And if she had done so, all might have been well; but she was afraid. Her husband was as exact about _some things_ as her mother; he would certainly be displeased at the deception she had practised on Helen; she could not tell him that, not at this moment, for she had just fooled him to the top of his bent about this visit; she would find a better time; she so dreaded the instant change of his smile--the look of disapprobation; she was so cowardly; in short, the present pain of displeasing--the consequences even of her own folly, she never could endure, and to avoid it she had always recourse to some new evasion; and now, when Helen--her dear Helen’s happiness, was at stake, she faltered--she paltered--she would not for the world do her any wrong; but still she thought she could manage without telling the whole--she would tell nothing _but_ the truth. So, after a moment’s hesitation, while all these thoughts went through her mind, when the general repeated his question, and begged to know at once what was passing in her little head; she smiled in return for that smile which played on her husband’s face while he fondly looked upon her, and she answered, “I am thinking of poor Helen. She has made a sad mistake--and has a horrid headache at this moment--in short she has offended Beauclerc past endurance--past his endurance--and he went off in a passion before she found out her mistake. In short, we must have him back again; could you go, my dear love--or write directly?” “First let me understand,” said the general. “Miss Stanley has made a mistake--what mistake?” “She thought Beauclerc was engaged to Lady Blanche.” “How could she think so? What reason had she?” “She had been told so by somebody.” “Somebody!--that eternal scandal-monger Lady Katrine, I suppose.” “No--not Lady Katrine,” said Cecilia; “but I am not at liberty to tell you whom.” “No matter; but Miss Stanley is not a fool; she could not believe somebody or anybody, contrary to common sense.” “No, but Beauclerc did not come quite to proposing--and you know she had been blamed for refusing Mr. Churchill before she was asked--and in short--in love, people do not always know what they are about.” “I do not understand one word of it,” said the general; “nor I am sure do you, my dear Cecilia.” “Yes, I really do, but----” “My dear Cecilia, I assure you it is always best to let people settle their love affairs their own way.” “Yes, certainly--I would not interfere in the least--only to get Granville back again--and then let them settle it their own way. Cannot you call at Old Forest?” “No.” “Could you not write?” “No--not unless I know the whole. I will do nothing in the dark. Always tell your confessor, your lawyer, your physician, your friend, your whole case, or they are fools or rogues if they act for you; go back and repeat this to Helen Stanley from me.” “But, my dear, she will think it so unkind.” “Let her show me how I can serve her, and I will do it.”