at last dead.

Helen looked first at Cecilia, who, as she saw, heard what was said with
perfect composure; and then at Lady Davenant, who had meantime glanced
imperceptibly at her daughter, and then upon Helen, whose eyes she
met--and Helen coloured merely from association, because she had coloured
before-provoking! yet impossible to help it. All passed in less time than
it can be told, and Helen had left the guardsman in the midst of his
sentence, discomfited, and his eyes were now upon her; and in confusion she
turned from him, and there were the general's eyes but he was only inviting
her to taste some particular wine, which he thought she would like, and
which she willingly accepted, and praised, though she assuredly did not
know in the least what manner of taste it had. The general now exerted
himself to occupy the guardsman in a conversation about promotion, and drew
all observation from Helen. Yet not the slightest indication of having
seen, heard, or understood, appeared in his countenance, not the least
curiosity or interest about Colonel D'Aubigny. Of one point Helen was
however intuitively certain, that he had noticed that confusion which he
had so ably, so coolly covered. One ingenuous look from her thanked him,
and his look in return was most gratifying; she could not tell how it was,
but it appeared more as if he understood and liked her than any look she
had ever seen from him before. They were both more at their ease. Next day,
he certainly justified all Cecilia's former assurances, by the urgency with
which he desired to have her of the riding party. He put her on horseback
himself, bade the aide-de-camp ride on with Lady Cecilia--three several
times set the bridle right in Miss Stanley's hand, assuring her that she
need not be afraid, that Zelica was the gentlest creature possible, and he
kept his fiery horse, Fleetfoot, to a pace that suited her during the whole
time they were out. Helen took courage, and her ride did her a vast deal of
good.