Here the countess came to a full pause; and poor Helen, finding herself
called upon for some reply to this chilling speech, stammered out, scarce
audibly,

"Certainly, madam, I never dreamed of--"

"That is right, my dear," interrupted Lady Lansmere, rising suddenly, and
as if greatly relieved. "I could not doubt your superiority to ordinary
girls of your age, with whom these matters are never secret for a moment.
Therefore, of course, you will not mention, at present, what has passed
between you and Harley, to any of the friends with whom you may
correspond."

"I have no correspondents, no friends, Lady Lansmere," said Helen,
deprecatingly, and trying hard not to cry.

"I am very glad to hear it, my dear; young ladies never should have.
Friends, especially friends who correspond, are the worst enemies they
can have. Good-night, Miss Digby. I need not add, by the way, that
though we are bound to show all kindness to this young Italian lady,
still she is wholly unconnected with our family; and you will be as
prudent with her as you would have been with your correspondents, had you
had the misfortune to have any."

Lady Lansmere said the last words with a smile, and left an ungenial kiss
(the stepmother's kiss) on Helen's bended brow. She then left the room,
and Helen sat on the seat vacated by the stately, unloving form, and
again covered her face with her hands, and again wept. But when she rose
at last, and the light fell upon her face, that soft face was sad indeed,
but serene,--serene, as with some inward sense of duty, sad, as with the