re 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