observed, “the secrets of scandal are common property between lovers, much modern love being cemented by hate.”

Without taking in the full force of this observation in its particular application to the hatred which Lord Beltravers might feel to Miss Stanley, as the successful rival of his sister Blanche, Beauclerc hastened to act upon his suggestion. His lordship was not at home: his people thought he had been at Lady Castlefort’s; did not know where he might be if not there. At some gambling-house Beauclerc at last found him, and Lord Beltravers was sufficiently vexed in the first place at being there found, for he had pretended to his friend Granville that he no longer played. His embarrassment was increased by the questions which Beauclerc so suddenly put to him; but he had 漫不经心 impudence enough to brave it through, and he depended with good reason on Beauclerc’s prepossession in his favour. He protested he knew nothing about it; and he returned Churchill’s charge, by throwing the whole blame upon him; said he knew he was in league with Lady Katrine;—mentioned that one morning, sometime ago, he had dropped in unexpectedly early at Lady Castlefort’s, and had been surprised to find the two sisters, contrary to their wont, together—their heads and Horace Churchill’s over some manuscript, which was shuffled away as he entered. This was true, all but the shuffling away; and here it is necessary to form a clear notion, clearer than Lord Beltravers will give, of the different shares of wrong; of wrong knowingly and unknowingly perpetrated by the several scandal-mongers concerned in this affair.

Lord Beltravers could be in no doubt as to his own share, for he it was who had furnished the editor of Colonel D’Aubigny’s Memoirs with the famous letters. When Carlos, Lady Davenant’s runaway page, escaped from Clarendon Park, having changed his name, he got into the service of Sir Thomas D’Aubigny, who was just at this time arranging his brother’s papers. Now it had happened that Carlos had been concealed behind the screen in Lady Davenant’s room, the day of her first conversation with Helen about Colonel D’Aubigny, and he had understood enough of it to perceive that there was some mystery about the colonel with either Helen or Lady Cecilia; and chancing one day, soon after he entered Sir Thomas’s service, to find his escritoire open, he amused himself with looking over his papers, among which he discovered the packet of Lady Cecilia’s letters. Carlos was not perfectly sure of the handwriting; he thought it was Lady Cecilia’s; but when he found the miniature of Miss Stanley along with them, he concluded that the letters must be hers. And having special reasons for feeling vengeance against Helen, and certain at all events of doing mischief, he sent them to General Clarendon: not, however, forgetting his old trade, he copied them first. This was just at the time when Lord Beltravers returned from abroad after his sister’s divorce. He by some accident found out who Carlos was, and whence he came, and full of his own views for his sister, he cross-examined him as to every thing he knew about Miss Stanley; and partly by bribes, partly by threats of betraying him to Lady Davenant, he contrived to get from him the copied letters. Carlos soon after returned with his master to Portugal, and was never more heard of. Lord Beltravers took these purloined copies of the letters, thus surreptitiously obtained, to the editor, into whose hands Sir Thomas D’Aubigny (who knew nothing of books or book-making) had put his brother’s memoirs. This editor, as has been mentioned, had previously consulted Mr. Churchill, and in consequence of his pepper and salt hint, Lord Beltravers himself made those interpolations which he hoped would ruin his sister’s rival in the eyes of her lover.

Mr. Churchill, however, except this hint, and except his vanity in furnishing a good title, and his coxcombry of literary patronage, and his general hope that Helen’s name being implicated in such a publication would avenge her rejection of himself, had had nothing to do with the business. This Lord Beltravers well knew, and yet when he found that the slander made no impression upon Beauclerc, and that he was only intent upon discovering the slanderer, he, with dexterous treachery, contrived to turn the tables upon Churchill, and to direct all Beauclerc’s suspicion towards him! He took his friend home with him, and showed him all the newspaper paragraphs—paragraphs which he himself had written! Yes, this man of romantic friendship, this blazé, this hero oppressed with his own sensibility, could condescend to write anonymous scandal, to league with newsmongers, and to bribe waiting-women to supply him with information, for Mademoiselle Felicie had, through Lady Katrine’s maid, told all, and more than all she knew, of what passed at General Clarendon’s; and on this foundation did he construct those paragraphs, which he hoped would blast the character of the woman to whom his dearest friend was engaged. And now he contrived to say all that could convince Beauclerc that Mr. Churchill was the author of these very paragraphs. And hot and rash, Beauclerc rushed on to that conclusion. He wrote, a challenge to Churchill, and as soon as it was possible in the morning he sent it by Lord Beltravers. Mr. Churchill named Sir John Luttrell as his friend: Lord Beltravers would enter into no terms of accommodation; the challenge was accepted, Chalk Farm appointed as the place of meeting, and the time fixed for eight o’clock next morning. And thus, partly by his own warmth of temper, and partly by the falsehood of others, was Beauclerc urged on to the action he detested, to be the thing he hated. Duelling and duellists had, from the time he could think, been his abhorrence, and now he was to end his life, or to take the life of a fellow-creature perhaps, in a duel.

There was a dread interval. And it was during the remainder of this day and night that Beauclerc felt most strongly compared with all other earthly ties, his attachment, his passionate love for Helen. At every pause, at every close of other thoughts forced upon him, his mind recurred to Helen—what Helen would feel—what Helen would think—what she would suffer—and in the most and in the least important things his care was for her. He recalled the last look that he had seen at the carriage-door when they parted, recollected that it expressed anxiety, was conscious that he had turned away abruptly—that in the preoccupied state of his mind he had not spoken one word of kindness—and that this might be the last impression of him left on her mind. He knew that her anxiety would increase, when all that day must pass without his return, and it was then he thought of sending her those flowers which would, he knew, reassure her better than any words he could venture to write.

Meanwhile his false friend coldly calculated what were the chances in his sister’s favour; and when Churchill fell, and even in the hurry of their immediate departure, Lord Beltravers wrote to Madame de St. Cymon, over whom the present state of her affairs gave him command, to order her to set out immediately, and to take Blanche with her to Paris, without asking the consent of that fool and prude, her aunt Lady Grace.

It was well for poor Helen, even in the dreadful uncertainty in which she left London, that she did not know 所有 these circumstances. It may be doubted, indeed, whether we should be altogether happier in this life if that worst of evils, as it is often called, suspense, were absolutely annihilated, and if human creatures could clearly see their fate, or even know what is most likely to happen.

According to the general’s advice, Mrs. Pennant did not delay her journey, and Helen left London the next day with her and Miss Clarendon. The last bulletin of Mr. Churchill had been that he was still in great danger, and a few scarce legible lines Helen had received from Cecilia, saying that the general would not allow her to agitate herself by going to take leave of her, that she was glad that Helen was to be out of town till all blew over, and that she was so much distracted by this horrible event, she scarcely knew what she wrote.

As they drove out of town, Miss Clarendon, in hopes of turning Helen’s thoughts, went on talking. “Unless,” said she, “we could like Madame de Genlis, ‘promote the post-boys into agents of mystery and romance,’ we have but little chance, I am afraid, of any adventures on our journey to Llansillen, my dear Miss Stanley.”

She inveighed against the stupid safety, convenience, luxury, and expedition of travelling now-a-days all over England, even in Wales, “so that one might sleep the whole way from Hyde Park corner to Llansillen gate,” said she, “and have no unconscionably long nap either. No difficulties on the road, nothing to complain of at inns, no enjoying one’s dear delight in being angry, no opportunity even of showing one’s charming resignation. Dreadfully bad this for the nervous and bilious, for all the real use and benefit of travelling is done away; all too easy for my taste; one might as well be a doll, or a dolt, or a parcel in the coach.”

Helen would have been glad to have been considered merely as a parcel in the coach. During the whole journey, she took no notice of any thing till they came within a few miles of Llansillen; then, endeavouring to sympathise with her companions, she looked out of the carriage window at the prospect which they admired. But, however charming, Llansillen had not for Helen the chief charm of early, fond, old associations with a happy home. To her it was to be, she doubted not, as happy as kindness could make it, but still it was new; and in that thought, that feeling, there was something inexpressibly melancholy; and the contrast, at this moment, between her sensations and those of her companions, made the pain the more poignant; they perceived this, and were silent. Helen was grateful for this consideration for her, but she could not bear to be a constraint upon them, therefore she now exerted herself, sat forward—admired and talked when she was scarcely able to speak. By the time they came to Llansillen gate, however, she could say no more; she was obliged to acknowledge that she was not well; and when the carriage at last stopped at the door, there was such a throbbing in her temples, and she was altogether so ill, that it was with the greatest difficulty she could, leaning on Miss Clarendon’s arm, mount the high steps to the hall-door. She could scarcely stand when she reached the top, but, making an effort, she went on, crossed the slippery floor of that great hall, and came to the foot of the black oak staircase, of which the steps were so very low that she thought she could easily go up, but found it impossible, and she was carried directly up to Miss Clarendon’s own room, no other having been yet prepared. The rosy Welsh maids looked with pity on the pale stranger. They hurried to and fro, talking Welsh to one another very fast; and Helen felt as if she were in a foreign land, and in a dream. The end of the matter was, that she had a low fever which lasted long. It was more dispiriting than dangerous—more tedious than alarming. Her illness continued for many weeks, during which time she was attended most carefully by her two new friends—by Miss Clarendon with the utmost zeal and activity—by Mrs. Pennant with the greatest solicitude and tenderness.

Her history for these weeks—indeed for some months afterwards—can be only the diary of an invalid and of a convalescent. Miss Clarendon meanwhile received from her brother, punctually, once a week, bulletins of Churchill’s health; the surgical details, the fears of the formation of internal abscess, reports of continual exfoliations of bone, were judiciously suppressed, and the laconic general reported only “Much the same—not progressing—cannot be pronounced out of danger.” These bulletins were duly repeated to Helen, whenever she was able to hear them; and at last she was considered well enough to read various letters, which had arrived for her during her illness; several were from Lady Cecilia, but little in them. The first was full only of expressions of regret, and self-reproach; in the last, she said, she hoped soon to have a right to claim Helen back again. This underlined passage Helen knew alluded to the promise she had once made, that at the birth of her child all should be told; but words of promise from Cecilia had lost all value—all power to excite even hope, as she said to herself as she read the words, and sighed.

One of her letters mentioned what she would have seen in the first newspaper she had opened, that Lady Blanche Forrester was gone with her sister, the Comtesse de St. Cymon, to Paris, to join her brother Lord Beltravers. But Lady Cecilia observed, that Helen need not be alarmed by this paragraph, which she was sure was inserted on purpose to plague her. Lady Cecilia seemed to take it for granted that her rejection of Beauclerc was only a ruse d’amour, and went on with her usual hopes, now vague and more vague every letter—that things would end well sometime, somehow or other.

Helen only sighed on reading these letters, and quick as she glanced her eye over them, threw them from her on the bed; and Miss Clarendon said, “Ay! you know her now, I see!”

Helen made no reply: she was careful not to make any comment which could betray how much, or what sort of reason she had to complain of Lady Cecilia; but Miss Clarendon, confident that she had guessed pretty nearly the truth, was satisfied with her own penetration, and then, after seeming to doubt for a few moments, she put another letter into Helen’s hand, and with one of those looks of tender interest which sometimes softened her countenance, she left the room.

