“You are fond of this young man, I see general,” said Lord Davenant. “But not of his fault.” Lady Cecilia said something about forgiving a first fault. “Never!” said Lady Davenant. “Lord Collingwood’s rule was--never forgive a first fault, and you will not have a second. You love Beauclerc, I see, as Lord Davenant says.” “Love him!” resumed the general; “with all his faults and follies, I love him as if he were my brother.” At which words Lady Cecilia, with a scarcely perceptible smile, cast a furtive glance at Helen. The general called for his horses, and, followed by his aide-de-camp, departed, saying that he should be back at luncheon-time, when he hoped to find Beauclerc. In the same hope, Lady Davenant ordered her pony-phaeton earlier than usual; Lady Cecilia further hoped most earnestly that Beauclerc would come this day, for the next the house would be full of company, and she really wished to have him one day at least to themselves, and she gave a most significant glance at Helen. “The first move often secures the game against the best players,” said she. Helen blushed, because she could not help understanding; she was ashamed, vexed with Cecilia, yet pleased by her kindness, and half amused by her arch look and tone. They were neither of them aware that Lady Davenant had heard the words that passed, or seen the looks; but immediately afterwards, when they were leaving the breakfast-room, Lady Davenant came between the two friends, laid her hand upon her daughter’s arm, and said, “Before you make any move in a dangerous game, listen to the voice of old experience.” Lady Cecilia startled, looked up, but as if she did not comprehend. “Cupid’s bow, my dear,” continued her mother, “is, as the Asiatics tell us, strung with bees, which are apt to sting--sometimes fatally--those who meddle with it.” Lady Cecilia still looked with an innocent air, and still as if she could not comprehend. “To speak more plainly, then, Cecilia,” said her mother, “build no matrimonial castles in the air; standing or falling they do mischief--mischief either to the builder, or to those for whom they may be built.” “Certainly if they fall they disappoint one,” said Lady Cecilia, “but if they stand?” Seeing that she made no impression on her daughter, Lady Davenant turned to Helen, and gravely said,-- “My dear Helen, do not let my daughter inspire you with false, and perhaps vain imaginations, certainly premature, therefore unbecoming.” Helen shrunk back, yet instantly looked up, and her look was ingenuously grateful. “But, mamma,” said Lady Cecilia, “I declare I do not understand what all this is about.” “About Mr. Granville Beauclerc,” said her mother. “How can you, dear mamma, pronounce his name so _tout an long?_”