“The only service, General Clarendon,” said Helen, her manner becoming composed, and her voice steadying as she went on--“the only service you can do me now is to tell me the plain truth, and this will prevent what would certainly be a misfortune to me--perhaps to all of us. Will you read this letter?” He received it with an air of great interest, and again moved the chair to her. Before she sat down, she added,-- “I am unused to the world, you see, General Clarendon. I have been accustomed to live with one who always told me his mind sincerely, so that I could judge always what I ought to do. Will you do so now? It is the greatest service, as well as favour, you can do me.” “Depend upon it, I will,” said General Clarendon. “I should not ask you to tell me in words--that might be painful to your politeness; only let me see it,” said Helen, and she sat down. The general read on without speaking, till he came to the mention of Helen’s original promise of living with the Collingwoods. He did not comprehend that passage, he said, showing it to her. He had always, on the contrary, understood that it had been a long _settled_ thing, a promise between Miss Stanley and Lady Cecilia, that Helen should live with Lady Cecilia when she married. “No such thing!” Helen said. “No such agreement had ever been made.” So the general now perceived; but this was a mistake of his which he hoped would make no difference in her arrangements, he said: “Why should it?--unless Miss Stanley felt unhappy at Clarendon Park?” He paused, and Helen was silent: then, taking desperate resolution, she answered,-- “I should be perfectly happy here, if I were sure of your wishes, your feelings about me--about it.” “Is it possible that there has been any thing in my manner,” said he, “that could give Miss Stanley pain? What could have put a doubt into her mind?” “There might be some other person nearer, and naturally dearer to you,” said Helen, looking up in his face ingenuously--“one whom you might have desired to have in my place:--your sister, Miss Clarendon, in short.” “Did Cecilia tell you of this?” “No, Lady Davenant did; and since I heard it I never could be happy--I never can be happy till I know your feeling.” His manner instantly changed. “You shall know my feelings, then,” said he. “Till I knew you, Helen, my wish was, that my sister should live with my wife; now I know you, my wish is, that you should live with us. You will suit Cecilia better than my sister could--will suit us both better, having the same truth of character, and more gentleness of manner. I have answered you with frankness equal to your own. And now,” said he, taking her hand, “you know Cecilia has always considered you as her sister--allow me to do the same: consider me as a brother--such you shall find me. Thank you. This is settled for life,” added he, drawing her arm through his, and taking up her letters, he led her back towards the library.