diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:33:14 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:33:14 -0700 |
| commit | 799acefc3e80054e3f30b4a05704aec581faf02e (patch) | |
| tree | 89183c88500c275d311c2a7701f6481878c41650 /old | |
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8tal310.zip | bin | 0 -> 391832 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8tal410.zip | bin | 0 -> 386800 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/9455-h.htm.2021-01-26 | 22025 |
3 files changed, 22025 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/8tal310.zip b/old/8tal310.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..853b96f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8tal310.zip diff --git a/old/8tal410.zip b/old/8tal410.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bea0135 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8tal410.zip diff --git a/old/9455-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/9455-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b0ac3a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/9455-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,22025 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Tales and Novels,, by Maria Edgeworth. + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Tales And Novels, Volume 3 (of 10), by Maria Edgeworth + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales And Novels, Volume 3 (of 10) + Belinda + +Author: Maria Edgeworth + + +Release Date: December, 2005 [EBook #9455] +This file was first posted on October 2, 2003 +Last Updated: December 20, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 3 (OF 10) *** + + + + +Text file produced by Jonathan Ingram, Sheila Vogtmann, David Widger and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + TALES AND NOVELS, + </h1> + <h3> + VOLUME III (of X) + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + BELINDA. + </h2> + <h2> + By Maria Edgeworth. + </h2> + <h4> + 1857. + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>BELINDA</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — CHARACTERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — MASKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — LADY DELACOUR’S HISTORY. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — LADY DELACOUR’S HISTORY + CONTINUED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — BIRTHDAY DRESSES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — WAYS AND MEANS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — THE SERPENTINE RIVER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — A FAMILY PARTY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — ADVICE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — THE MYSTERIOUS BOUDOIR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — DIFFICULTIES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — THE MACAW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — SORTES VIRGILIANAE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — THE EXHIBITION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — JEALOUSY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — RIGHTS OF WOMAN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — A DECLARATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — A WEDDING. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — RECONCILIATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — HELENA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. — A SPECTRE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. — THE CHAPLAIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. — PEU À PEU. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. — LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. — VIRGINIA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. — A DISCOVERY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. — E O. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. — A JEW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. — NEWS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. — THE DENOUEMENT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FOOT"> FOOTNOTES: </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + BELINDA + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — CHARACTERS. + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in that branch of knowledge + which is called the art of rising in the world, had, with but a small + fortune, contrived to live in the highest company. She prided herself upon + having established half a dozen nieces most happily, that is to say, upon + having married them to men of fortunes far superior to their own. One + niece still remained unmarried—Belinda Portman, of whom she was + determined to get rid with all convenient expedition. Belinda was + handsome, graceful, sprightly, and highly accomplished; her aunt had + endeavoured to teach her that a young lady’s chief business is to please + in society, that all her charms and accomplishments should be invariably + subservient to one grand object—the establishing herself in the + world: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For this, hands, lips, and eyes were put to school, + And each instructed feature had its rule.” + </pre> + <p> + Mrs. Stanhope did not find Belinda such a docile pupil as her other + nieces, for she had been educated chiefly in the country; she had early + been inspired with a taste for domestic pleasures; she was fond of + reading, and disposed to conduct herself with prudence and integrity. Her + character, however, was yet to be developed by circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Stanhope lived at Bath, where she had opportunities of showing her + niece off, as she thought, to advantage; but as her health began to + decline, she could not go out with her as much as she wished. After + manoeuvring with more than her usual art, she succeeded in fastening + Belinda upon the fashionable Lady Delacour for the season. Her ladyship + was so much pleased by Miss Portman’s accomplishments and vivacity, as to + invite her to spend the winter with her in London. Soon after her arrival + in town, Belinda received the following letter from her aunt Stanhope. + </p> + <p> + “Crescent, Bath. + </p> + <p> + “After searching every place I could think of, Anne found your bracelet in + your dressing-table, amongst a heap of odd things, which you left behind + you to be thrown away: I have sent it to you by a young gentleman, who + came to Bath (unluckily) the very day you left me—Mr. Clarence + Hervey—an acquaintance, and great admirer of my Lady Delacour. He is + really an uncommonly pleasant young man, is highly connected, and has a + fine independent fortune. Besides, he is a man of wit and gallantry, quite + a connoisseur in female grace and beauty—just the man to bring a new + face into fashion: so, my dear Belinda, I make it a point—look well + when he is introduced to you, and remember, what I have so often told you, + that nobody <i>can</i> look well without taking some pains to please. + </p> + <p> + “I see—or at least when I went out more than my health will at + present permit—I used to see multitudes of silly girls, seemingly + all cut out upon the same pattern, who frequented public places day after + day, and year after year, without any idea farther than that of diverting + themselves, or of obtaining transient admiration. How I have pitied and + despised the giddy creatures, whilst I have observed them playing off + their unmeaning airs, vying with one another in the most <i>obvious</i>, + and consequently the most ridiculous manner, so as to expose themselves + before the very men they would attract: chattering, tittering, and + flirting; full of the present moment, never reflecting upon the future; + quite satisfied if they got a partner at a ball, without ever thinking of + a partner for life! I have often asked myself, what is to become of such + girls when they grow old or ugly, or when the public eye grows tired of + them? If they have large fortunes, it is all very well; they can afford to + divert themselves for a season or two, without doubt; they are sure to be + sought after and followed, not by mere danglers, but by men of suitable + views and pretensions: but nothing to my mind can be more miserable than + the situation of a poor girl, who, after spending not only the interest, + but the solid capital of her small fortune in dress, and frivolous + extravagance, fails in her matrimonial expectations (as many do merely + from not beginning to speculate in time). She finds herself at five or + six-and-thirty a burden to her friends, destitute of the means of + rendering herself independent (for the girls I speak of never think of <i>learning</i> + to play cards), <i>de trop</i> in society, yet obliged to hang upon all + her acquaintance, who wish her in heaven, because she is unqualified to + make the <i>expected</i> return for civilities, having no home, I mean no + establishment, no house, &c. fit for the reception of company of a + certain rank.—My dearest Belinda, may this never be your case!—You + have every possible advantage, my love: no pains have been spared in your + education, and (which is the essential point) I have taken care that this + should be known—so that you have <i>the name</i> of being perfectly + accomplished. You will also have the name of being very fashionable, if + you go much into public, as doubtless you will with Lady Delacour.—Your + own good sense must make you aware, my dear, that from her ladyship’s + situation and knowledge of the world, it will always be proper, upon all + subjects of conversation, for her to lead and you to follow: it would be + very unfit for a young girl like you to suffer yourself to stand in + competition with Lady Delacour, whose high pretensions to wit and beauty + are <i>indisputable</i>. I need say no more to you upon this subject, my + dear. Even with your limited experience, you must have observed how + foolish young people offend those who are the most necessary to their + interests, by an imprudent indulgence of their vanity. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour has an incomparable taste in dress: consult her, my dear, + and do not, by an ill-judged economy, counteract my views—apropos, I + have no objection to your being presented at court. You will, of course, + have credit with all her ladyship’s tradespeople, if you manage properly. + To know how and when to lay out money is highly commendable, for in some + situations, people judge of what one can afford by what one actually + spends.