Helen was not sure what these words meant, but she now pitied him, and she admired his candour, which she thought was so far above the petty sort of character he had at first done himself the injustice to seem, and she seized the first opportunity to tell Beauclerc all Mr. Churchill had said to Lady Davenant and to her, and of the impression it had made upon them both. Beauclerc had often discussed Mr. Churchill’s character with her, but she was disappointed when she saw that what she told made no agreeable impression on Beauclerc: at first he stood quite silent, and when she asked what he thought, he said--“It’s all very fine, very clever.” “But it is all true,” said Helen, “And I admire Mr. Churchill’s knowing the truth so well and telling it so candidly.” “Every thing Mr. Churchill has said may be true--and yet I think the truth is not in him.” “You are not usually so suspicious,” said Helen. “If you had heard Mr. Churchill’s voice and emphasis, and seen his look and manner at the time, I think you could not have doubted him.” The more eager she grew, the colder Mr. Beauclerc became. “Look and manner, and voice and emphasis,” said he, “make a great impression, I know, on ladies.” “But what is your reason, Mr. Beauclerc, for disbelief? I have as yet only heard that you believe every thing that Mr. Churchill said was true, and yet that you do not believe in his truth,” said Helen, in a tone of raillery. And many a time before had Beauclerc been the first to laugh when one of his own paradoxes stared him in the face; but now he was more out of countenance than amused, and he looked seriously about for reasons to reconcile his seeming self-contradiction. “In the first place, all those allusions and those metaphorical expressions, which you have so wonderfully well remembered, and which no doubt were worth remembering, all those do not give me the idea of a man who was really feeling in earnest, and speaking the plain truth about faults, for which, if he felt at all, he must be too much ashamed to talk in such a grand style; and to talk of them at all, except to most intimate friends, seems so unnatural, and quite out of character in a man who had expressed such horror of egotists, and who is so excessively circumspect in general.” “Yes, but Mr. Churchill’s forgetting all his little habits of circumspection, and all fear of ridicule, is the best proof of his being quite in earnest--that all he said was from his heart.” “I doubt whether he has any heart,” said Beauclerc. “Poor man, he said----” Helen began, and then recollecting the words, ‘or I would make the offer,’ she stopped short, afraid of the construction they might bear, and then, ashamed of her fear, she coloured deeply. “Poor man, he said----” repeated Beauclerc, fixing his eyes upon her, “What did he say, may I ask?” “No,--” said Helen, “I am not sure that I distinctly heard or understood Mr. Churchill.” “Oh, if there was any mystery!” Beauclerc begged pardon.