Helen was silent for a second or two; and then, as if having collected all her energy, she said: “I would that you had spared me--had spared yourself--the pain I now must give us both; but to be silent longer would be to encourage deception.” It was not till after another brief interval that she could continue: “Soon after you left this, my Lord, you wrote a letter to Miss Daly. This letter-I stop not now to ask with what propriety towards either of us--she left in my hands. I read it carefully; and if many of the sentiments it contained served to elevate your character in my esteem, I saw enough to show me that your resolves were scarcely less instigated by outraged pride than what you fancied to be a tender feeling. This perhaps might have wounded me, had I felt differently towards you. As it was, I thought it for the best; I deemed it happier that your motives should be divided ones, even though you knew it not. But as I read on, my Lord,--as I perused the account of your interview with Lady Wallincourt,--then a new light broke suddenly upon me; I found what, had I known more of life, should not have surprised, but what in my ignorance did indeed astonish me, that my father's station was regarded as one which could be alleged as a reason against your feeling towards his daughter. Now, my Lord, _we_ have our pride too; and had your influence over me been all that ever you wished it, I tell you freely that I never would permit my affection to be gratified at the price of an insult to my father's house. If I were to say that your sentiments towards me should not have suffered it, would it be too much?” “But, dearest Helen, remember that I am no longer dependent on my mother's will,--remember that I stand in a position and a rank which only needs you to share with me to make it all that my loftiest ambition ever coveted.” “These are, forgive me if I tell you, very selfish reasonings, my Lord. They may apply to _you_; they hardly address themselves to _my_ position. The pride which could not stoop to ally itself with our house in our days of prosperity, should not assuredly be wounded by suing us in our humbler fortunes.” “Your thoughts dwell on Lady Netherby, Miss Darcy,” said Forester, irritably; “she is scarcely the person most to be considered here.” “Enough for me, if I think so,” said Helen, haughtily. “The lady your Lordship's condescension would place in the position of a mother should at least be able to regard me with other feelings than those of compassionate endurance. In a word, sir, it cannot be. To discuss the topic longer is but to distress us both. Leave me to my gratitude to you, which is unbounded. Let me dwell upon the many traits of noble heroism I can think of in your character with enthusiasm, ay, and with pride,--pride that one so high and so gifted should have ever thought of one so little worthy of him. But do not weaken my principle by hoping that my affection can be won at the cost of my self-esteem.”