The letter was from Beauclerc; it appeared to have been written immediately after he had received Helen’s letter, and was as follows:—

“Not write to you, my dearest Helen! Renounce my claim to your hand! submit to be rejected by you, my affianced bride! No, never—never! Doubt! suspicion!—suspicion of you!—you, angel as you are—you, who have devoted, sacrificed yourself to others. No, Helen, my admiration, my love, my trust in you, are greater than they ever were. And do I dare to say these words to you? I, who am perhaps a murderer! I ought to imitate your generosity, I ought not to offer you a hand stained with blood:—I ought at least to leave you free till I know when I may return from banishment. I have written this at the first instant I have been able to command during my hurried journey, and as you know something of what led to this unhappy business, you shall in my next letter hear the whole; till then, adieu! GRANVILLE BEAUCLERC.”

The next day, when she thought Helen sufficiently recovered from the agitation of reading Beauclerc’s letter, aunt Pennant produced one letter more, which she had kept for the last, because she hoped it would give pleasure to her patient. Helen sat up in her bed eagerly, and stretched out her hand. The letter was directed by General Clarendon, but that was only the outer cover, they knew, for he had mentioned in his last dispatch to his sister, that the letter enclosed for Miss Stanley was from Lady Davenant. Helen tore off the cover, but the instant she saw the inner direction, she sank hack, turned, and hid her face on the pillow.

It was directed—“To Mrs. Granville Beauclerc.”

Lady Davenant had unfortunately taken it for granted, that nothing could have prevented the marriage.

Aunt Pennant blamed herself for not having foreseen, and prevented this accident, which she saw distressed poor Helen so much. But Miss Clarendon wondered that she was so shocked, and supposed she would get over it in a few minutes, or else she must be very weak. There was nothing that tended to raise her spirits much in the letter itself, to make amends for the shock the direction had given. It contained but a few lines in Lady Davenant’s own handwriting, and a postscript from Lord Davenant. She wrote only to announce their safe arrival at Petersburgh, as she was obliged to send off her letter before she had received any dispatches from England; and she concluded with, “I am sure the first will bring me the joyful news of Beauclerc’s happiness and yours, my dear child.”

Lord Davenant’s postscript added, that in truth Lady Davenant much needed such a cordial, for that her health had suffered even more than he had feared it would. He repented that he had allowed her to accompany him to such a rigorous climate.

All that could be said to allay the apprehensions this postscript might excite, was of course said in the best way by aunt Pennant. But it was plain that Helen did not recover during the whole of this day from the shock she had felt “from that foolish direction,” as Miss Clarendon said. She could not be prevailed upon to rise this day, though Miss Clarendon, after feeling her pulse, had declared that she was very well able to get up. “It was very bad for her to remain in bed.” This was true, no doubt. And Miss Clarendon remarked to her aunt that she was surprised to find Miss Stanley so weak. Her aunt replied that it was not surprising that she should be rather weak at present, after such a long illness.

“Weakness of body and mind need not go together,” said Miss Clarendon.

“Need not, perhaps,” said her aunt, “but they are apt to do so.”

“It is to be hoped the weakness of mind will go with the weakness of body, and soon,” said Miss Clarendon.

“We must do what we can to strengthen and fatten her, poor thing!” said Mrs. Pennant.

“Fatten the body, rather easier than to strengthen the mind. Strength of mind cannot be thrown in, as you would throw in the bark, or the chicken broth.”

“Only have patience with her,” said Mrs. Pennant, “and you will find that she will have strength of mind enough when she gets quite well. Only have patience.”

During Helen’s illness Miss Clarendon had been patient, but now that she was pronounced convalescent, she became eager to see her quite well. In time of need Miss Clarendon had been not only the most active and zealous, but a most gentle and—doubt it who may—soft-stepping, soft-voiced nurse; but now, when Doctor Tudor had assured them that all fever was gone, and agreed with her that the patient would soon be well, if she would only think so, Miss Clarendon deemed it high time to use something more than her milder influence, to become, if not a rugged, at least a stern nurse, and she brought out some of her rigid lore.

“I intend that you should get up in seasonable time to-day, Helen,” said she, as she entered her room.

“Do you?” said Helen in a languid voice.

“I do,” said Miss Clarendon; “and I hope you do not intend to do as you did yesterday, to lie in bed all day.”

Helen turned, sighed, and Mrs. Pennant said, “Yesterday is over, my dear Esther—no use in talking of yesterday.”

“Only to secure our doing better to-day, ma’am,” replied Miss Clarendon with prompt ability.

Helen was all submission, and she got up, and that was well. Miss Clarendon went in quest of arrow-root judiciously; and aunt Pennant stayed and nourished her patient meanwhile with “the fostering dew of praise;” and let her dress as slowly and move as languidly as she liked, though Miss Clarendon had admonished her “not to 混日子设立的区域办事处外，我们在美国也开设了办事处，以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

As soon as she was dressed, Helen went to the window and threw up the sash for the first time to enjoy the fresh air, and to see the prospect which she was told was beautiful; and she saw that it was beautiful, and, though it was still winter, she felt that the air was balmy; and the sun shone bright, and the grass began to be green, for spring approached. But how different to her from the spring-time of former years! Nature the same, but all within herself how changed! And all which used to please, and to seem to her most cheerful, now came over her spirits with a sense of sadness;—she felt as if all the life of life was gone. Tears filled her eyes, large tears rolled slowly down as she stood fixed, seeming to gaze from that window at she knew not what. Aunt Pennant unperceived stood beside her, and let the tears flow unnoticed. “They will do her good; they are a great relief sometimes.” Miss Clarendon returned, and the tears were dried, but the glaze remained, and Miss Clarendon saw it, and gave a reproachful look at her aunt, as much as to say, “Why did you let her cry?” And her aunt’s look in reply was, “I could not help it, my dear.”

“Eat your arrow-root,” was all that transpired to Helen. And she tried to eat, but could not; and Miss Clarendon was not well pleased, for the arrow-root was good, and she had made it; she felt Miss Stanley’s pulse, and said that “It was as good a pulse as could be, only low and a little fluttered.”

“Do not flutter it any more, then, Esther my dear,” said Mrs. Pennant.

“What am I doing or saying, ma’am, that should flutter anybody that has common sense?”

“Some people don’t like to have their pulse felt,” said aunt Pennant.

“Those people have not common sense,” replied the niece.

“I believe I have not common sense,” said Helen.

“Sense you have enough—resolution is what you want, Helen, I tell you.”

“I know,” said Helen, “too true——”

“True, but not too true—nothing can be too true.”

“True,” said Helen, with languid submission. Helen was not in a condition to chop logic, or ever much inclined to it; now less than ever, and least of all with Miss Clarendon, so able as she was. There is something very provoking sometimes in perfect submission, because it is unanswerable. But the langour, not the submission, afforded some cause for further remark and remonstrance.

“Helen, you are dreadfully languid to-day.”

“Sadly,” said Helen.

“If you could have eaten more arrow-root before it grew cold, you would have been better.”

“But if she could not, my dear Esther,” said aunt Pennant.

“莫非 not, ma’am! As if people could not eat if they pleased.”

“But if people have no appetite, my dear, I am afraid eating will not do much good.”

“I am afraid, my dear aunt, you will not do Miss Stanley much good,” said Miss Clarendon, shaking her head; “you will only spoil her.”

“I am quite spoiled, I believe,” said Helen; “you must unspoil me, Esther.”

“Not so very easy,” said Esther; “but I shall try, for I am a sincere friend.”

“I am sure of it,” said Helen.

Then what more could be said? Nothing at that time—Helen’s look was so sincerely grateful, and “gentle as a lamb,” as aunt Pennant observed; and Esther was not a wolf quite—at heart not at all.

Miss Clarendon presently remarked that Miss Stanley really did not seem glad to be better—glad to get well. Helen acknowledged that instead of being glad, she was rather sorry.

“If it had pleased Heaven, I should have been glad to die.”

“Nonsense about dying, and worse than nonsense,” cried Miss Clarendon, “when you see that it did not please Heaven that you should die—”

“I am content to live,” said Helen.

“Content! to be sure you are,” said Miss Clarendon. “Is this your thankfulness to Providence?”

“I am resigned—I am thankful—I will try to be more so—but cannot be glad.”

General Clarendon’s bulletins continued with little variation for some time; they were always to his sister—he never mentioned Beauclerc, but confined himself to the few lines or words necessary to give his promised regular accounts of Mr. Churchill’s state, the sum of which continued to be for a length of time: “Much the same.”—“Not in immediate danger.”—“Cannot be pronounced out of danger.”

Not very consolatory, Helen felt. “But while there is life, there is hope,” as aunt Pennant observed.

“Yes, and fear,” said Helen; and her hopes and fears on this subject alternated with fatiguing reiteration, and with a total incapacity of forming any judgment.

Beauclerc’s letter of explanation arrived, and other letters came from him from time to time, which, as they were only repetitions of hopes and fears as to Churchill’s recovery, and of uncertainty as to what might be his own future fate, only increased Helen’s misery; and as even their expressions of devoted attachment could not alter her own determination, while she felt how cruel her continued silence must appear, they only agitated without relieving her mind. Mrs. Pennant sympathised with and soothed her, and knew how to sooth, and how to raise, and to sustain a mind in sorrow, suffering under disappointed affection, and sunk almost to despondency; for aunt Pennant, besides her softness of manner, and her quick intelligent sympathy, had power of consolation of a higher sort, beyond any which this world can give. She was very religious, of a cheerfully religious turn of mind—of that truly Christian spirit which hopeth all things. When she was a child somebody asked her if she was bred up in the fear of the Lord. She said no, but in the love of God. And so she was, in that love which casteth out fear. And now the mildness of her piety, and the whole tone and manner of her speaking and thinking, reminded Helen of that good dear uncle by whom she had been educated. She listened with affectionate reverence, and she truly and simply said, “You do me good—I think you have done me a great deal of good—and you shall see it.” And she did see it afterwards, and Miss Clarendon thought it was her doing, and so her aunt let it pass, and was only glad the good was done.

The first day Helen went down to the drawing-room, she found there a man who looked, as she thought at first glance, like a tradesman—some person, she supposed, come on business, standing waiting for Miss Clarendon, or Mrs. Pennant. She scarcely looked at him, but passed on to the sofa, beside which was a little table set for her, and on it a beautiful work-box, which she began to examine and admire.

“Not nigh so handsome as I could have wished it, then, for you, Miss Helen—I ask pardon, Miss Stanley.”

Helen looked up, surprised at hearing herself addressed by one whom she had thought a stranger; but yet she knew the voice, and a reminiscence came across her mind of having seen him somewhere before.

“Old David Price, ma’am. Maybe you forget him, you being a child at that time. But since you grew up, you have been the saving of me and many more——” Stepping quite close to her, he whispered that he had been paid under her goodness’s order by Mr. James, along with the other creditors 那是 左.

