Helen was delighted. Cecilia could form no farther schemes on her account, and she felt relieved from all her awkwardness. “Dearest Helen, this is well at all events,” cried Cecilia, seeing her cleared countenance. “This comforts me; you are at ease; and, if I have caused you one uncomfortable evening, I am sure you are consoled for it by the reflection that my mother was right, and I, as usual, wrong. But, Helen,” continued she earnestly, “remember that this is not to be known; remember you must not breathe the least hint of what I have told you to mamma or the general.” Something more than astonishment appeared in Helen’s countenance. “And is it possible that Mr. Beauclerc does not tell them,--does not trust his guardian and such a friend as your mother?” said Helen. “He will tell them, he will tell them--but not yet; perhaps not till--he is not to see his fiancée--they have for some reason agreed to be separated for some time--I do not know exactly, but surely every body may choose their own opportunity for telling their own secrets. In fact, Helen, the lady, I understand, made it a point with him that nothing should be said of it yet--to any one.” “But he told it to you?” “No, indeed, he did not tell it; I found it out, and he could not deny it; but he charged me to keep it secret, and I would not have told it to any body living but yourself; and to you, after all I said about him, I felt it was necessary--thought I was bound--in short, I thought it would set things to rights, and put you at your ease at once.” And then, with more earnestness, she again pressed upon Helen a promise of secrecy, especially towards Lady Davenant. Helen submitted. Cecilia embraced her affectionately, and left the room. Quite tired, and quite happy, Helen was in bed and asleep in a few minutes. Not the slightest suspicion crossed her mind that all her friend had been telling her was not perfectly true. To a more practised, a less confiding, person the perplexity of Lady Cecilia’s prefaces, and some contradictions or inconsistencies, might have suggested doubts; but Helen’s general confidence in her friend’s truth had never yet been seriously shaken. Lady Davenant she had always thought prejudiced on this point, and too severe. If there had been in early childhood a bad habit of inaccuracy in Cecilia, Helen thought it long since cured; and so perhaps it was, till she formed a friendship abroad with one who had no respect for truth.