“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!” CHAPTER XII. Sir Benjamin and Lady Bearcroft departed at six o’clock the next morning, and all the rest of the political and diplomatic corps _left_ 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.