Helen by this time recollected who the poor Welshman was—an upholsterer and cabinet-maker, who had been years before employed at the Deanery. Never having been paid at the time, a very considerable debt had accumulated, and having neither note nor bond, Price said that he had despaired of ever obtaining the amount of his earnings. He had, however, since the dean’s death, been paid in full, and had been able to retire to his native village, which happened to be near Llansillen, and most grateful he was; and as soon as he perceived that he was recognised, his gratitude became better able to express itself. Not well, however, could it make its way out for some time; between crying and laughing, and between two languages, he was at first scarcely intelligible. Whenever much moved, David Price had recourse to his native Welsh, in which he was eloquent; and Mrs. Pennant, on whom, knowing that she understood him, his eyes turned, was good enough to interpret for him. And when once fairly set a-going, there was danger that poor David’s garrulous gratitude should flow for ever. But it was all honest; not a word of flattery; and his old face was in a glow and radiant with feeling, and the joy of telling Miss Helen all, how, and about it; particularly concerning the last day when Mr. James paid him, and them, and all of them: that was a day Miss Stanley ought to have seen; pity she could not have witnessed it; it would have done her good to the latest hour of her life. Pity she should never see the faces of many, some poorer they might have been than himself; many richer, that would have been ruined for ever but for her. For his own part, he reckoned himself one of the happiest of them all, in being allowed to see her face to face. And he hoped, as soon as she was able to get out so far—but it was not so far—she would come to see how comfortable he was in his own house. It ended at last in his giving a shove to the work-box on the table, which, though nothing worth otherwise, he knew she could not mislike, on account it was made out of all the samples of wood the dean, her uncle, had given to him in former times.

Notwithstanding the immoderate length of his speeches, and the impossibility he seemed to find of ending his visit, Helen was not much tired. And when she was able to walk so far, Mrs. Pennant took her to see David Price, and in a most comfortable house she found him; and every one in that house, down to the youngest child, gathered round her by degrees, some more, some less shy, but all with gratitude beaming and smiling in their faces. It was delightful to Helen; for there is no human heart so engrossed by sorrow, so over whelmed by disappointment, so closed against hope of happiness, that will not open to the touch of gratitude.

But there was still in Helen’s inmost soul one deceitful hope. She thought she had pulled it up by the roots many times, and the last time completely; but still a little fibre lurked, and still it grew again. It was the hope that Cecilia would keep that last promise, though at the moment Helen had flung from her the possibility; yet now she took it up again, and she thought it was possible that Cecilia might be true to her word. If her child should be born alive, and if it should be a boy! It became a heart-beating suspense as the time approached, and every day the news might be expected. The post came in but three times a week at Llansillen, and every post day Miss Clarendon repeated her prophecy to her aunt, “You will see, ma’am, the child will be born in good time, and alive. You who have always been so much afraid for Lady Cecilia, will find she has not feeling enough to do her any harm.”

In due time came a note from the general. “A boy! child and mother doing well. Give me joy.”

The joy to Miss Clarendon was much increased by the triumph, in her own perfectly right opinion. Mrs. Pennant’s was pure affectionate joy for the father, and for Lady Cecilia, for whom, all sinner as she was in her niece’s eyes, this good soul had compassion. Helen’s anxiety to hear again and again every post was very natural, the aunt thought; quite superfluous, the niece deemed it: Lady Cecilia would do very well, no doubt, she prophesied again, and laughed at the tremor, the eagerness, with which Helen every day asked if there was any letter from Cecilia. At last one came, the first in her own hand-writing, and it was to Helen herself, and it extinguished all hope. Helen could only articulate, “Oh! Cecilia!” Her emotion, her disappointment, were visible, but unaccountable: she could give no reason for it to Miss Clarendon, whose wondering eye was upon her; nor even to sympathising aunt Pennant could she breathe a word without betraying Cecilia; she was silent, and there was all that day, and many succeeding days, a hopelessness of languor in her whole appearance. There was, as Miss Clarendon termed it, a “backsliding in her recovery,” which grieved aunt Pennant, and Helen had to bear imputation of caprice, and of indolence from Miss Clarendon; but even that eye immediately upon her, that eye more severe than ever, had not power to rouse her. Her soul was sunk within, nothing farther to hope; there, was a dead calm, and the stillness and loneliness of Llansillen made that calm almost awful. The life of great excitation which she had led previous to her illness, rendered her more sensible of the change, of the total want of stimulus. The walks to Price’s cottage had been repeated, but, though it was a very bright spot, the eye could not always be fixed upon it.

Bodily exertion being more easy to her now than mental, she took long walks, and came in boasting how far she had been, and looking quite exhausted. And Miss Clarendon wondered at her wandering out alone; then she tried to walk with Miss Clarendon, and she was more tired, though the walks were shorter—and that was observed, and was not agreeable either to the observer, or to the observed. Helen endeavoured to make up for it; she followed Miss Clarendon about in all her various occupations, from flower-garden to conservatory, and from conservatory to pheasantry, and to all her pretty cottages, and her schools, and she saw and admired all the good that Esther did so judiciously, and with such extraordinary, such wonderful energy.

“Nothing wonderful in it,” Miss Clarendon said: and as she ungraciously rejected praise, however sincere, and required not sympathy, Helen was reduced to be a mere silent, stupid, useless stander-by, and she could not but feel this a little awkward. She tried to interest herself for the poor people in the neighbourhood, but their language was unintelligible to her, and her’s to them, and it is hard work trying to make objects for oneself in quite a new place, and with a pre-occupying sorrow in the mind all the time. It was not only hard work to Helen, but it seemed labour in vain—bringing soil by handfulls to a barren rock, where, after all, no plant will take root. Miss Clarendon thought that labour could never be in vain.

One morning, when it must be acknowledged that Helen had been sitting too long in the same position, with her head leaning on her hand, Miss Clarendon in her abrupt voice asked, “How much longer, Helen, do you intend to sit there, doing only what is the worst thing in the world for you—thinking?”

Helen started, and said she feared she had been sitting too long idle.

“If you wish to know how long, I can tell you,” said Miss Clarendon; “just one hour and thirteen minutes.”

“By the stop watch,” said Helen, smiling.

“By my watch,” said grave Miss Clarendon; “and in the mean time look at the quantity of work I have done.”

“And done so nicely!” said Helen, looking at it with admiration.

“Oh, do not think to bribe me with admiration; I would rather see you do something yourself than hear you praise my doings.”

“If I had anybody to work for. I have so few friends now in the world who would care for anything I could do! But I will try—you shall see, my dear Esther, by and bye.”

“By and bye! no, no—now. I cannot bear to see you any longer, in this half-alive, half-dead state.”

“I know,” said Helen, “that all you say is for my good. I am sure your only object is my happiness.”

“Your happiness is not in my power or in your’s, but it is in your power to deserve to be happy, by doing what is right—by exerting yourself:—that is my object, for I see you are in danger of being lost in indolence. Now you have the truth and the whole truth.”

Many a truth would have come mended from Miss Clarendon’s tongue, if it had been uttered in a softer tone, and if she had paid a little more attention to times and seasons: but she held it the sacred duty of sincerity to tell a friend her faults as soon as seen, and without circumlocution.

The next day Helen set about a drawing. She made it an object to herself, to try to copy a view of the dear Deanery in the same style as several beautiful drawings of Miss Clarendon’s. While she looked over her portfolio, several of her old sketches recalled remembrances which made her sigh frequently; Miss Clarendon heard her, and said—“I wish you would cure yourself of that habit of sighing; it is very bad for you.”

“I know it,” said Helen.

“Despondency is not penitence,” continued Esther: “reverie is not reparation.”

She felt as desirous as ever to make Helen happy at Llansillen, but she was provoked to find it impossible to do so. Of a strong body herself, capable of great resistance, powerful reaction under disappointment or grief, she could ill make allowance for feebler health and spirits—perhaps feebler character. For great misfortunes she had great sympathy, but she could not enter into the details of lesser sorrows, especially any of the sentimental kind, which she was apt to class altogether under the head—“Sorrows of my Lord Plumcake!” an expression which had sovereignly taken her fancy, and which her aunt did not relish, or quite understand.

Mrs. Pennant was, indeed, as complete a contrast to her niece in these points, as nature and habit joined could produce. She was naturally of the most exquisitely sympathetic mimosa-sensibility, shrinking and expanding to the touch of others’ joy or woe; and instead of having by long use worn this out, she had preserved it wonderfully fresh in advanced years. But, notwithstanding the contrast and seemingly incompatible difference between this aunt and niece, the foundations of their characters both being good, sound, and true, they lived on together well, and loved each other dearly. They had seldom differed so much on any point as in the present case, as to their treatment of their patient and their guest. Scarcely a day passed in which they did not come to some mutual remonstrance; and sometimes when she was by, which was not pleasant to her, as may be imagined. Yet perhaps even these little altercations and annoyances, though they tried Helen’s temper or grieved her heart at the moment, were of use to her upon the whole, by drawing her out of herself. Besides, these daily vicissitudes—made by human temper, manner, and character—supplied in some sort the total want of events, and broke the monotony of these tedious months.

The general’s bulletins, however, became at last more favourable: Mr. Churchill was decidedly better; his physician hoped he might soon be pronounced out of danger. The general said nothing of Beauclerc, but that he was, he believed, still at Paris. And from this time forward no more letters came from Beauclerc to Helen; as his hopes of Churchill’s recovery increased, he expected every day to be released from his banishment, and was resolved to write no more till he could say that he was free. But Helen, though she did not allow it to herself, felt this deeply: she thought that her determined silence had at last convinced him that all pursuit of her was vain; and that he submitted to her rejection: she told herself it was what should be, and yet she felt it bitterly. Lady Cecilia’s letters did not mention him, indeed they scarcely told anything; they had become short and constrained: the general, she said, advised her to go out more, and her letters often concluded in haste, with “Carriage at the door,” and all the usual excuses of a London life.

One day when Helen was sitting intently drawing, Miss Clarendon said “Helen!” so suddenly that she started and looked round; Miss Clarendon was seated on a low stool at her aunt’s feet, with one arm thrown over her great dog’s neck; he had laid his head on her lap, and resting on him, she looked up with a steadiness, a fixity of repose, which brought to Helen’s mind Raphael’s beautiful figure of Fortitude leaning on her lion; she thought she had never before seen Miss Clarendon look so handsome, so graceful, so interesting; she took care not to say so, however.

“Helen!” continued Miss Clarendon, “do you remember the time when I was at Clarendon Park and quitted it so abruptly? My reasons were good, whatever my manner was; the opinion of the world I am not apt to fear for myself, or even for my brother, but to the whispers of conscience I do listen. Helen! I was conscious that certain feelings in my mind were too strong,—in me, you would scarcely believe it—too tender. I had no reason to think that Granville Beauclerc liked me; it was therefore utterly unfit that I should think of him: I felt this, I left Clarendon Park, and from that moment I have refused myself the pleasure of his society, I have altogether ceased to think of him. This is the only way to conquer a hopeless attachment. But you, Helen, though you have commanded him never to attempt to see you again, have not been able to command your own mind. Since Mr. Churchill is so much better, you expect that he will soon be pronounced out of danger—you expect that Mr. Beauclerc will come over—come here, and be at your feet!”

“I expect nothing,” said Helen in a faltering voice, and then added resolutely, “I cannot foresee what Mr. Beauclerc may do, but of this be assured, Miss Clarendon, that until I stand as I once stood, and as I deserve to stand, in the opinion of your brother; unless, above all, I can bring 样张 to Granville’s confiding heart, that I have ever been unimpeachable of conduct and of mind, and in all but one circumstance true—true as yourself, Esther—never, never, though your brother and all the world consented, never till I myself felt that I was 证明 to be as worthy to be his wife as I think I am, would I consent to marry him—no, not though my heart were to break.”

