She clasped her hands over her eyes for a moment, and then lifted her
face, and the face was very sad, but very calm.

VIOLANTE (twining her arm round Helen's waist).--"How have I wounded
you,--how offended? Forgive me, but why is this wicked? Why must it not
be? Is it because he is below you in birth?"

HELEN.--"No, no,--I never thought of that. And what am I? Don't ask
me,--I cannot answer. You are wrong, quite wrong as to me. I can only
look on Leonard as--as a brother. But--but, you can speak to him more
freely than I can. I would not have him waste his heart on me, nor yet
think me unkind and distant, as I seem. I know not what I say. But--
but--break to him--indirectly--gently--that duty in both forbids us both
to--to be more than friends--than--"

"Helen, Helen!" cried Violante, in her warm, generous passion, "your
heart betrays you in every word you say. You weep; lean on me, whisper
to me; why--why is this? Do you fear that your guardian would not
consent? He not consent? He who--"

HELEN.--"Cease--cease--cease!"

VIOLANTE.--"What! You can fear Harley--Lord L'Estrange? Fie; you do
not know him."

HELEN (rising suddenly).--"Violante, hold; I am engaged to another."

Violante rose also, and stood still, as if turned to stone; pale as
death, till the blood came, at first slowly, then with suddenness from
her heart, and one deep glow suffused her whole countenance. She caught