—I know of no law which compels a young lady to tell what her + age or her fortune may be. You have no occasion for caution yet on one of + these points. + </p> + <p> + “I have covered my old carpet with a handsome green baize, and every + stranger who comes to see me, I observe, takes it for granted that I have + a rich carpet under it. Say every thing that is proper, in your best + manner, for me to Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, my dear Belinda, + </p> + <p> + “Yours, very sincerely, + </p> + <p> + “SELINA STANHOPE.” + </p> + <p> + It is sometimes fortunate, that the means which are taken to produce + certain effects upon the mind have a tendency directly opposite to what is + expected. Mrs. Stanhope’s perpetual anxiety about her niece’s appearance, + manners, and establishment, had completely worn out Belinda’s patience; + she had become more insensible to the praises of her personal charms and + accomplishments than young women of her age usually are, because she had + been so much flattered and <i>shown off</i>, as it is called, by her + match-making aunt.—Yet Belinda was fond of amusement, and had + imbibed some of Mrs. Stanhope’s prejudices in favour of rank and fashion. + Her taste for literature declined in proportion to her intercourse with + the fashionable world, as she did not in this society perceive the least + use in the knowledge that she had acquired. Her mind had never been roused + to much reflection; she had in general acted but as a puppet in the hands + of others. To her aunt Stanhope she had hitherto paid unlimited, habitual, + blind obedience; but she was more undesigning, and more free from + affectation and coquetry, than could have been expected, after the course + of documenting which she had gone through. She was charmed with the idea + of a visit to Lady Delacour, whom she thought the most agreeable—no, + that is too feeble an expression—the most fascinating person she had + ever beheld. Such was the light in which her ladyship appeared, not only + to Belinda, but to all the world—that is to say, all the world of + fashion, and she knew of no other.—The newspapers were full of Lady + Delacour’s parties, and Lady Delacour’s dresses, and Lady Delacour’s <i>bon + mots</i>: every thing that her ladyship said was repeated as witty; every + thing that her ladyship wore was imitated as fashionable. Female wit + sometimes depends on the beauty of its possessor for its reputation; and + the reign of beauty is proverbially short, and fashion often capriciously + deserts her favourites, even before nature withers their charms. Lady + Delacour seemed to be a fortunate exception to these general rules: long + after she had lost the bloom of youth, she continued to be admired as a + fashionable <i>bel esprit</i>; and long after she had ceased to be a + novelty in society, her company was courted by all the gay, the witty, and + the gallant. To be seen in public with Lady Delacour, to be a visitor at + her house, were privileges of which numbers were vehemently ambitious; and + Belinda Portman was congratulated and envied by all her acquaintance, for + being admitted as an inmate. How could she avoid thinking herself + singularly fortunate? + </p> + <p> + A short time after her arrival at Lady Delacour’s, Belinda began to see + through the thin veil with which politeness covers domestic misery.—Abroad, + and at home, Lady Delacour was two different persons. Abroad she appeared + all life, spirit, and good humour—at home, listless, fretful, and + melancholy; she seemed like a spoiled actress off the stage, + over-stimulated by applause, and exhausted by the exertions of supporting + a fictitious character.—When her house was filled with well-dressed + crowds, when it blazed with lights, and resounded with music and dancing, + Lady Delacour, in the character of Mistress of the Revels, shone the soul + and spirit of pleasure and frolic: but the moment the company retired, + when the music ceased, and the lights were extinguishing, the spell was + dissolved. + </p> + <p> + She would sometimes walk up and down the empty magnificent saloon, + absorbed in thoughts seemingly of the most painful nature. + </p> + <p> + For some days after Belinda’s arrival in town she heard nothing of Lord + Delacour; his lady never mentioned his name, except once accidentally, as + she was showing Miss Portman the house, she said, “Don’t open that door—those + are only Lord Delacour’s apartments.”—The first time Belinda ever + saw his lordship, he was dead drunk in the arms of two footmen, who were + carrying him up stairs to his bedchamber: his lady, who was just returned + from Ranelagh, passed by him on the landing-place with a look of sovereign + contempt. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?—Who is this?” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Only the body of my Lord Delacour,” said her ladyship: “his bearers have + brought it up the wrong staircase. Take it down again, my good friends: + let his lordship go his <i>own way</i>. Don’t look so shocked and amazed, + Belinda—don’t look so <i>new</i>, child: this funeral of my lord’s + intellects is to me a nightly, or,” added her ladyship, looking at her + watch and yawning, “I believe I should say a <i>daily</i> ceremony—six + o’clock, I protest!” + </p> + <p> + The next morning, as her ladyship and Miss Portman were sitting at the + breakfast-table, after a very late breakfast, Lord Delacour entered the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Delacour, sober, my dear,”—said her ladyship to Miss Portman, + by way of introducing him. Prejudiced by her ladyship, Belinda was + inclined to think that Lord Delacour sober would not be more agreeable or + more rational than Lord Delacour drunk. “How old do you take my lord to + be?” whispered her ladyship, as she saw Belinda’s eye fixed upon the + trembling hand which carried his teacup to his lips: “I’ll lay you a + wager,” continued she aloud—“I’ll lay your birth-night dress, gold + fringe, and laurel wreaths into the bargain, that you don’t guess right.