Upon perusing this, she turned scarlet and bit her lip. Covertly tearing away the leaf, she crumpled it up and put it in the fire, and then employed herself in turning over the pages of the book and, really or apparently, perusing its contents. In a little while Milicent announced it her intention to repair to the nursery, and asked if I would accompany her.
`Annabella will excuse us,' said she, `she's busy reading.'
`No, I won't,' cried Annabella, suddenly looking-up and throwing her book on the table. `I want to speak to Helen a minute. You may go Milicent, and she'll follow in a while.' (Milicent went.) `Will you oblige me, Helen?' continued she.
Her impudence astounded me; but I complied, and followed her into the library. She closed the door, and walked up to the fire.
`Who fold you this?' said she.
`No one: I am not incapable of seeing for myself.'
`Ah, you are suspicious!' cried she, smiling with a' gleam of hop-- hitherto, there had been a kind of desperation in her hardihood; now she was evidently relieved.
`if I were suspicious,' I replied, `I should have discovered your infamy long before. No, Lady Lowborough, I do not found my charge upon suspicion.'
`On what do you found it then?' said she, throwing herself into an arm-chair, and stretching out her feet to the fender, with an obvious effort to appear composed.
`I enjoy a moonlight ramble as well as you,' I answered, steadily fixing my eyes upon her: `and the shrubbery happens to be one of my favourite resorts.
She coloured again, excessively, and remained silent, pressing her finger against her teeth, and gazing into the fire. I watched her a few moments with a feeling of malevolent gratification; then, moving towards the door, I calmly asked if she had anything more to say.
`Yes, yes!' cried she eagerly, starting up from her reclining posture. `I want to know if you will tell Lord Lowborough?'
`Suppose I do?'
`Well, if you are disposed to publish the matter, I cannot dissuade you, of course--but there will be terrible work if you do--and if you don't, I shall think you the most generous of mortal beings--and if there is anything in the world I can do for you--anything short of--' she hesitated.
`Short of renouncing your guilty connection with my husband, I suppose you mean, said I.
She paused, in evident disconcertion and perplexity, mingled with anger she dared not show.
`I cannot renounce what is dearer than life,' she muttered in a low, hurried tone. Then, suddenly raising her head and fixing her gleaming eyes upon me, she continued earnestly, `But Helen--or Mrs. Huntingdon, or whatever you would have me call you--will you tell him? If you are generous, here is a fitting opportunity for the exercise of your magnanimity: if you are proud, here am I--your rival--ready to acknowledge myself your debtor for an act of the most noble forbearance.'
`I shall not tell him.'
`You will not!' cried she delightedly. `Accept my sincere thanks, then!'
She sprang up, and offered me her hand. I drew back.
`Give me no thanks; it is not for your sake that I refrain. Neither is it an act of any forbearance: I have no wish to publish your shame.
I should be sorry to distress your husband with the knowledge of it.'
`And Milicent? will you tell her?'
`No, on the contrary I shall do my utmost to conceal it from her.
I would not for much that she should know the infamy and disgrace of her relation!'
`You use hard words, Mrs. Huntingdon--but I can pardon you.'
`And now Lady Lowborough,' continued I, `let me counsel you to leave this house as soon as possible. You must be aware that your continuance here is excessively disagreeable to me--not for Mr. Huntingdon's sake,' said I, observing the dawn of a malicious smile of triumph on her face--'you are welcome to him, if you like him, as far as I am concerned--but because it is painful to be always disguising my true sentiments respecting you, and straining to keep up an appearance of civility and respect towards one for whom I have not the most distant shadow of esteem; and because, if you stay, your conduct cannot possibly remain concealed much longer from the only two persons in the house who do not know it already. And, for your husband's sake, Annabella, and even for your own, I wish--I earnestly advise and entreat you to break off this unlawful connection at once, and return to your duty while you may, before the dreadful consequences--'
`Yes, yes, of course,' said she, interrupting me with a gesture of impatience.--'But I cannot go, Helen, before the time appointed for our departure. What possible pretext could I frame for such a thing? Whether I proposed going back alone--which Lowborough would not hear of--or taking him with me, the very circumstance itself, would be certain to excite suspicion--and when our visit is so nearly at an end too-little more than a week--surely, you can endure my presence so long! I will not annoy you with any more of my friendly impertinences.'
`Well! I have nothing more to say to you.'
`Have you mentioned this affair to Huntingdon?' asked she, as I was leaving the room.
`How dare you mention his name to me!' was the only answer I gave.
No words have passed between us since, but such as outward decency or pure necessity demanded.
