“Well! when you were at dinner, it came into my poor head that the general would open that parcel before I could see you again, and before I could ask your advice and settle with you--before I could know what was to be done. I was so anxious, I sent for you twice.” “But Lady Davenant and the general forbade me to go to you.” “Yes,”--Lady Cecilia said she understood that, and she had seen the danger of showing too much impatience to speak to Helen; she thought it might excite suspicion of her having something particular to say, she had therefore refrained from asking again. She was not asleep when Helen came to bed, though Felicie thought she was; she was much too anxious to sleep till she had seen her husband again; she was awake when he came into his room; she saw him come in with some letters and packets in his hand; by his look she knew all was still safe--he had not opened _that_ particular packet--he held it among a parcel of military returns in his hand as he came to the side of the bed on tiptoe to see if she was asleep--to ask how she did; “He touched my pulse,” said Lady Cecilia,--“and I am sure he might well say it was terribly quick. “Every instant I thought he would open that packet. He threw it, however, and all the rest, down on the table, to be read in the morning, as usual, as soon as he awoke. After feeling my pulse again, the last thing, and satisfying himself that it was better--‘Quieter now,’ said he, he fell fast asleep, and slept so soundly, and I--” Helen looked at her with astonishment, and was silent. “Oh speak to me!” said Lady Cecilia, “what do you say, Helen?” “I say that I cannot imagine why you are so much alarmed about this packet.” “Because I am a fool, I believe,” said Lady Cecilia, trying to laugh. “I am so afraid of his opening it.” “But why?” said Helen, “what do you think there is in it?” “I have told you, surely! Letters--foolish letters of mine to that D’Aubigny. Oh how I repent I ever wrote a line to him! And he told me, he absolutely swore, he had destroyed every note and letter I ever wrote to him. He was the most false of human beings!” “He was a very bad man--I always thought so,” said Helen; “but, Cecilia, I never knew that he had any letters of yours.” “Oh yes, you did, my dear, at the time; do not you recollect I showed you a letter, and it was you who made me break off the correspondence?” “I remember your showing me several letters of his,” said Helen, “but not of yours--only one or two notes--asking for that picture back again which he had stolen from your portfolio.” “Yes, and about the verses; surely you recollect my showing you another letter of mine, Helen!”