"Then, my dear Helen, do not break my embroidery silk; that jerk was
imprudent, and trust me, my dear, the screw of that silk winder is not so
much to blame as you would have me think; take patience with yourself and
with me. There is no great harm done, no unbearable imputation, you are not
accused of loving or liking, only of having been admired." "Never!" cried
Helen.

"Well, well! it does not signify in the least now; the man is either dying
or dead."

"I am glad of it," cried Helen.

"How barbarous!" said Lady Davenant, "but let it pass, I am neither glad
nor sorry; contempt is more dignified and safer than hatred, my dear.

"Now to return to Cecilia; soon after, I will not say the D'Aubigny era,
but soon after you left us, I fell sick, Cecilia was excessively kind to
me. In kindness her affectionate heart never failed, and I felt this
the more, from a consciousness that I had been a little harsh to her. I
recovered but slowly; I could not bear to have her confined so long in a
sick room, and yet I did not much like either of the chaperons with
whom she went out, though they were both of rank, and of unimpeachable
character--the one English, one of the best women in the world, but the
most stupid; the other a foreigner, one of the most agreeable women in the
world, but the most false. I prevailed on Cecilia to break off that--I do
not know what to call it, friendship it was not, and my daughter and I drew
nearer together. Better times began to dawn, but still there was little
sympathy between us; my mind was intent on Lord Davenant's interests, hers
on amusement and admiration. Her conquests were numerous, and she gloried
in their number, for, between you and me, Cecilia was, before the