Helen followed Lady Cecilia’s suggestion, and took as little notice as possible of what had happened. Elliott disappeared as she entered--the page was waiting at the door, but to Helen’s satisfaction Lady Davenant did not admit him. “Not yet; tell him I will ring when I want him,” said she. The door closed: and Lady Davenant, turning to Helen, said, “Whether I live or die is a point of some consequence to the friends who love me; but there is another question, Helen, of far more importance to me, and, I trust, to them. That question is, whether I continue to live as I have lived, honoured and respected, or live and die dishonoured and despised,”--her eye glanced towards the letter she had been reading. “My poor child,” continued Lady Davenant, looking at Helen’s agitated countenance,--“My poor child, I will not keep you in suspense.” She then told Helen that she was suspected of having revealed a secret of state that had been confided to her husband, and which it was supposed, and truly supposed, that Lord Davenant had told to her. Beyond its political importance, the disclosure involved a charge of baseness, in her having betrayed confidence, having suffered a copy of a letter from an illustrious personage to be handed about and read by several people. “Lord Davenant as yet knows nothing of this, the effect upon him is what I most dread. I cannot show you this,” continued she, opening again the letter she had just received, “because it concerns others as well as myself. I am, at all events, under obligations that can never be forgotten to the person who gave me this timely notice, which could no otherwise have reached me, and the person to whom I am thus obliged is one, Helen, whom neither you nor I like, and whom Cecilia particularly dislikes--Miss Clarendon! Her manner of doing me this service is characteristic: she begins, “‘Miss Clarendon is aware that Lady Davenant has no liking for her, but that shall not prevent Miss Clarendon from doing what she thinks an act of justice towards a noble character falsely attacked.’”--Lady Davenant read no more. “Had not you better wait till you are stronger, my dear Lady Davenant!” said Helen, seeing her prepare to write. “It was once said, gloriously well,” replied Lady Davenant, “that the duties of life are more than life itself--so I think.” While she wrote, Helen thought of what she had just heard, and she ventured to interrupt Lady Davenant to ask if she had formed any idea of the means by which the secret could have been betrayed--or the copy of the letter obtained.