When Mr. Beauclerc reappeared, Helen was glad that she was settled at an embroidery frame, at the furthest end of the room, as there, apart from the world, she felt safe from all cause for embarrassment, and there she continued happy till some one came to raise the light of the lamp over her head. It was Mr. Beauclerc, and, as she looked up, she gave a foolish little start of surprise, and then all her confusion returning, with thanks scarce audible, her eyes were instantly fixed on the vine leaf she was embroidering. He asked how she could by lamplight distinguish blue from green? a simple and not very alarming question, but she did not hear the words rightly, and thinking he asked whether she wished for a screen, she answered “No, thank you.” Lady Cecilia laughed, and covering Helen’s want of hearing by Beauclerc’s want of sight, explained--“Do not you see, Granville, the silk-cards are written upon, ‘blue’ and ‘green;’ there can be no mistake.” Mr. Beauclerc made a few more laudable attempts at conversation with Miss Stanley, but she, still imagining that this was forced, could not in return say anything but what seemed forced and unnatural, and as unlike her usual self as possible. Lady Cecilia tried to relieve her; she would have done better to have let it alone, for Beauclerc was not of the French wit’s opinion that, _La modestie n’est bonne qu’à quinze ans_, and to him it appeared only a graceful timidity. Helen retired earlier than any one else, and, when she thought over her foolish awkwardness, felt as much ashamed as if Mr. Beauclerc had actually heard all that Lady Cecilia had said about him--had seen all her thoughts, and understood the reason of her confusion. At last, when Lady Cecilia came into her room before she went to bed, she began with--“I am sure you are going to scold me, and I deserve it, I am so provoked with myself, and the worst of it is, that I do not think I shall ever get over it--I am afraid I shall be just as foolish again tomorrow.” “I could find it in my heart to scold you to death,” said Lady Cecilia, “but that I am vexed myself.” Then hesitating, and studying Helen’s countenance, she seemed doubtful how to proceed. Either she was playing with Helen’s curiosity, or she was really herself perplexed. She made two or three beginnings, each a little inconsistent with the other. “Mamma is always right; with her--‘coming events’ really and truly ‘cast their shadows before.’ I do believe she has the fatal gift, the coming ill to know!” “Ill!” said Helen; “what ill is coming?” “After all, however, it may not be an ill,” said Lady Cecilia; “it may be all for the best; yet I am shockingly disappointed, though I declare I never formed any--” “Oh, my dear Cecilia, do tell me at once what it is you mean.” “I mean, that Granville Beauclerc, like all men of genius, has acted like the greatest fool.” “What has he done?” “He is absolutely--you must look upon him in future--as a married man.”