“I believe it,” said Mrs. Pennant; “and I wish—oh, how I wish—”

“That Lady Cecilia were hanged, as she deserves,” said Miss Clarendon: “so do I, I am sure; but that is nothing to the present purpose.”

“No, indeed,” said Helen.

“Helen!” continued Esther, “remember that Lady Blanche Forrester is at Paris.”

Helen shrank.

“Lady Cecilia tells you there is no danger; I say there is.”

“Why should you say so, my dear Esther?” said her aunt.

“Has not this friend of yours always deceived, misled you, Helen?”

“She can have no motive for deceiving me in this,” said Helen: “I believe her.”

“Believe her then!” cried Miss Clarendon; “believe her, and do not believe me, and take the consequences: I have done.”

Helen sighed, but though she might feel the want of the charm of Lady Cecilia’s suavity of manner, of her agreeable, and her agreeing temper, yet she felt the safe solidity of principle in her present friend, and admired, esteemed, and loved, without fear of change, her unblenching truth. Pretty ornaments of gold cannot be worked out of the native ore; to fashion the rude mass some alloy must be used, and when the slight filigree of captivating manner comes to be tested against the sterling worth of unalloyed sincerity, weighed in the just balance of adversity, we are glad to seize the solid gold, and leave the ornaments to those that they deceive.

The fear about Lady Blanche Forrester was, however, soon set at rest, and this time Lady Cecilia was right. A letter from her to Helen announced that Lady Blanche was married!—actually married, and not to Granville Beauclerc, but to some other English gentleman at Paris, no matter whom. Lord Beltravers and Madame de St. Cymon, disappointed, had returned to London; Lady Cecilia had seen Lord Beltravers, and heard the news from him. There could be no doubt of the truth of the intelligence, and scarcely did Helen herself rejoice in it with more sincerity than did Miss Clarendon, and Helen loved her for her candour as well as for her sympathy.

Time passed on; week after week rolled away. At last General Clarendon announced to his sister, but without one word to Helen, that Mr. Churchill was pronounced out of danger. The news had been sent to his ward, the general said, and he expected Granville would return from his banishment immediately.

Quite taken up in the first tumult of her feelings at this intelligence, Helen scarcely observed that she had no letter from Cecilia. But even aunt Pennant was obliged to confess, in reply to her niece’s observation, that this was “certainly very odd! but we shall soon hear some explanation, I hope.”

Miss Clarendon shook her head; she said that she had always thought how matters would end; she judged from her brother’s letters that he began to find out that he was not the happiest of men. Yet nothing to that effect was ever said by him; one phrase only excepted, in his letter to her on her last birth-day, which began with, “In our happy days, my dear Esther.”

Miss Clarendon said nothing to Helen upon this subject; she refrained altogether from mentioning Lady Cecilia.

Two, three post-days passed without bringing any letter to Helen. The fourth, very early in the morning, long before the usual time for the arrival of the post, Rose came into her room with a letter in her hand, saying, “From General Clarendon, ma’am. His own man, Mr. Cockburn, has just this minute arrived, ma’am—from London.” With a trembling hand, Helen tore the letter open: not one word from General Clarendon! It was only a cover, containing two notes; one from Lord Davenant to the general, the other from Lady Davenant to Helen.

Lord Davenant said that Lady Davenant’s health had declined so alarmingly after their arrival at Petersburgh, that he had insisted upon her return to England, and that as soon as the object of his mission was completed, he should immediately follow her. A vessel, he said, containing letters from England, had been lost, so that they were in total ignorance of what had occurred at home; and, indeed, it appeared from the direction of Lady Davenant’s note to Helen, written on her landing in England, that she had left Russia without knowing that the marriage had been broken off, or that Helen had quitted General Clarendon’s. She wrote—“Let me see you and Granville once more before I die. Be in London, at my own house, to meet me. I shall be there as soon as I can be moved.”

The initials only of her name were signed. Elliot added a postscript, saying that her lady had suffered much from an unusually long passage, and that she was not sure what day they could be in town.

There was nothing from Lady Cecilia.—Cockburn said that her ladyship had not been at home when he set out; that his master had ordered him to travel all night, to get to Llansillen as fast as possible, and to make no delay in delivering the letter to Miss Stanley.

To set out instantly, to be in town at her house to meet Lady Davenant, was, of course, Helen’s immediate determination. General Clarendon had sent his travelling carriage for her; and under the circumstances, her friends could have no wish but to speed her departure. Miss Clarendon expressed surprise at there being no letter from Lady Cecilia, and would see and question Cockburn herself; but nothing more was to be learned than what he had already told, that the packet from Lady Davenant had come by express to his master after Lady Cecilia had driven out, as it had been her custom of late, almost every day, to Kensington, to see her child. Nothing could be more natural, Mrs. Pennant thought, and she only wondered at Esther’s unconvinced look of suspicion. “Nothing, surely, can be more natural, my dear Esther.” To which Esther replied, “Very likely, ma’am.” Helen was too much hurried and too much engrossed by the one idea of Lady Davenant to think of what they said. At parting she had scarcely time even to thank her two friends for all their kindness, but they understood her feelings, and, as Miss Clarendon said, words on that point were unnecessary. Aunt Pennant embraced her again and again, and then let her go, saying, “I must not detain you, my dear.”

“But I must,” said Miss Clarendon, “for one moment. There is one point on which my parting words are necessary. Helen! keep clear of Lady Cecilia’s affairs, whatever they may be. Hear none of her secrets.”

Helen wished she had never heard any; did not believe there were any more to hear; but she promised herself and Miss Clarendon that she would observe this excellent counsel.

And now she was in the carriage, and on her road to town. And now she had leisure to breathe, and to think, and to feel. Her thoughts and feelings, however, could be only repetitions of fears and hopes about Lady Davenant, and uncertainty and dread of what would happen when she should require explanation of all that had occurred in her absence. And how would Lady Cecilia he able to meet her mother’s penetration?—ill or well, Lady Davenant was so clear-sighted. “And how shall I,” thought Helen, “without plunging deeper in deceit, avoid revealing the truth? Shall I assist Cecilia to deceive her mother in her last moments; or shall I break my promise, betray Cecilia’s secret, and at last be the death of her mother by the shock?” It is astonishing how often the mind can go over the same thoughts and feelings without coming to any conclusion, any ease from racking suspense. In the mean time, on rolled the carriage, and Cockburn, according to his master’s directions, got her over the ground with all conceivable speed.

When they were within the last stage of London, the carriage suddenly stopped, and Helen, who was sitting far back, deep in her endless reverie, started forward—Cockburn was at the carriage-door.

“My lady, coming to meet you, Miss Stanley.”

It was Cecilia herself. But Cecilia so changed in her whole appearance, that Helen would scarcely have known her. She was so much struck that she hardly knew what was said; but the carriage-doors were opened, and Lady Cecilia was beside her, and Cockburn shut the door without permitting one moment’s delay, and on they drove.

Lady Cecilia was excessively agitated. Helen had not power to utter a word, and was glad that Cecilia went on speaking very fast; though she spoke without appearing to know well what she was saying: of Helen’s goodness in coming so quickly, of her fears that she would never have been in time—“but she was in time,—her mother had not yet arrived. Clarendon had gone to meet her on the road, she believed—she was not quite certain.”

That seemed very extraordinary to Helen. “Not quite certain?” said she.

“No, I am not,” replied Cecilia, and she coloured; her very pale cheek flushed; but she explained not at all, she left that subject, and spoke of the friends Helen had left at Llansillen—then suddenly of her mother’s return—her hopes—her fears—and then, without going on to the natural idea of seeing her mother, and of how soon they should see her, began to talk of Beauclerc—of Mr. Churchill’s being quite out of danger—of the general’s expectation of Beauclerc’s immediate return. “And then, my dearest Helen,” said she, “all will be——-”

“Oh! I do not know how it will be!” cried she, her tone changing suddenly; and, from the breathless hurry in which she had been running on, sinking at once to a low broken tone, and speaking very slowly. “I cannot tell what will become of any of us. We can never be happy again—any one of us. And it is all my doing—and I cannot die. Oh! Helen, when I tell you——-”

She stopped, and Miss Clarendon’s warning counsel, all her own past experience, were full in Helen’s mind; and after a moment’s silence, she stopped Cecilia just as she seemed to have gathered power to speak, and begged that she would not tell her any thing that was to be kept secret. She could not, would not hear any secrets; she turned her head aside, and let down the glass, and looked out, as if determined not to be compelled to receive this confidence.

“Have you, then, lost all interest, all affection for me, Helen? I deserve it!—But you need not fear me now, Helen: I have done with deception, would to Heaven I had never begun with it!”

It was the tone and look of truth—she steadily fixed her eyes upon Helen—and instead of the bright beams that used to play in those eyes, there was now a dark deep-seated sorrow, almost despair. Helen was touched to the heart: it was indeed impossible for her, it would have been impossible for any one who had any feeling, to have looked upon Lady Cecilia Clarendon at that moment, and to have recollected what she had so lately been, without pity. The friend of her childhood looked upon her with all the poignant anguish of compassion—

“Oh! my dear Cecilia! how changed!”

Helen was not sensible that she uttered the words “how changed!”

“Changed! yes! I believe I am,” said Lady Cecilia, in a calm voice, “very much changed in appearance, but much more in reality; my mind is more altered than my person. Oh! Helen! if you could see into my mind at this moment, and know how completely it is changed;—but it is all in vain now! You have suffered, and suffered for me! but your sufferings could not equal mine. You lost love and happiness, but still conscious of deserving both: I had both at my command, and I could enjoy neither under the consciousness, the torture of remorse.”

Helen threw her arms round her, and exclaimed, “Do not think of me!—all will be well—since you have resolved on the truth, all will yet be well.”

Cecilia sighed deeply and went on.—“I am sure, Helen, you were surprised that my child was born alive; at least I was. I believe its mother had not feeling enough to endanger its existence. Well, Clarendon has that comfort at all events, and, as a boy, it will never put him in mind of his mother. Well, Helen, I had hopes of myself to the last minute; I really and truly hoped, as I told you, that I should have had courage to tell him all when I put the child into his arms. But his joy!—I could not dash his joy—I could not!—and then I thought I never could. I knew you would give me up; I gave up all hope of myself. I was very unhappy, and Clarendon thought I was very ill; and I acknowledge that I was anxious about you, and let all the blame fall on you, innocent, generous creature!—I heard my husband perpetually upbraiding you when he saw me ill—all, he said, the consequences of your falsehood—and all the time I knew it was my own.

