“As soon as possible,” Cecilia answered in a voice not natural. And she came, but not as soon as possible--shut the door behind her, showing that she had not dismissed Felicie, and, with hair dishevelled, as if hastening back to her room, said, “I am in a hurry; the general ordered me to make haste, and not to be an hour undressing. “I will not keep you a moment,” said Helen. “I am in as great a hurry as you can be. Beauclerc is waiting for me.” “Waiting for you at this time of night! Oh! my dear, he cannot be standing there with his arms folded all this time.” Helen repeated what the general had said, and ended with, “I am determined to return.” “No no,” Lady Cecilia said. The general could not advise her going back at this time of night. And with rapidity and confusion, she poured out a multitude of dissuasive arguments, some contradicting the others. “At this time of night! The world is not gone, and Beauclerc is in the midst of them by this time, you may be sure. You don’t think he is standing alone there all this time. You could not speak to him before all the world--don’t attempt it. You would only expose yourself. You would make a scene at last--undo all, and come to disgrace, and ruin me and yourself. I know you would, Helen. And if you were to send for him--into the library--alone! the servants would know it--and the company gone! And after all, for you, my dear, to make the first advance to reconciliation! If he is angry--I don’t think that would be quite--dignified; quite like you, Helen.” “The general thinks it right, and I am sure he would not advise any thing improper--undignified. It does not signify, Cecilia, I am determined--I will go.” Trembling, she grew absolutely desperate from fear. “I am afraid you have forgot your promise, Cecilia; you said that if I could bear it for one hour, it would be over. Did you not promise me that if any difficulty came between me and----” She stopped short. She had felt indignant; but when she looked at Cecilia, and saw her tears, she could not go on. “Oh Helen!” cried Cecilia, “I do not ask you to pity me. You cannot know what I suffer--you are innocent--and I have done so wrong! You cannot pity me.” “I do, I do,” cried Helen, “from the bottom of my heart. Only trust me, dear Cecilia; let me go down----” Lady Cecilia sprang between her and the door. “Hear Me! hear me, Helen! Do not go to-night, and, cost what it will--cost me what it may, since it has come to this between you, I will confess all this night--I will tell all to the general, and clear you with him and with Granville. What more can you ask?--what more can I do, Helen? And will you go?” “No no, my dear Cecilia. Since you promise me this, I will not go now.” “Be satisfied then, and rest--for me there is no rest;” so saying Cecilia slowly left the room. Helen could not sleep: this was the second wretched night she had passed in that most miserable of all uncertainty--whether she was right or wrong.