eyes were anxiously upon her, drew her arm within hers, and hurried her out
of the room. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, gathered up the folds
of her riding-dress, and turning suddenly to Helen, said,--

"Helen, my dear, you must not think _that_"----

"Think what?" said Helen.

"Think _that_--for which you are now blushing. Oh, you know what I mean!
Helen, your thoughts are just as legible in your face, as they always were
to me. His manner is reserved--cold, may be--but not his heart. Understand
this, pray--once for all. Do you? will you, dearest Helen?"

"I do, I will," cried Helen; and every minute she felt that she better
understood and was more perfectly pleased with her friend. Lady Cecilia
showed her through the apartment destined for her, which she had taken
the greatest pleasure in arranging; everything there was not only most
comfortable, but particularly to her taste; and some little delicate proofs
of affection, recollections of childhood, were there;--keepsakes, early
drawings, nonsensical things, not worth preserving, but still preserved.

"Look how near we are together," said Cecilia, opening a door into her own
dressing-room. "You may shut this up whenever you please, but I hope you
will never please to do so. You see how I leave you your own free will, as
friends usually do, with a proviso, a hope at least, that you are never to
use it on any account--like the child's half guinea pocket-money, never to
be changed." Her playful tone relieved, as she intended it should, Helen's
too keen emotion; and this too was felt with the quickness with which every
touch of kindness ever was felt by her. Helen pressed her friend's hand,
and smiled without speaking.