“My dear Helen, it is impossible to tell you all the daily, hourly necessities for dissimulation which occurred. Every day, you know, we were to send to inquire for Mr. Churchill; and every day when Clarendon brought me the bulletin, he pitied me, and blamed you; and the double dealing in my countenance he never suspected—always interpreted favourably. Oh, such confidence as he had in me—and how it has been wasted, abused! Then letters from Beauclerc—how I bore to hear them read I cannot conceive: and at each time that I escaped, I rejoiced and reproached myself—and reproached myself and rejoiced. I succeeded in every effort at deception, and was cursed by my own success. Encouraged to proceed, I soon went on without shame and without fear. The general heard me defending you against the various reports which my venomous cousin had circulated, and he only admired what he called ‘my amiable zeal.’ His love for me increased, but it gave me no pleasure: for, Helen, now I am going to tell you an extraordinary turn which my mind took, for which I cannot account—I can hardly believe it—it seems out of human nature—my love for him decreased!—not only because I felt that he would hate me if he discovered my deceit, but because he was lowered in my estimation! I had always had, as every body has, even my mother, the highest opinion of his judgment. To that judgment I had always looked up; it had raised me in my own opinion; it was a motive to me to be equal to what he thought me: but now that motive was gone, I no longer looked up to him; his credulous affection had blinded his judgment—he was my dupe! I could not reverence—I could not love one who was my dupe. But I cannot tell you how shocked I was at myself when I felt my love for him decrease every time I saw him.

“I thought myself a monster; I had grown use to every thing but that—that I could not endure; it was a darkness of the mind—a coldness; it was as if the sun had gone out of the universe; it was more—it was worse—it was as if I was alone in the world. Home was a desert to me. I went out every evening; sometimes, but rarely, Clarendon accompanied me: he had become more retired; his spirits had declined with mine; and though he was glad I should go out and amuse myself, yet he was always exact as to the hours of my return. I was often late—later than I ought to have been, and I made a multitude of paltry excuses; this it was, I believe, which first shook his faith in my truth; but I was soon detected in a more decided failure.

“You know I never had the least taste for play of any kind: you may remember I used to be scolded for never minding what I was about at ecarté: in short, I never had the least love for it—it wearied me; but now that my spirits were gone, it was a sort of intoxication in which I cannot say I indulged—for it was no indulgence, but to which I had recourse. Louisa Castlefort, you know, was always fond of play—got into her first difficulties by that means—she led me on. I lost a good deal of money to her, and did not care about it as long as I could pay; but presently it came to a time when I could not pay without applying to the general: I applied to him, but under false pretences—to pay this bill or that, or to buy something, which I never bought: this occurred so often and to such extent, that he suspected—he discovered how it went; he told me so. He spoke in that low, suppressed, that terrible voice which I had heard once before; I said, I know not what, in deprecation of his anger. ‘I am not angry, Cecilia,’ said he. I caught his hand, and would have detained him; he withdrew that hand, and, looking at me, exclaimed, ‘Beautiful creature! half those charms would I give for 真相！’ He left the room, and there was contempt in his look.

“All my love—all my reverence, returned for him in an instant; but what could I say? He never recurred to the subject; and now, when I saw the struggle in his mind, my passion for him returned in all its force.

“People who flattered me often, you know, said I was fascinating, and I determined to use my powers of fascination to regain my husband’s heart; how little I knew that heart! I dressed to please him—oh! I never dressed myself with such care in my most coquettish days;—I gave a splendid ball; I dressed to please him—he used to be delighted with my dancing: he had said, no matter what, but I wanted to make him say it—feel it again; he neither said nor felt it. I saw him standing looking at me, and at the close of the dance I heard from him one sigh. I was more in love with him than when first we were married, and he saw it, but that did not restore me to his confidence—his esteem; nothing could have done that, but—what I had not. One step in dissimulation led to another.

“After Lord Beltravers returned from Paris on Lady Blanche’s marriage, I used to meet him continually at Louisa Castlefort’s. As for play, that was over with me for ever, but I went to Louisa’s continually, because it was the gayest house I could go to; I used to meet Lord Beltravers there, and he pretended to pay me a vast deal of attention, to which I was utterly indifferent, but his object was to push his sister into society again by my means. He took advantage of that unfortunate note which I had received from Madame de St. Cymon, when she was at Old Forest; he wanted me to admit her among my acquaintance; he urged it in every possible way, and was excessively vexed that it would not do: not that he cared for her; he often spoke of her in a way that shocked me, but it hurt his pride that she should be excluded from the society to which her rank entitled her. I had met her at Louisa’s once or twice; but when I found that for her brother’s sake she was always to be invited, I resolved to go there no more, and I made a merit of this with Clarendon. He was pleased; he said, ‘That is well, that is right, my dear Cecilia.’ And he went out more with me. One night at the Opera, the Comtesse de St. Cymon was in the box opposite to us, no lady with her, only some gentlemen. She watched me; I did all I could to avoid her eye, but at an unlucky moment she caught mine, bent forward, and had the assurance to bow. The general snatched the opera-glass from my hand, made sure who it was, and then said to me,

“‘How does that woman dare to claim your notice, Lady Cecilia? I am afraid there must have been some encouragement on your part.’

“‘None,’ said I, ‘nor ever shall be; you see I take no notice.’

“‘But you must have taken notice, or this could never be?’

“‘No indeed!’ persisted I. ‘Helen! I really forgot at the moment that first unfortunate note. An instant afterwards I recollected it, and the visit about the cameos, but that was not my fault. I had, to be sure, dropped a card in return at her door, and I ought to have mentioned that, but I really did not recollect it till the words had passed my lips, and then it was too late, and I did not like to go back and spoil my case by an exception. The general did not look quite satisfied; he did not receive my assertions as implicitly as formerly. He left the box afterwards to speak to some one, and while he was gone in came Lord Beltravers. After some preliminary nothings, he went directly to the point; and said in an assured manner, ‘I believe you do not know my sister at this distance. She has been endeavouring to catch your eye.’

“‘The Comtesse de St. Cymon does me too much honour,’ said I with a slight inclination of the head, and elevation of the eyebrow, which spoke sufficiently plainly.

“Unabashed, and with a most provoking, almost sneering look, he replied, ‘Madame de St. Cymon had wished to say a few words to your ladyship on your own account; am I to understand this cannot be?’

“‘On my own account?’ said I, ‘I do not in the least understand your lordship.’ ‘I am not sure,’ said he, ‘that I perfectly comprehend it. But I know that you sometimes drive to Kensington, and sometimes take a turn in the gardens there. My sister lives at Kensington, and could not she, without infringing etiquette, meet you in your walk, and have the honour of a few words with you? Something she wants to say to you,’ and here he lowered his voice, ‘about a locket, and Colonel D’Aubigny.’

“Excessively frightened, and hearing some one at the door, I answered, ‘I do not know, I believe I shall drive to Kensington to-morrow.’ He bowed delighted, and relieved me from his presence that instant. The moment afterwards General Clarendon came in. He asked me, ‘Was not that Lord Beltravers whom I met?’

“‘Yes,’ said I; ‘he came to reproach me for not noticing his sister, and I answered him in such a manner as to make him clear that there was no hope.’

“‘You did right,’ said he, ‘if you did so.’ My mind was in such confusion that I could not quite command my countenance, and I put up my fan as if the lights hurt me. “‘Cecilia,’ said he, ‘take care what you are about. Remember, it is not my request only, but my command to my wife’ (he laid solemn stress on the words) ‘that she should have no communication with this woman.’

“‘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.”

Lady Cecilia sank back, and Helen, overwhelmed with all she had heard, could for some time only pity her in silence; and at last could only suggest that the general would not have time for any private communication with Lady Davenant, as her woman would be in the carriage with her, and the general was on horseback.

It was late in the day before they reached town. As they came near Grosvenor Square, Cockburn inquired whether they were to drive home, or to Lady Davenant’s?

“To my mother’s, certainly, and as fast as you can.”

Lady Davenant had not arrived, but there were packages in the hall, her courier, and her servants, who said that General Clarendon was with her, but not in the carriage; he had sent them on. No message for Lady Cecilia, but that Lady Davenant would be in town this night.

To night—some hours still of suspense! As long as there were arrangements to be made, anything to do or to think of but that meeting of which they dared not think, it was endurable, but too soon all was settled; nothing to be done, but to wait and watch, to hear the carriages roll past, and listen, and start, and look at each other, and sink back disappointed. Lady Cecilia walked from the sofa to the window, and looked out, and back again—-continually, continually, till at last Helen begged her to sit down. She sat down before an old piano-forte of her mother’s, on which her eyes fixed; it was one on which she had often played with Helen when they were children. “Happy, innocent days,” said she; “I never shall we be so happy again, Helen! But I cannot think of it;” she rose hastily, and threw herself on the sofa.

A servant, who had been watching at the hall-door, came in—“The carriage, my lady! Lady Davenant is coming.”

Lady Cecilia started up; they ran down stairs; the carriage stopped, and in the imperfect light they saw the figure of Lady Davenant, scarcely altered, leaning upon General Clarendon’s arm. The first sound of her voice was feebler, softer, than formerly—quite tender, when she said, as she embraced them both by turns, “My dear children!”

“You have accomplished your journey, Lady Davenant, better than you expected,” said the general.

Something struck her in the tone of his voice. She turned quickly, saw her daughter lay her hand upon his arm, and saw that arm withdrawn!

They all entered the saloon—it was a blaze of light; Lady Davenant, shading her eyes with her hand, looked round at the countenances, which she had not yet seen. Lady Cecilia shrank back. The penetrating eyes turned from her, glanced at Helen, and fixed upon the general.

“What is all this?” cried she.

Helen threw her arms round Lady Davenant. “Let us think of you first, and only—be calm.”

Lady Davenant broke from her, and pressing forwards exclaimed, “I must see my daughter—if I have still a daughter! Cecilia!”

The general moved. Lady Cecilia, who had sunk upon a chair behind him, attempted to rise. Lady Davenant stood opposite to her; the light was now full upon her face and figure; and her mother saw how it was changed! and looking back at Helen, she said in a low, awful tone, “I see it; the black spot has spread!”

Scarcely had Lady Davenant pronounced these words, when she was seized with violent spasms. The general had but just time to save her from falling; he could not leave her. All was terror! Even her own woman, so long used to these attacks, said it was the worst she had ever seen, and for some time evidently feared it would terminate fatally. At last slowly she came to herself, but perfectly in possession of her intellects, she sat up, looked round, saw the agony in her daughter’s countenance, and holding out her hand to her, said, “Cecilia, if there is anything that I ought to know, it should be said now.” Cecilia caught her mother’s hand, and threw herself upon her knees. “Helen, Helen, stay!” cried she, “do not go, Clarendon!”

He stood leaning against the chimney-piece, motionless, while Cecilia, in a faltering voice, began; her voice gaining strength, she went on, and poured out all—even from the very beginning, that first suppression of the truth, that first cowardice, then all that followed from that one falsehood—all—even to the last degradation, when in the power, in the presence of that bad woman, her husband found and left her. She shuddered as she came to the thought of that look of his, and not daring, not having once dared while she spoke, to turn towards him, her eyes fixed upon her mother’s; but as she finished speaking, her head sank, she laid her face on the sofa beside her; she felt her mother’s arm thrown over her and she sobbed convulsively.

寂静无声。

“I have still a daughter!” were the first words that broke the silence. “Not such as I might have had, but that is my own fault.”

“Oh mother!”

“I have still a daughter,” repeated Lady Davenant. “There is,” continued she, turning to General Clarendon, “there is a redeeming power in truth. She may yet be more worthy to be your wife than she has ever yet been!”