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you don’t think of going to this birth-night, lady Delacour?” said + his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll give you six guesses, and I’ll bet you don’t come within sixteen + years,” pursued her ladyship, still looking at Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot have the new carriage you have bespoken,” said his lordship. + “Will you do me the honour to attend to me, Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you won’t venture to guess, Belinda,” said her ladyship (without + honouring her lord with the smallest portion of her attention)—“Well, + I believe you are right—for certainly you would guess him to be + six-and-sixty, instead of six-and-thirty; but then he can drink more than + any two-legged animal in his majesty’s dominions, and you know that is an + advantage which is well worth twenty or thirty years of a man’s life—especially + to persons who have no other chance of distinguishing themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “If some people had distinguished themselves a little less in the world,” + retorted his lordship, “it would have been as well!” + </p> + <p> + “As well!—how flat!” + </p> + <p> + “Flatly then I have to inform you, Lady Delacour, that I will neither be + contradicted nor laughed at—you understand me,—it would be as + well, flat or not flat, my Lady Delacour, if your ladyship would attend + more to your own conduct, and less to others!” + </p> + <p> + “To <i>that</i> of others—his lordship means, if he means any thing. + Apropos, Belinda, did not you tell me Clarence Hervey is coming to town?—You + have never seen him.—Well, I’ll describe him to you by negatives. He + is <i>not</i> a man who ever says any thing flat—he is <i>not</i> a + man who must be wound up with half a dozen bottles of champaign before he + can <i>go</i>—he is <i>not</i> a man who, when he does go, goes + wrong, and won’t be set right—he is <i>not</i> a man, whose whole + consequence, if he were married, would depend on his wife—he is <i>not</i> + a man, who, if he were married, would be so desperately afraid of being + governed by his wife, that he would turn gambler, jockey, or sot, merely + to show that he could govern himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Lady Delacour,” said his lordship, who had been in vain attempting + to balance a spoon on the edge of his teacup during the whole of this + speech, which was delivered with the most animated desire to provoke—“Go + on, Lady Delacour—all I desire is, that you should go on; Clarence + Hervey will be much obliged to you, and I am sure so shall I. Go on, my + Lady Delacour—go on, and you’ll oblige me.” + </p> + <p> + “I never will oblige you, my lord, that you may depend upon,” cried her + ladyship, with a look of indignant contempt. + </p> + <p> + His lordship whistled, rang for his horses, and looked at his nails with a + smile. Belinda, shocked and in a great confusion, rose to leave the room, + dreading the gross continuance of this matrimonial dialogue. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hervey, my lady,” said a footman, opening the door; and he was + scarcely announced, when her ladyship went forward to receive him with an + air of easy familiarity.—“Where have you buried yourself, Hervey, + this age past?” cried she, shaking hands with him: “there’s absolutely no + living in this most stupid of all worlds without you.—Mr. Hervey—Miss + Portman—but don’t look as if you were half asleep, man—What + are you dreaming of, Clarence? Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I have passed a miserable night,” replied Clarence, throwing himself + into an actor’s attitude, and speaking in a fine tone of stage + declamation. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me,” + </pre> + <p> + said her ladyship in a similar tone.—Clarence went on— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O Lord, methought what pain it was to dance! + What dreadful noise of fiddles in my ears! + What sights of ugly <i>belles</i> within my eyes! + ——Then came wandering by, + A shadow like a devil, with red hair, + ‘Dizen’d with flowers; and she bawl’d out aloud, + Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence!” + </pre> + <p> + “O, Mrs. Luttridge to the life!” cried Lady Delacour: “I know where you + have been now, and I pity you—but sit down,” said she, making room + for him between Belinda and herself upon the sofa, “sit down here, and + tell me what could take you to that odious Mrs. Luttridge’s.