Half vexed, half smiling, Helen looked at Cecilia, and asked whether all
she had told her was not a little--"_plus belle que la verite._"

Lady Cecilia, blushing slightly, poured out rapid protestations that
all she had ever repeated to Helen of the general's sayings was perfect
truth--"I will not swear to the words--because in the first place it is
not pretty to swear, and next, because I can never recollect anybody's
words, or my own, five minutes after they have been said."

Partly by playfulness, and partly by protestations, Lady Cecilia half
convinced Helen; but from this time she refrained from repeating
compliments which, true or false, did no good, and things went on better;
observing this, she left them to their natural course, upon all such
occasions the best way.

And now visitors began to appear, and some officers of the general's staff
arrived. Clarendon Park happened to be in the district which General
Clarendon commanded, so that he was able usually to reside there. It was in
what is called a good neighbourhood, and there was much visiting, and many
entertainments.

One day at dinner, Helen was seated between the general and a fine young
guardsman, who, as far as his deep sense of his own merit, and his
fashionable indifference to young ladies would permit, had made some
demonstrations of a desire to attract her notice. He was piqued when,
in the midst of something he had wonderfully exerted himself to say, he
observed that her attention was distracted by a gentleman opposite, who
had just returned from the Continent, and who, among other pieces of news,
marriages and deaths of English abroad, mentioned that "poor D'Aubigny" was