“Never!” exclaimed the general. His countenance was rigid as iron; then suddenly it relaxed, and going up to Helen, he said,

“I have done you injustice, Miss Stanley. I have been misled. I have done you injustice, and by Heaven! I will do you public justice, cost me what it will. Beauclerc will be in England in a few days, at the altar I will give you to him publicly; in the face of all the world, will I mark my approbation of his choice; publicly will I repair the wrong I have done you. I will see his happiness and yours before I leave England for ever!”

Lady Cecilia started up: “Clarendon!” was all she could say.

“Yes, Lady Cecilia Clarendon,” said he, all the stern fixedness of his face returning at once—“Yes, Lady Cecilia Clarendon, we separate, now and for ever.”

Then turning from her, he addressed Lady Davenant. “I shall be ordered on some foreign service. Your daughter, Lady Davenant, will remain with you, while I am still in England, unless you wish otherwise——”

“Leave my daughter with me, my dear general, till my death,” said Lady Davenant. She spoke calmly, but the general, after a respectful—an affectionate pressure of the hand she held out to him, said, “That may be far distant, I trust in God, and we shall at all events meet again the day of Helen’s marriage.”

“And if that day is to be a happy day to me,” cried Helen, “to me or to your own beloved ward, General Clarendon, it must be happy to Cecilia!”

“As happy as she has left it in my power to make her. When I am gone, my fortune——”

“Name it not as happiness for my daughter,” interrupted Lady Davenant, “or you do her injustice, General Clarendon.”

“I name it but to do her justice,” said he. “It is all that she has left it in my power to give;” and then his long suppressed passion suddenly bursting forth, he turned to Cecilia. “All I can give to one so false—false from the first moment to the last—false to me—to me! who so devotedly, fondly, blindly loved her!” He rushed out of the room.

Then Lady Davenant, taking her daughter in her arms, said, “My child, return to me!”

She sank back exhausted. Mrs. Elliott was summoned, she wished them all out of the room, and said so; but Lady Davenant would have her daughter stay beside her, and with Cecilia’s hand in hers, she fell into a profound slumber.

On awaking in the morning, after some long-expected event has happened, we feel in doubt whether it has really occurred, or whether it is all a dream. Then comes the awful sense of waking truth, and the fear that what has been done, or said, is irremediable, and then the astonishment that it really is done. “It is over!” Helen repeated to herself, repeated aloud, before she could well bring herself from that state of half belief, before she could recover her stunned faculties.

Characters which she thought she perfectly understood, had each appeared, in these new circumstances, different from what she had expected. From Cecilia she had scarcely hoped, even at the last moment, for such perfect truth in her confession. From Lady Davenant not so much indulgence, not all that tenderness for her daughter. From the general, less violence of expression, more feeling for Cecilia; he had not allowed the merit of her candour, her courage at the last. It was a perfectly voluntary confession, all that concerned Colonel D’Aubigny, and the letters could never have been known to the general by any other means. Disappointed love, confidence duped, and his pride of honour, had made him forget himself in anger, even to cruelty. Helen thought he would feel this hereafter, fancied he must feel it even now, but that, though he might relent, he would not recede; though he might regret that he had made the determination, he would certainly abide by it; that which he had resolved to do, would certainly be done,—the separation between him and Cecilia would take place. And though all was clear and bright in Helen’s own prospects, the general’s esteem restored, his approbation to be publicly marked, Beauclerc to be convinced of her perfect innocence! Beauclerc, freed from all fear and danger, returning all love and joy; yet she could not be happy—it was all mixed with bitterness, anguish for Cecilia.

She had so often so forcibly urged her to this confession! and now it was made, did Helen regret that it was made? No, independently of her own cleared character, she was satisfied, even for Cecilia’s sake, for it was right, whatever were the consequences; it was right, and in the confusion and discordance of her thoughts and feelings, this was the only fixed point. To this conclusion she had come, but had not been able farther to settle her mind, when she was told that Lady Davenant was now awake, and wished to see her.

Lady Davenant, renovated by sleep, appeared to Helen, even when she saw her by daylight, scarcely altered in her looks. There was the same life, and energy, and elasticity, and strength, Helen hoped, not only of mind, but of body, and quick as that hope rose, as she stood beside her bed, and looked upon her, Lady Davenant marked it, and said, “You are mistaken, my dear Helen, I shall not last long; I am now to consider how I am to make the most of the little life that remains. How to repair as far as may be, as far as can be, in my last days, the errors of my youth! You know, Helen, what I mean, and it is now no time to waste words, therefore I shall not begin by wasting upon you, Helen, any reproaches. Foolish, generous, weak creature that you are, and as the best of human beings will ever be—I must be content with you as you are; and so,” continued she, in a playful tone, “we must love one another, perhaps all the better, for not being too perfect. And indeed, my poor child, you have been well punished already, and the worst of criminals need not be punished twice. Of the propensity to sacrifice your own happiness for others you will never be cured, but you will, I trust, in future, when I am gone never to return, be true to yourself. Now as to my daughter—”

Lady Davenant then went over with Helen every circumstance in Cecilia’s confession, and showed how, in the midst of the shock she had felt at the disclosure of so much falsehood, hope for her daughter’s future truth had risen in her mind even from the courage, and fulness, and exactness of her confession. “And it is not,” continued she, “a sudden reformation; I have no belief in sudden reformations. I think I see that this change in Cecilia’s mind has been some time working out by her own experience of the misery, the folly, the degradation of deceit.”

Helen earnestly confirmed this from her own observations, and from the expressions which had burst forth in the fulness of Cecilia’s heart and strength of her conviction, when she told her all that had passed in her mind.

“That is well!” pursued Lady Davenant; “but principles cannot be depended upon till confirmed by habit; and Cecilia’s nature is so variable—impressions on her are easily, even deeply made, but all in sand; they may shift with the next tide—may be blown away by the next wind.”

“Oh no,” exclaimed Helen, “there is no danger of that. I see the impression deepening every hour, from your kindness and—” Helen hesitated, “And besides—”

“除了,” said Lady Davenant, “usually comes as the arrière-ban of weak reasons: you mean to say that the sight of my sufferings must strengthen, must confirm all her principles—her taste for truth. Yes,” continued she, in her most firm tone, “Cecilia’s being with me during my remaining days will be painful but salutary to her. She sees, as you do, that all the falsehood meant to save me has been in vain; that at last the shock has only hastened my end: it must be so, Helen. Look at it steadily, in the best point of view—the evil you cannot avert; take the good and be thankful for it.”

And Cecilia—how did she feel? Wretched she was, but still in her wretchedness there was within her a relieved conscience and the sustaining power of truth; and she had now the support of her mother’s affection, and the consolation of feeling that she had at last done Helen justice! To her really generous, affectionate disposition, there was in the return of her feelings to their natural course, an indescribable sense of relief. Broken, crushed, as were all her own hopes, her sympathy, even in the depths of her misery, now went pure, free from any windings of deceit, direct to Helen’s happy prospects, in which she shared with all the eagerness of her warm heart.

Beauclerc arrived, found the general at home expecting him, and in his guardian’s countenance and voice he saw and heard only what was natural to the man. The general was prepared, and Beauclerc was himself in too great impatience to hear the facts, to attend much to the manner in which things were told.

“Lady Davenant has returned ill; her daughter is with her, and Helen——”

“And Helen——”

“And you may be happy, Beauclerc, if there be truth in woman,” said the general. “Go to her—you will find I can do justice. Go, and return when you can tell me that your wedding-day is fixed. And, Beauclerc,” he called after him, “let it be as soon as possible.”

“The only unnecessary advice my dear guardian has ever given me,” Beauclerc, laughing, replied.

The general’s prepared composure had not calculated upon this laugh, this slight jest; his features gave way. Beauclerc, struck with a sudden change in the general’s countenance, released his hand from the congratulatory shake in which its power failed. The general turned away as if to shun inquiry, and Beauclerc, however astonished, respected his feelings, and said no more. He hastened to Lady Davenant with all a lover’s speed—with all a lover’s joy saw the first expression in Helen’s eyes; and with all a friend’s sorrow for Lady Davenant and for the general, heard all that was to be told of Lady Cecilia’s affairs: her mother undertook the explanation, Cecilia herself did not appear.

In the first rush of Beauclerc’s joy in Helen’s cleared fame, he was ready to forgive all the deceit; yes, to forgive all; but it was such forgiveness as contempt can easily grant, which can hardly be received by any soul not lost to honour. This Lady Davenant felt, and felt so keenly, that Helen trembled for her: she remained silent, pressing her hand upon her heart, which told her sense of approaching danger. It was averted by the calmness, the truth, the justice with which Helen spoke to Beauclerc of Cecilia. As she went on, Lady Davenant’s colour returned and Beauclerc’s ready sympathy went with her as far as she pleased, till she came to one point, from which he instantly started back. Helen proposed, if Beauclerc would consent, to put off their marriage till the general should be reconciled to Cecilia.

“Attempt it not, Helen,” cried Lady Davenant; “delay not for any consideration. Your marriage must be as soon as possible, for my sake, for Cecilia’s—mark me!—for Cecilia’s sake, as soon as possible let it be; it is but justice that her conscience should be so far relieved, let her no longer obstruct your union. Let me have the satisfaction of seeing it accomplished; name the day, Helen, I may not have many to live.”

The day, the earliest possible, was named by Helen; and the moment it was settled, Lady Davenant hurried Beauclerc away, saying—“Return to General Clarendon—spare him suspense—it is all we can do for him.”

The general’s wishes in this, and in all that followed, were to be obeyed. He desired that the marriage should be public, that all should be bidden of rank, fashion, and note—all their family connections. Lady Katrine Hawksby, he especially named. To do justice to Helen seemed the only pleasurable object now remaining to him. In speaking to Beauclerc, he never once named Lady Cecilia; it seemed a tacit compact between him and Beauclerc, that her name should not be pronounced. They talked of Lady Davenant; the general said he did not think her in such danger as she seemed to consider herself to be: his opinion was, he declared, confirmed by his own observation; by the strength of mind and of body which she had shown since her arrival in England. Beauclerc could only hope that he was right; and the general went on to speak of the service upon which he was to be employed: said that all 安排, laying an emphasis upon the word, would be transacted by his man of business. He spoke of what would happen after he quitted England, and left his ward a legacy of some favourite horse which he used to ride at Clarendon Park, and seemed to take it for granted that Beauclerc and Helen would be sometimes there when he was gone. Then, having cleared his throat several times, the general desired that Lady Cecilia’s portrait, which he designated only as “the picture over the chimney-piece in my room,” should be sent after him. And taking leave of Beauclerc, he set off for Clarendon Park, where he was to remain till the day before the wedding;—the day following he had fixed for his departure from England.

When Beauclerc was repeating this conversation to Helen, Lady Davenant came into the room just as he was telling these last particulars. She marked the smile, the hope that was excited, but shook her head, and said, “Raise no false hopes in my daughter’s mind, I conjure you;” and she turned the conversation to other subjects. Beauclerc had been to see Mr. Churchill, and of that visit Lady Davenant wished to hear.

