“My dear Cecilia, do not play with me now--do not stop me,” said Helen anxiously. “It is serious with me now, and it is as much as I can do----” Cecilia let her go, but trembled for her, as she looked after her, and saw her stop at her mother’s door. Helen’s first knock was too low, it was unheard, she was obliged to wait; another, louder, was answered by, “Come in.” And in the presence she stood, and into the middle of things she rushed at once; the accounts, the total, lay before Lady Davenant. There it was: and the culprit, having made her confession, stood waiting for the sentence. The first astonished change of look, was certainly difficult to sustain. “I ought to have foreseen this,” said Lady Davenant; “my affection has deceived my judgment. Helen, I am sorry for your sake, and for my own.” “Oh do not speak in that dreadful calm voice, as if--do not give me up at once,” cried Helen. “What can I do for you? what can be done for one who has no strength of mind?” I have some, thought Helen, or I should not be here at this moment. “Of what avail, Helen, is your good heart--your good intentions, without the power to abide by them? When you can be drawn aside from the right by the first paltry temptation--by that most contemptible of passions--the passion for baubles! You tell me it was not that, what then? a few words of persuasion from any one who can smile, and fondle, and tell you that they love you;--the fear of offending Cecilia! how absurd! Is this what you both call friendship? But weaker still, Helen, I perceive that you have been led blindfold in extravagance by a prating French waiting-maid--to the brink of ruin, the very verge of dishonesty.” “Dishonesty! how?” “Ask yourself, Helen: is a person honest, who orders and takes from the owner that for which he cannot pay? Answer me, honest or dishonest.” “Dishonest! if I had intended not to pay. But I did intend to pay, and I will.” “You will! The weak have no will--never dare to say I will. Tell me how you will pay that which you owe. You have no means--no choice, except to take from the fund you have already willed to another purpose. See what good intentions, come to, Helen, when you cannot abide by them!” “But I can,” cried Helen; “whatever else I do, I will not touch that fund, destined for my dear uncle--I have not touched it. I could pay it in two years, and I will--I will give up my whole allowance.” “And what will you live upon in the mean time?” “I should not have said my whole allowance, but I can do with very little, I will buy nothing new.” “Buy nothing--live upon nothing!” repeated Lady Davenant; “how often have I heard these words said by the most improvident, in the moment of repentance, even then as blind and uncalculating as ever! And you, Helen, talk to me of your powers of forbearance,--you, who, with the strongest motive your heart could feel, have not been able for a few short months to resist the most foolish--the most useless fancies.”