"No, indeed, I cannot imagine the point on which I should be capable of advising you."
"Oh, what a relief! I was afraid you were condemning me all this time; that you thought it so strange I had let him come."
"Let who come, where?" said Helen. "Pray remember the seclusion in which we have been living; and have pity on my ignorance."
"Oh, yes! I forgot, you lost all the end of last season; but you must have heard—in fact, you must have seen yesterday, how it was—Ernest! Helen, do you think that I was wrong in asking him to come here?"
"Certainly not; we always expected him this week. He had promised to come when"
"Yes, yes; but, my love, you must know (this is of course in the strictest confidence); but you must see that Ernest is desperately smitten with me. It is almost ludicrous; for he is not the sort of person from whom I should look for sentiment; but he has been too absurd. I had really been completely blind to the whole thing, till one day at my house, your brother said to me, with one of his meaning looks, 'If I want to find Ernest, Lady Portmore, I always come here.' I caught his eye; I felt myself colour to my finger-ends; and I instantly guessed what the world was saying, and what was the warning Beaufort intended to convey. I shall always feel obliged to him for the candour and courage with which he put me on my guard. How he came to be so very clear sighted it is not for me to guess. I was rather puzzled what to do, for, Helen, you and I have, I know, the same high ideas of a wife's duty—and I really hate scenes; but it is so difficult to make that strange creature, Ernest, understand hints. He made the most absurd excuses for calling: the streets were so hot, or he wanted luncheon, or dinner; and if I looked grave, he affected to be bored, or to fall asleep. At last I thought