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey threw himself on the sofa; Lord Delacour whistled as before, + and left the room without uttering a syllable. + </p> + <p> + “But my dream has made me forget myself strangely,” said Mr. Hervey, + turning to Belinda, and producing her bracelet: “Mrs. Stanhope promised me + that if I delivered it safely, I should be rewarded with the honour of + putting it on the owner’s fair arm.” A conversation now took place on the + nature of ladies’ promises—on fashionable bracelets—on the + size of the arm of the Venus de Medici—on Lady Delacour’s and Miss + Portman’s—on the thick legs of ancient statues—and on the + various defects and absurdities of Mrs. Luttridge and her wig. On all + these topics Mr. Hervey displayed much wit, gallantry, and satire, with so + happy an effect, that Belinda, when he took leave, was precisely of her + aunt’s opinion, that he was a most uncommonly pleasant young man. + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey might have been more than a pleasant young man, if he had + not been smitten with the desire of being thought superior in every thing, + and of being the most admired person in all companies. He had been early + flattered with the idea that he was a man of genius; and he imagined that, + as such, he was entitled to be imprudent, wild, and eccentric. He affected + singularity, in order to establish his claims to genius. He had + considerable literary talents, by which he was distinguished at Oxford; + but he was so dreadfully afraid of passing for a pedant, that when he came + into the company of the idle and the ignorant, he pretended to disdain + every species of knowledge. His chameleon character seemed to vary in + different lights, and according to the different situations in which he + happened to be placed. He could be all things to all men—and to all + women. He was supposed to be a favourite with the fair sex; and of all his + various excellencies and defects, there was none on which he valued + himself so much as on his gallantry. He was not profligate; he had a + strong sense of honour, and quick feelings of humanity; but he was so + easily led, or rather so easily excited by his companions, and his + companions were now of such a sort, that it was probable he would soon + become vicious. As to his connexion with Lady Delacour, he would have + started with horror at the idea of disturbing the peace of a family; but + in her family, he said, there was no peace to disturb; he was vain of + having it seen by the world that he was distinguished by a lady of her wit + and fashion, and he did not think it incumbent on him to be more + scrupulous or more attentive to appearances than her ladyship. By Lord + Delacour’s jealousy he was sometimes provoked, sometimes amused, and + sometimes flattered. He was constantly of all her ladyship’s parties in + public and private; consequently he saw Belinda almost every day, and + every day he saw her with increasing admiration of her beauty, and with + increasing dread of being taken in to marry a niece of “the <i>catch-match-maker</i>,” + the name by which Mrs. Stanhope was known amongst the men of his + acquaintance. Young ladies who have the misfortune to be <i>conducted</i> + by these artful dames, are always supposed to be partners in all the + speculations, though their names may not appear in the firm. If he had not + been prejudiced by the character of her aunt, Mr. Hervey would have + thought Belinda an undesigning, unaffected girl; but now he suspected her + of artifice in every word, look, and motion; and even when he felt himself + most charmed by her powers of pleasing, he was most inclined to despise + her, for what he thought such premature proficiency in scientific + coquetry. He had not sufficient resolution to keep beyond the sphere of + her attraction; but, frequently, when he found himself within it, he + cursed his folly, and drew back with sudden terror. His manner towards her + was so variable and inconsistent, that she knew not how to interpret its + language. Sometimes she fancied, that with all the eloquence of eyes he + said, “<i>I adore you</i>, Belinda;” at other times she imagined that his + guarded silence meant to warn her that he was so entangled by Lady + Delacour, that he could not extricate himself from her snares. Whenever + this last idea struck her, it excited, in the most edifying manner, her + indignation against coquetry in general, and against her ladyship’s in + particular: she became wonderfully clear-sighted to all the improprieties + of her ladyship’s conduct. Belinda’s newly acquired moral sense was so + much shocked, that she actually wrote a full statement of her observations + and her scruples to her aunt Stanhope; concluding by a request, that she + might not remain under the protection of a lady, of whose character she + could not approve, and whose intimacy might perhaps be injurious to her + reputation, if not to her principles. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Stanhope answered Belinda’s letter in a very guarded style; she + rebuked her niece severely for her imprudence in mentioning <i>names</i> + in such a manner, in a letter sent by the common post; assured her that + her reputation was in no danger; that she hoped no niece of hers would set + up for a prude—a character more suspected by men of the world than + even that of a coquette; that the person alluded to was a perfectly fit + chaperon for any young lady to appear with in public, as long as she was + visited by the first people in town; that as to any thing in the <i>private</i> + conduct of that person, and as to any <i>private brouillieries</i> between + her and her lord, Belinda should observe on these dangerous topics a + profound silence, both in her letters and her conversation; that as long + as the lady continued under the protection of her husband, the world might + whisper, but would not speak out; that as to Belinda’s own principles, she + would be utterly inexcusable if, after the education she had received, + they could be hurt by any bad examples; that she could not be too cautious + in her management of a man of ——‘s character; that she could + have no <i>serious</i> cause for jealousy in the quarter she apprehended, + as marriage there could not be the object; and there was such a difference + of age, that no permanent influence could probably be obtained by the + lady; that the most certain method for Miss Portman to expose herself to + the ridicule of one of the parties, and to the total neglect of the other, + would be to betray anxiety or jealousy; that, in short, if she were fool + enough to lose her own heart, there would be little chance of her being + wise enough to win that of———, who was evidently a man + of gallantry rather than of sentiment, and who was known to play his cards + well, and to have good luck whenever <i>hearts</i> were trumps. + </p> + <p> + Belinda’s fears of Lady Delacour, as a dangerous rival, were much quieted + by the artful insinuations of Mrs. Stanhope, with respect to her age, + &c.; and in proportion as her fears subsided, she blamed herself for + having written too harshly of her ladyship’s conduct. The idea that whilst + she appeared as Lady Delacour’s friend she ought not to propagate any + stories to her disadvantage, operated powerfully upon Belinda’s mind, and + she reproached herself for having told even her aunt what she had seen in + private. She thought that she had been guilty of treachery, and she wrote + again immediately to Mrs. Stanhope, to conjure her to burn her last + letter; to forget, if possible, its contents; and to believe that not a + syllable of a similar nature should ever more be heard from her: she was + just concluding with the words—“I hope my dear aunt will consider + all this as an error of my judgment, and not of my heart,” when Lady + Delacour burst into the room, exclaiming, in a tone of gaiety, “Tragedy or + comedy, Belinda? The masquerade dresses are come. But how’s this?” added + she, looking full in Belinda’s face—“tears in the eyes! blushes in + the cheeks! tremors in the joints! and letters shuffling away! But, you + novice of novices, how awkwardly shuffled!—A niece of Mrs. + Stanhope’s, and so unpractised a shuffler!—And is it credible she + should tremble in this ridiculous way about a love-letter or two?” + </p> + <p> + “No love-letters, indeed, Lady Delacour,” said Belinda, holding the paper + fast, as her ladyship, half in play, half in earnest, attempted to snatch + it from her. + </p> + <p> + “No love-letters! then it must be treason; and see it I must, by all + that’s good, or by all that’s bad—I see the name of Delacour!”—and + her ladyship absolutely seized the letters by force, in spite of all + Belinda’s struggles and entreaties. + </p> + <p> + “I beg, I request, I conjure you not to read it!” cried Miss Portman, + clasping her hands. “Read mine, read mine, if you <i>must</i>, but don’t + read my aunt Stanhope’s—Oh! I beg, I entreat, I conjure you!” and + she threw herself upon her knees. + </p> + <p> + “You beg! you entreat! you conjure! Why, this is like the Duchess de + Brinvilliers, who wrote on her paper of poisons, ‘Whoever finds this, I + entreat, I conjure them, in the name of more saints than I can remember, + not to open the paper any farther.’—What a simpleton, to know so + little of the nature of curiosity!” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, Lady Delacour opened Mrs. Stanhope’s letter, read it from + beginning to end, folded it up coolly when she had finished it, and simply + said, “The <i>person alluded to</i> is almost as bad as her name at full + length: does Mrs. Stanhope think no one can make out an inuendo in a + libel, or fill up a blank, but an attorney-general?” pointing to a blank + in Mrs. Stanhope’s letter, left for the name of Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + Belinda was in too much confusion either to speak or think. + </p> + <p> + “You were right to swear they were not love-letters,” pursued her + ladyship, laying down the papers. “I protest I snatched them by way of + frolic—I beg pardon. All I can do now is not to read the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay—I beg—I wish—I insist upon your reading mine,” said + Belinda. + </p> + <p> + When Lady Delacour had read it, her countenance suddenly changed—“Worth + a hundred of your aunt’s, I declare,” said she, patting Belinda’s cheek. + “What a treasure to meet with any thing like a <i>new</i> heart!—all + hearts, now-a-days, are second-hand, at best.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour spoke with a tone of feeling which Belinda had never heard + from her before, and which at this moment touched her so much, that she + took her ladyship’s hand and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — MASKS + </h2> + <p> + “Where were we when all this began?” cried Lady Delacour, forcing herself + to resume an air of gaiety—“O, masquerade was the order of the day—-tragedy + or comedy? which suits your genius best, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Whichever suits your ladyship’s taste least.