“I left him at it when I went to the continent; and on my return, at the year’s end, I found him still a disconsolate bachelor⁠—though, certainly, looking somewhat less like an unblest exile from the tomb than before. The young ladies had ceased to be afraid of him, and were beginning to think him quite interesting; but the mammas were still unrelenting. It was about this time, Helen, that my good angel brought me into conjunction with you; and then I had eyes and ears for nobody else. But, meantime, Lowborough became acquainted with our charming friend, Miss Wilmot⁠—through the intervention of his good angel, no doubt he would tell you, though he did not dare to fix his hopes on one so courted and admired, till after they were brought into closer contact here at Staningley, and she, in the absence of her other admirers, indubitably courted his notice and held out every encouragement to his timid advances. Then, indeed, he began to hope for a dawn of brighter days; and if, for a while, I darkened his prospects by standing between him and his sun⁠—and so nearly plunged him again into the abyss of despair⁠—it only intensified his ardour and strengthened his hopes when I chose to abandon the field in the pursuit of a brighter treasure. In a word, as I told you, he is fairly besotted.

“I tell you, Helen, it would break his heart⁠—it would be the death of him⁠—besides being a scandalous trick to poor Annabella. There is no help for him now; he is past praying for. Besides, she may keep up the deception to the end of the chapter; and then he will be just as happy in the illusion as if it were reality; or perhaps he will only discover his mistake when he has ceased to love her; and if not, it is much better that the truth should dawn gradually upon him. So now, my angel, I hope I have made out a clear case, and fully convinced you that I cannot make the atonement you require. What other requisition have you to make? Speak, and I will gladly obey.”

“Thank you, my dear! And what besides do you hope?”

“I know, Rachel. I’ve heard all about him; but he’s reformed now. And they have no business to tell tales about their masters.”

“No, mum⁠—or else, they have said some things about Mr. Huntingdon too.”

“I won’t hear them, Rachel; they tell lies.”

“Yes, mum,” said she, quietly, as she went on arranging my hair.

“Do you believe them, Rachel?” I asked, after a short pause.

“No, Miss, not all. You know when a lot of servants gets together they like to talk about their betters; and some, for a bit of swagger, likes to make it appear as though they knew more than they do, and to throw out hints and things just to astonish the others. But I think, if I was you, Miss Helen, I’d look very well before I leaped. I do believe a young lady can’t be too careful who she marries.”

“Of course not,” said I; “but be quick, will you, Rachel? I want to be dressed.”

And, indeed, I was anxious to be rid of the good woman, for I was in such a melancholy frame I could hardly keep the tears out of my eyes while she dressed me. It was not for Lord Lowborough⁠—it was not for Annabella⁠—it was not for myself⁠—it was for Arthur Huntingdon that they rose.