As to health, Beauclerc said that Mr. Churchill had recovered almost perfectly; “but there remains, and I fear will always remain, a little lameness, not disabling, but disfiguring—an awkwardness in moving, which, to a man of his personal pretensions, is trying to the temper; but after noticing the impediment as he advanced to meet me, he shook my hand cordially, and smiling, said, ‘You see I am a marked man; I always wished to be so, you know, so pray do not repent, my good friend.’ He saw I was too much moved for jesting, then he took it more seriously, but still kindly, assuring me that I had done him real service; it is always of service, he said, to be necessitated to take time for quiet reflection, of which he had had sufficient in his hours of solitary confinement—this little adversity had left him leisure to be good.

“And then,” continued Beauclerc, “Churchill adverting to our foolish quarrel, to clear that off my mind, threw the whole weight of the blame at once comfortably upon the absent—on Beltravers. Churchill said we had indeed been a couple of bravely blind fools; he ought, as he observed, to have recollected in time, that

‘A full hot horse, who being allowed his way,
Self-mettle tires him.‘

“So that was good, and Horace, in perfect good-humour with me and himself, and all the world, played on with the past and the future, glad he had no more of his bones to exfoliate; glad, after so many months of failure in ‘the first intention,’ to find himself in a whole skin, and me safe returned from transportation—spoke of Helen seriously; said that his conduct to her was the only thing that weighed upon his mind, but he hoped that his sincere penitence, and his months of suffering, would be considered as sufficient atonement for his having brought her name before the public; and he finished by inviting himself to our wedding, if it were only for the pleasure of seeing what sort of a face Lady Katrine Hawksby will have upon the occasion.—It was told of a celebrated statesman, jealous of his colleagues, Horace says, that every commonly good speech cost him a twinge of the gout; and every uncommonly good one sent him to bed with a regular fit. Now Horace protests that every commonly decent marriage of her acquaintance costs Lady Katrine at least a sad headache; but Miss Stanley’s marriage, likely as it is to be so happy after all, as he politely said, foredooms poor Lady Katrine to a month’s heartache at the least, and a face full ell long.”

Whether in his penitence he had forsworn slander or not, it was plain that Churchill had not lost either his taste, talent, or power of sarcasm, and of this Beauclerc could have given, and in time gave, further illustrations; but it was in a case which came home to him rather too nearly, and on which his reports did not flow quite so fluently—touching Lord Beltravers, it was too tender a subject. Beauclerc was ashamed of himself for having been so deceived when, after all his guardian had done to save his fortune, after all that noble sacrifice had been made, he found that it was to no good end, but for the worst purpose possible. Lord Beltravers, as it was now clear, never had the slightest intention of living in that house of his ancestors on which Beauclerc had lavished his thousands, ay, and tens of thousands: but while he was repairing, and embellishing, and furnishing Old Forest, fit for an English aristocrat of the first water, the Lord Beltravers at the gaming-table, pledged it, and lost it, and sold it; and it went to the hammer. This came out in the first fury of Lord Beltravers upon his sister’s marriage at Paris: and then and there Beauclerc first came to the perception that his good friend had predestined him and his fortune for the Lady Blanche, whom, all the time, he considered as a fool and a puppet, and for whom he had not the slightest affection: it was all for his own interested purposes.

Beauclerc suddenly opened his eyes wide, and saw it all at once: how it had happened that they had never seen it before, notwithstanding all that the general on one side, and Lady Davenant on the other, had done to force them open, was incomprehensible; but, as Lady Davenant observed, “A sort of cataract comes over the best eyes for a time, and the patient will not suffer himself to be couched; and if you struggle to perform the operation that is to do him good against his will, it is odds but you blind him for life.”

Helen could not, however, understand how Granville could have been so completely deceived, except that it had been impossible for him to imagine the exquisite meanness of that man’s mind.

“There,” cried Beauclerc, “you see my fault was having too little, instead of too much imagination.”

Lady Davenant smiled, and said, “It has been admirably observed, that it is among men as among certain tribes of animals, it is sometimes only necessary that one of the herd should step forward and lead the way, to make all the others follow with alacrity and submission; and I solve the whole difficulty thus: I suppose that Lord Beltravers, just following Beauclerc’s lead, succeeded in persuading him that he was a man of genius and a noble fellow, by allowing all Beauclerc’s own paradoxes, adopting all his ultra-original opinions, and, in short, sending him back the image of his own mind, till Granville had been caught by it, and had fairly fallen in love with it—a mental metaphysical Narcissus.”[1]Lord Mahon. “After all,” continued Lady Davenant, smiling, “of all the follies of youth, the dangerous folly of trying to do good—that for which you stand convicted, may be the most easily pardoned, the most safely left to time and experience to cure. You know, Granville, that ever since the time of Alexander the Great’s great tutor, the characteristic faults of youth and age have been the ‘太多'和'太少了.’ In youth, the too much confidence in others and in themselves, the too much of enthusiasm—too much of benevolence;—in age, alas! too little. And with this youth, who has the too much in every thing—what shall we do with him, Helen? Take him, for better for worse, you must; and I must love him as I have done from his childhood, a little while longer—to the end of my life.”

“A little longer, to the end of her life!” said Beauclerc to himself, as leaning on the back of Helen’s chair he looked at Lady Davenant. “I cannot believe that she whom I see before me is passing away, to be with us but a little longer; so full of life as she appears; such energy divine! No, no, she will live, live long!”

And as his eyes looked that hope, Helen caught it, and yet she doubted, and sighed, but still she had hope. Cecilia had none; she was sitting behind her mother; she looked up at Helen, and shook her head; she had seen more of her mother’s danger, she had been with her in nights of fearful struggle. She had been with her just after she had written to Lord Davenant what she must have felt to be a farewell letter—letter, too, which contained the whole history of Cecilia’s deception and Helen’s difficulties, subjects so agitating that the writing of them had left her mother in such a state of exhaustion that Cecilia could think only with terror for her, yet she exerted all her power over herself to hide her anguish, not only for her mother’s but for Helen’s sake.

The preparations for the wedding went on, pressed forward by Lady Davenant as urgently as the general could desire. The bridesmaids were to be Lady Emily Greville’s younger sister, Lady Susan, and, at Helen’s particular request, Miss Clarendon. Full of joy, wonder, and sympathy, in wedding haste Miss Clarendon and Mrs. Pennant arrived both delighted that it was all happily settled for Helen: which most, it was scarcely possible to say; but which most curious as to the means by which it had been settled, it was very possible to see. When Miss Clarendon had secured a private moment with Helen, she began.

“Now tell me—tell me everything about yourself.”

Helen could only repeat what the general had already written to her sister—that he was now convinced that the reports concerning Miss Stanley were false, his esteem restored, his public approbation to be given, Beauclerc satisfied, and her rejection honourably retracted.

“I will ask you no more, Helen, by word or look,” said Esther; “I understand it all, my brother and Lady Cecilia are separated for life. And now let us go to aunt Pennant: she will not annoy you by her curiosity, but how she will be able to manage her sympathy amongst you with these crossing demands I know not; Lady Cecilia’s wretchedness will almost spoil my aunt’s joy for you—it cannot be pure joy.”

Pure joy! how far from it Helen’s sigh told; and Miss Clarendon had scarcely patience enough with Lady Cecilia to look at her again; had scarcely seconded, at least with good grace, a suggestion of Mrs. Pennant’s that they should prevail on Lady Cecilia to take a turn in the park with them, she looked so much in want of fresh air.

“We can go now, my dear Esther, you know, before it is time for that picture sale, at which you are to be before two o’clock.” Lady Davenant desired Cecilia to go. “Helen will be with me, do, my dear Cecilia, go.”

She went, and before the awkwardness of Miss Clarendon’s silence ceased, and before Mrs. Pennant had settled which glass or which blind was best up or down, Lady Cecilia burst into tears, thanked aunt Pennant for her sympathy, and now, above the fear of Miss Clarendon—above all fear but that of doing further wrong by concealment, she at once told the whole truth, that they might, as well as the general, do full justice to Helen, and that they might never, never blame Clarendon for the separation which was to be.

That he should have mentioned nothing of her conduct even to his sister, was not surprising. “I know his generous nature,” said Cecilia.

“But I never knew yours till this moment, Cecilia,” cried Miss Clarendon, embracing her; “my sister, now,—separation or not.”

“But there need be no separation,” said kind aunt Pennant. Cecilia sighed, and Miss Clarendon repeated, “You will find in me a sister at all events.”

She now saw Cecilia as she really was—faults and virtues. Perhaps indeed in this moment of revulsion of feeling, in the surprise of gratified confidence, she overvalued Lady Cecilia’s virtues, and was inclined to do her more than justice, in her eagerness to make generous reparation for unjust suspicion.

After setting down Lady Cecilia at her mother’s, the aunt and niece proceeded to the picture sale which Miss Clarendon was eager to attend, as she was in search of a pendant to a famous Berghem she possessed; and while she was considering the picture, she had the advantage of hearing a story, which seemed, indeed, to be told for the amusement of the whole room, by a party of fashionables who were standing near her:—a wonderful story of a locket, which was going about; it was variously told, but all agreed in one point—that a young married lady of high rank had never dared to appear in the World since her husband had seen this locket in her hands—it had brought out something—something which had occurred before marriage;—and here mysterious nods were interchanged.

Another version stated that the story had not yet been fully explained to the husband, that he had found the locket on the table in a room that he had suddenly entered, where he discovered her kneeling to the person in question,—“the person in question” being sometimes a woman and sometimes a man.

Then leaned forward, stretching her scraggy neck, one who had good reason to believe that the husband would soon speak out—the public would soon hear of a separation: and everybody must be satisfied that there could not be a separation without good grounds.

Miss Clarendon inquired from a gentleman near them, who the lady was with the outstretched scraggy neck—Lady Katrine Hawksby. Miss Clarendon knew her only by reputation. She did not know Miss Clarendon either by reputation or by sight; and she went on to say, she would “venture any wager that the separation would take place within a month. In short, there could be no doubt that before marriage,”—and she ended with a look which gave a death-blow to the reputation.

Exceedingly shocked, Miss Clarendon, not only from a sense of justice to Lady Cecilia, but from feeling for her brother’s honour, longed to reply in defence; but she constrained herself for once, and having been assured by Lady Cecilia that all had been confessed to her mother, she thought that Lady Davenant must be the best person to decide what should be done. She went to her house immediately, sent in word that she begged to see Lady Davenant for two or three minutes alone, was admitted; Cecilia immediately vacated the chair beside her mother’s bed, and left the room. Miss Clarendon felt some difficulty in beginning, but she forced herself to repeat all she had heard. Then Lady Davenant started up in her bed, and the colour of life spread over her face—

“Thank you, thank you, Miss Clarendon! a second time I have to thank you for an inestimable service. It is well for Cecilia that she made the whole truth known to us both—made you her friend; now we 能够 act for her. I will have that locket from Madame de St. Cymon before the sun goes down.”

Now Lady Davenant had Madame de St. Cymon completely in her power, from her acquaintance with a disgraceful transaction which had come to her knowledge at Florence. The locket was surrendered, returned with humble assurances that Madame de St. Cymon now perfectly understood the thing in its true light, and was quite convinced it had been stolen, not given. Lady Davenant glanced over her note with scorn, and was going to throw it from her into the fire, but did not. When Miss Clarendon called upon her again that evening as she had appointed, she showed it to her, and desired that she would, when her brother arrived next day, tell him what she had heard, what Lady Davenant had done, and how the locket was now in her possession.