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my woman, Marriott, says I ought to be tragedy; and, upon the notion + that people always succeed best when they take characters diametrically + opposite to their own—Clarence Hervey’s principle—perhaps you + don’t think that he has any principles; but there you are wrong; I do + assure you, he has sound principles—of taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Of that,” said Belinda, with a constrained smile, “he gives the most + convincing proof, by his admiring your ladyship so much.” + </p> + <p> + “And by his admiring Miss Portman so much more. But whilst we are making + speeches to one another, poor Marriott is standing in distress, like + Garrick, between tragedy and comedy.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour opened her dressing-room door, and pointed to her as she + stood with the dress of the comic muse on one arm, and the tragic muse on + the other. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I have not spirits enough to undertake the comic muse,” said + Miss Portman. + </p> + <p> + Marriott, who was a personage of prodigious consequence, and the judge in + the last resort at her mistress’s toilette, looked extremely out of humour + at having been kept waiting so long; and yet more so at the idea that her + appellant jurisdiction could be disputed. + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship’s taller than Miss Portman by half ahead,” said Marriott, + “and to be sure will best become tragedy with this long train; besides, I + had settled all the rest of your ladyship’s dress. Tragedy, they say, is + always tall; and, no offence, your ladyship’s taller than Miss Portman by + half a head.” + </p> + <p> + “For head read inch,” said Lady Delacour, “if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “When things are settled, one can’t bear to have them unsettled—but + your ladyship must have your own way, to be sure—I’ll say no more,” + cried she, throwing down the dresses. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, Marriott,” said Lady Delacour, and she placed herself between the + angry waiting-maid and the door. + </p> + <p> + “Why will you, who are the best creature in the world, put yourself into + these <i>furies</i> about nothing? Have patience with us, and you shall be + satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s another affair,” said Marriott. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman,” continued her ladyship, “don’t talk of not having spirits, + you that are all life!—What say you, Belinda?—O yes, you must + be the comic muse; and I, it seems, must be tragedy, because Marriott has + a passion for seeing me ‘come sweeping by.’ And because Marriott must have + her own way in every thing—she rules me with a rod of iron, my dear, + so tragedy I needs must be.—<i>Marriott knows her power</i>.” + </p> + <p> + There was an air of extreme vexation in Lady Delacour’s countenance as she + pronounced these last words, in which evidently more was meant than met + the ear. Upon many occasions Miss Portman had observed, that Marriott + exercised despotic authority over her mistress; and she had seen, with + surprise, that a lady, who would not yield an iota of power to her + husband, submitted herself to every caprice of the most insolent of + waiting-women. For some time, Belinda imagined that this submission was + merely an air, as she had seen some other fine ladies proud of appearing + to be governed by a favourite maid; but she was soon convinced that + Marriott was no favourite with Lady Delacour; that her ladyship’s was not + <i>proud humility</i>, but fear. It seemed certain that a woman, + extravagantly fond of her own <i>will</i>, would never have given it up + without some very substantial reason. It seemed as if Marriott was in + possession of some secret, which should for ever remain unknown. This idea + had occurred to Miss Portman more than once, but never so forcibly as upon + the present occasion. There had always been some mystery about her + ladyship’s toilette: at certain hours doors were bolted, and it was + impossible for any body but Marriott to obtain admission. Miss Portman at + first imagined that Lady Delacour dreaded the discovery of her cosmetic + secrets, but her ladyship’s rouge was so glaring, and her pearl powder was + so obvious, that Belinda was convinced there must be some other cause for + this toilette secrecy. There was a little cabinet beyond her bedchamber, + which Lady Delacour called her boudoir, to which there was an entrance by + a back staircase; but no one ever entered there but Marriott. One night, + Lady Delacour, after dancing with great spirit at a ball, at her own + house, fainted suddenly: Miss Portman attended her to her bedchamber, but + Marriott begged that her lady might be left alone with <i>her</i>, and she + would by no means suffer Belinda to follow her into the boudoir. All these + things Belinda recollected in the space of a few seconds, as she stood + contemplating Marriott and the dresses. The hurry of getting ready for the + masquerade, however, dispelled these thoughts, and by the time she was + dressed, the idea of what Clarence Hervey would think of her appearance + was uppermost in her mind. She was anxious to know whether he would + discover her in the character of the comic muse. Lady Delacour was + discontented with her tragic attire, and she grew still more out of humour + with herself, when she saw Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “I protest Marriott has made a perfect fright of me,” said her ladyship, + as she got into her carriage, “and I’m positive my dress would become you + a million of times better than your own.