and the expression of disappointment in her countenance--were, as marks of
strong affection, deeply gratifying to Helen. Lady Davenant went on.

"Was not Cecilhurst always a home to you, Helen Stanley?"

"Yes, yes,--always a most happy home!"

"Then why is not Cecilhurst to be your home?"

"My dear Lady Davenant! how kind!--how very, very kind of you to wish
it--but I never thought of----"

"And why did you not think of it, Helen?'"

"I mean--I thought you were going to Russia."

"And have you settled, my dear Helen," said Lady Davenant, smiling, "have
you settled that I am never to come back from Russia? Do not you know
that you are--that you ever were--you ever will be to me a daughter?" and
drawing Helen fondly towards her, she added, "as my own very dear--I must
not say dearest child,--must not, because as I well remember once--little
creature as you were then---you whispered to me, 'Never call me
dearest,'--generous-hearted child!" And tears started into her eyes as she
spoke; but at that moment came a knock at the door. "A packet from Lord
Davenant, by Mr. Mapletofft, my lady." Helen rose to leave the room, but
Lady Davenant laid a detaining hand upon her, saying, "You will not be in
my way in the least;" and she opened her packet, adding, that while she
read, Helen might amuse herself "with arranging the books on that table, or
in looking over the letters in that portfolio."