Some people who pretend to know, maintain that the passion of love is of such an all-engrossing nature that it swallows up every other feeling; but we who judge more justly of our kind, hold differently, and rather believe that love in generous natures imparts a strengthening power, a magnetic touch, to every good feeling. Helen was incapable of being perfectly happy while her friend was miserable; and even Beauclerc, in spite of all the suffering she had caused, could not help pitying Lady Cecilia, and he heartily wished the general could be reconciled to her; yet it was a matter in which he could not properly interfere; he did not attempt it.

Lady Davenant determined to give a breakfast to all the bridal party after the marriage. In her state of health, Helen and Cecilia remonstrated, but Lady Davenant had resolved upon it, and at last they agreed it would be better than parting at the church-door—better that she should at her own house take leave of Helen and Beauclerc, who would set out immediately after the breakfast for Thorndale.

And now equipages were finished, and wedding paraphernalia sent home—the second time that wedding-dresses had been furnished for Miss Stanley;—and never once were these looked at by the bride elect, nor even by Cecilia, but to see that all was as it should be—that seen, she sighed, and passed on.

Felicie’s ecstasies were no more to be heard: we forgot to mention that she had, before Helen’s return from Llansillen, departed, dismissed in disgrace; and happy was it for Lady Cecilia and Helen to be relieved from her jabbering, and not exposed to her spying and reporting. Nevertheless, the gloom that hung over the world above could not but be observed by the world below; it was, however, naturally accounted for by Lady Davenant’s state of health, and by the anxiety which Lady Cecilia must feel for the general, who, as it had been officially announced by Mr. Cockburn, was to set out on foreign service the day after the marriage.

Lady Cecilia, notwithstanding the bright hopefulness of her temper, and her habits of sanguine belief that all would end well in which she and her good fortune had any concern, seemed now, in this respect, to have changed her nature; and ever since her husband’s denunciations, had continued quite resigned to misery, and submissive to the fate which she thought she had deserved. She was much employed in attendance upon her mother, and thankful that she was so permitted to be. She never mentioned her husband’s name, and if she alluded to him, or to what had been decreed by him, it was with an emotion that scarcely dared to touch the point. She spoke most of her child, and seemed to look to the care of him as her only consolation. The boy had been brought from Kensington for Lady Davenant to see, and was now at her house. Cecilia once said she thought he was very like his father, and hoped that he would at least take leave of his boy at the last. To that last hour—that hour when she was to see her husband once more, when they were to meet but to part, to meet first at the wedding ceremony, and at a breakfast in a public company,—altogether painful as it must be, yet she looked forward to it with a sort of longing ardent impatience. “True, it will be dreadful, yet still—still I shall see him again, see him once again, and he cannot part with his once so dear Cecilia without some word—some look, different from his last.”

The evening before the day on which the wedding was to be, Lady Cecilia was in Lady Davenant’s room, sitting beside the bed while her mother slept. Suddenly she was startled from her still and ever the same recurring train of melancholy thoughts, by a sound which had often made her heart beat with joy—her husband’s knock; she ran to the window, opened it, and was out on the balcony in an instant. His horse was at the door, he had alighted, and was going up the steps; she leaned over the rails of the balcony, and as she leaned, a flower she wore broke off—it fell at the general’s feet: he looked up, and their eyes met. There he stood, waiting on those steps, some minutes, for an answer to his inquiry how Lady Davenant was: and when the answer was brought out by Elliott, whom, as it seemed, he had desired to see, he remounted his horse, and rode away without ever again looking up to the balcony.

Lady Davenant had awakened, and when Cecilia returned on hearing her voice, her mother, as the light from the half-open shutters shone upon her face, saw that she was in tears; she kneeled down by the side of the bed, and wept bitterly; she made her mother understand how it had been.

“Not that I hoped more, but still—still to feel it so! Oh! mother, I am bitterly punished.”

Then Lady Davenant seizing those clasped hands, and raising herself in her bed, fixed her eyes earnestly upon Cecilia, and asked,—“Would you, Cecilia—tell me, would you if it were now, this moment, in your power—would you retract your confession?”

“Retract! impossible!”

“Do you repent—regret having made it, Cecilia?”

“Repent—regret having made it. No, mother, no!” replied Cecilia firmly. “I only regret that it was not sooner made. Retract!—impossible I could wish to retract the only right thing I have done, the only thing that redeems me in my inmost soul from uttermost contempt. No! rather would I be as I am, and lose that noble heart, than hold it as I did, unworthily. There is, mother, as you said—as I feel, a sustaining—a redeeming power in truth.”

Her mother threw her arms round her.

“Come to my heart, my child, close—close to my heart Heaven bless you! You have my blessing—my thanks, Cecilia. Yes, my thanks,—for now I know—I feel, my dear daughter, that my neglect of you in childhood has been repaired. You make me forgive myself, you make me happy, you have my thanks—my blessing—my warmest blessing!”

A smile of delight was on her pale face, and tears ran down as Cecilia answered—“Oh, mother, mother! blind that I have been. Why did not I sooner know this tenderness of your heart?”

“And why, my child, did I not sooner know you? The fault was mine, the suffering has been yours,—not yours alone, though.”

“Suffer no more for me, mother, for now, after this, come what may, I can bear it. I can be happy, even if——” There she paused, and then eagerly looking into her mother’s eyes she asked,—

“What do you say, mother, about him? do you think I may hope?”

“I dare not bid you hope,” replied her mother.

“Do you bid me despair?”

“No, despair in this world is only for those who have lost their own esteem, who have no confidence in themselves, for those who cannot repent, reform, and trust. My child, you must not despair. Now leave me to myself,” continued she “Open a little more of the shutter, and put that book within my reach.”

As soon as Miss Clarendon heard that her brother had arrived in town she hastened to him, and, as Lady Davenant had desired, told him of all the reports that were in circulation, and of all that Lady Cecilia had spontaneously confided to her. Esther watched his countenance as she spoke, and observed that he listened with eager attention to the proofs of exactness in Cecilia; but he said nothing, and whatever his feelings were, his determination, she could not doubt, was still unshaken; even she did not dare to press his confidence.

Miss Clarendon reported to Lady Davenant that she had obeyed her command, and she described as nearly as she could all that she thought her brother’s countenance expressed. Lady Davenant seemed satisfied, and this night she slept, as she told Cecilia in the morning, better than she had done since she returned to England. And this was the day of trial——

The hour came, and Lady Davenant was in the church with her daughter. This marriage was to be, as described in olden times, “celebrated with all the lustre and pomp imaginable;” and so it was, for Helen’s sake, Helen, the pale bride—-

“Beautiful!” the whispers ran as she appeared, “but too pale.” Leaning on General Clarendon’s arm she was led up the aisle to the altar. He felt the tremor of her arm on his, but she looked composed and almost firm. She saw no one individual of the assembled numbers, not even Cecilia or Lady Davenant. She knelt at the altar beside him to whom she was to give her faith, and General Clarendon, in the face of all the world, proudly gave her to his ward, and she, without fear, low and distinctly pronounced the sacred vow. And as Helen rose from her knees, the sun shone out, and a ray of light was on her face, and it was lovely. Every heart said so—every heart but Lady Katrine Hawksby’s—And why do we think of her at such a moment? and why does Lady Davenant think of her at such a moment? Yet she did; she looked to see if she were present, and she bade her to the breakfast.

And now all the salutations were given and received, and all the murmur of congratulations rising, the living tide poured out of the church; and then the noise of carriages, and all drove off to Lady Davenant’s; and Lady Davenant had gone through it all so far, well. And Lady Cecilia knew that it had been; and her eyes had been upon her husband, and her heart had been full of another day when she had knelt beside him at the altar. And did he, too, think of that day? She could not tell, his countenance discovered no emotion, his eyes never once turned to the place where she stood. And she was now to see him for one hour, but one hour longer, and at a public breakfast! but still she was to see him.

And now they are all at breakfast. The attention of some was upon the bride and bridegroom; of others, on Lady Cecilia and on the general; of others, on Lady Davenant; and of many, on themselves. Lady Davenant had Beauclerc on one side, General Clarendon on the other, and her daughter opposite to him. Lady Katrine was there, with her “tristeful visage,” as Churchill justly called it, and more tristeful it presently became.

When breakfast was over, seizing her moment when conversation flagged, and when there was a pause, implying “What is to be said or done next?” Lady Davenant rose from her seat with an air of preparation, and somewhat of solemnity.—All eyes were instantly upon her. She drew out a locket, which she held up to public view; then, turning to Lady Katrine Hawksby, she said—“This bauble has been much talked of, I understand, by your ladyship, but I question whether you have ever yet seen it, or know the truth concerning it. This locket was 被盗 by a worthless man, given by him to a worthless woman, from whom I have obtained it; and now I give it to the person for whom it was originally destined.”

She advanced towards Helen and put it round her neck. This done, her colour flitted—her hand was suddenly pressed to her heart; yet she commanded—absolutely commanded, the paroxysm of pain. The general was at her side; her daughter, Helen, and Beauclerc, were close to her instantly. She was just able to walk: she slowly left the room—and was no more seen by the world!

She suffered herself to be carried up the steps into her own apartment by the general, who laid her on the sofa in her dressing-room. She looked round on them, and saw that all were there whom she loved; but there was an alteration in her appearance which struck them all, and most the general, who had least expected it. She held out her hand to him, and fixing her eyes upon him with deathful expression, calmly smiled, and said—“You would not believe this could be; but now you see it must be, and soon. We have no time to lose,” continued she, and moving very cautiously and feebly, she half-raised herself—“Yes,” said she, “a moment is granted to me, thank Heaven!” She rose with sudden power and threw herself on her knees at the general’s feet: it was done before he could stop her.

“For God’s sake!” cried he, “Lady Davenant!—I conjure you—-”

She would not be raised. “No,” said she, “here I die if I appeal to you in vain—to your justice, General Clarendon, to which, as far as I know none ever appealed in vain—and shall I be the first?—a mother for her child—a dying mother for your wife—for my dear Cecilia, once dear to you.”

His face was instantly covered with his hands.

“Not to your love,” continued she—“if that be gone—to your justice I appeal, and MUST be heard, if you are what I think you: if you are not, why, go—go, instantly—go, and leave your wife, innocent as she is, to be deemed guilty—Part from her, at the moment when the only fault she committed has been repaired—Throw her from you when, by the sacrifice of all that was dear to her, she has proved her truth—Yes, you know that she has spoken the whole, the perfect truth—-”

“I know it,” exclaimed he.

“Give her up to the whole world of slanderers!—destroy her character! If now her husband separate from her, her good name is lost for ever! If now her husband protect her not—-”

Her husband turned, and clasped her in his arms. Lady Davenant rose and blessed him—blessed them both: they knelt beside her, and she joined their hands.

“Now,” said she, “I give my daughter to a husband worthy of her, and she more worthy of that noble heart than when first his. Her only fault was mine—my early neglect: it is repaired—I die in peace! You make my last moments the happiest! Helen, my dearest Helen, now, and not till now, happy—perfectly happy in Love and Truth!”