“It is Mr. Beauclerc’s own affair,” said Lady Davenant, wrapping her shawl round her; and, taking the general’s arm, she walked on to her carriage. Seating herself, and gathering up the reins, she repeated--“Mr. Beauclerc’s own affair, completely.” The lash of her whip was caught somewhere, and, while the groom was disentangling it, she reiterated--“That will do: let the horses go:”--and with half-suppressed impatience thanked Helen, who was endeavouring to arrange some ill-disposed cloak--“Thank you, thank you, my dear: it’s all very well. Sit down, Helen.” She drove off rapidly, through the beautiful park scenery But the ancient oaks, standing alone, casting vast shadows, the distant massive woods of magnificent extent and of soft and varied foliage; the secluded glades, all were lost upon her. Looking straight between her horses’ ears, she drove on in absolute silence. Helen’s idea of Mr. Beauclerc’s importance increased wonderfully. What must he be whose coming or not coming could so move all the world, or those who were all the world to her? And, left to her own cogitations, she was picturing to herself what manner of man he might be, when suddenly Lady Davenant turned, and asked what she was thinking of? “I beg your pardon for startling you so, my dear; I am aware that it is a dreadfully imprudent, impertinent question--one which, indeed, I seldom ask. Few interest me sufficiently to make me care of what they think: from fewer still could I expect to hear the truth. Nay--nothing upon compulsion, Helen. Only say plainly, if you would rather not tell me. That answer I should prefer to the ingenious formula of evasion, the solecism in metaphysics, which Cecilia used the other day, when unwittingly I asked her of what she was thinking--‘Of a great many different things, mamma.’” Helen, still more alarmed by Lady Davenant’s speech than by her question, and aware of the conclusions which might be drawn from her answer, nevertheless bravely replied that she had been thinking of Mr. Beauclerc, of what he might be whose coming or not coming was of such consequence. As she spoke the expression of Lady Davenant’s countenance changed. “Thank you, my dear child, you are truth itself, and truly do I love you therefore. It’s well that you did not ask me of what I was thinking, for I am not sure that I could have answered so directly.” “But I could never have presumed to ask such a question of you,” said Helen, “there is such a difference.” “Yes,” replied Lady Davenant; “there is such a difference as age and authority require to be made, but nevertheless, such as is not quite consistent with the equal rights of friendship. You have told me the subject of your day-dream, my love, and if you please, I will tell you the subject of mine. I was rapt into times long past: I was living over again some early scenes--some which are connected, and which connect me, in a curious manner, with this young man, Mr. Granville Beauclerc.”