“Only write a line to Beauclerc--say, ‘Beauclerc come back,--here has been a mistake.’” She would have put a pen into his hand, and held paper to him. “Let me know the whole, and then, and not till then, can I judge whether I should be doing right for her or not.” The difficulty of telling the whole had increased to Lady Cecilia, even from the hesitation and prevarication she had now made. “Let me see Helen,--let me speak to her myself, and learn what this strange nonsensical mystery is.” He was getting impatient. “Cannot I see Miss Stanley?” “Why no, my dear love, not just now, she has such a headache! She is lying down. There is the breakfast-bell--after breakfast, if you please. But I am clear she would rather not speak to you herself on the subject.” “Then come down to breakfast, my dear, and let her settle it her own way--that is much the best plan. Interference in love matters always does mischief. Come to breakfast, my dear--I have no time to lose--I must be off to a court-martial.” He looked at his watch, and Cecilia went half down stairs with him, and then ran back to keep Helen quiet by the assurance that all would be settled--all would be right, and that she would send her up some breakfast--she must not think of coming down; and Cecilia lamented half breakfast-time--how subject to headaches poor Helen was; and through this and through all other conversation she settled what she would do for her. As the last resource, she would tell the whole truth--not to her husband, she loved him too well to face his displeasure for one moment--but to Beauclerc; and writing would be so much easier than speaking--without being put to the blush she could explain it all to Beauclerc, and turn it playfully; and he would be so happy that he would be only too glad to forgive her, and to do anything she asked. She concocted and wrote a very pretty letter, in which she took all the blame fully on herself--did perfect justice to Helen; said she wrote without her knowledge, and depended entirely upon his discretion, so he must come back of his own accord, and keep her counsel. This letter, however, she could not despatch so soon as she had expected; she could not send a servant with it till the general should be off to his court-martial. Now had Cecilia gone the straight-forward way to work, her husband could in that interval, and would, have set all to rights; but this to Cecilia was impossible; she could only wait in an agony of impatience till the general and his officers were all out of the way, and then she despatched a groom with her letter to Old Forest, and desired him to return as fast as possible, while she went to Helen’s room, to while away the time of anxious suspense as well as she could; and she soon succeeded in talking herself into excellent spirits again. “Now, my dear Helen, if that unlucky mistake had not been made,--if you had not fancied that Granville was married already,--and if he had