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman regretted that it was too late to change. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all too late, my dear,” said Lady Delacour; “never too late for + women to change their minds, their dress, or their lovers. Seriously, you + know, we are to call at my friend Lady Singleton’s—she sees masks + to-night: I’m quite intimate there; I’ll make her let me step up to her + own room, where no soul can interrupt us, and there we can change our + dresses, and Marriott will know nothing of the matter. Marriott’s a + faithful creature, and very fond of me; fond of power too—but who is + not?—we must all have our faults: one would not quarrel with such a + good creature as Marriott for a trifle.” Then suddenly changing her tone, + she said, “Not a human being will find us out at the masquerade; for no + one but Mrs. Freke knows that we are the two muses. Clarence Hervey swears + he should know me in any disguise—but I defy him—I shall take + special delight in puzzling him. Harriot Freke has told him, in + confidence, that I’m to be the widow Brady, in man’s clothes: now that’s + to be Harriot’s own character; so Hervey will make fine confusion.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as they got to Lady Singleton’s, Lady Delacour and Miss Portman + immediately went up stairs to exchange dresses. Poor Belinda, now that she + felt herself in spirits to undertake the comic muse, was rather vexed to + be obliged to give up her becoming character; but there was no resisting + the polite energy of Lady Delacour’s vanity. Her ladyship ran as quick as + lightning into a closet within the dressing-room, saying to Lady + Singleton’s woman, who attempted to follow with—“Can I do any thing + for your ladyship?”—“No, no, no—nothing, nothing—thank + ye, thank ye,—I want no assistance—I never let any body do any + thing for me but Marriott;” and she bolted herself in the closet. In a few + minutes she half opened the door, threw out her tragic robes, and cried, + “Here, Miss Portman, give me yours—quick—and let’s see whether + comedy or tragedy will be ready first.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless and forgive me,” said Lady Singleton’s woman, when Lady + Delacour at last threw open the door, when she was completely dressed—“but + if your la’ship has not been dressing all this time in that den, without + any thing in the shape of a looking-glass, and not to let me help! I that + should have been so proud.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour put half a guinea into the waiting-maid’s hand, laughed + affectedly at her own <i>whimsicalities</i>, and declared that she could + always dress herself better without a glass than with one. All this went + off admirably well with every body but Miss Portman; she could not help + thinking it extraordinary that a person who was obviously fond of being + waited upon would never suffer any person to assist her at her toilet + except Marriott, a woman of whom she was evidently afraid. Lady Delacour’s + quick eye saw curiosity painted in Belinda’s countenance, and for a moment + she was embarrassed; but she soon recovered herself, and endeavoured to + turn the course of Miss Portman’s thoughts by whispering to her some + nonsense about Clarence Hervey—a cabalistical name, which she knew + had the power, when pronounced in a certain tone, of throwing Belinda into + confusion. + </p> + <p> + The first person they saw, when they went into the drawing-room at Lady + Singleton’s, was this very Clarence Hervey, who was not in a masquerade + dress. He had laid a wager with one of his acquaintance, that he could + perform the part of the serpent, such as he is seen in Fuseli’s well-known + picture. For this purpose he had exerted much ingenuity in the invention + and execution of a length of coiled skin, which he manoeuvred with great + dexterity, by means of internal wires; his grand difficulty had been to + manufacture the rays that were to come from his eyes. He had contrived a + set of phosphoric rays, which he was certain would charm all the fair + daughters of Eve. He forgot, it seems, that phosphorus could not well be + seen by candlelight. When he was just equipped as a serpent, his rays set + fire to part of his <i>envelope</i>, and it was with the greatest + difficulty that he was extricated. He escaped unhurt, but his serpent’s + skin was utterly consumed; nothing remained but the melancholy spectacle + of its skeleton. He was obliged to give up the hopes of shining at the + masquerade, but he resolved to be at Lady Singleton’s that he might meet + Lady Delacour and Miss Portman. The moment that the tragic and comic muse + appeared, he invoked them with much humour and mock pathos, declaring that + he knew not which of them could best sing his adventure. After a recital + of his misfortune had entertained the company, and after the muses had + performed their parts to the satisfaction of the audience and their own, + the conversation ceased to be supported in masquerade character; muses and + harlequins, gipsies and Cleopatras, began to talk of their private + affairs, and of the news and the scandal of the day. + </p> + <p> + A group of gentlemen, amongst whom was Clarence Hervey, gathered round the + tragic muse; as Mr. Hervey had hinted that he knew she was a person of + distinction, though he would not tell her name. After he had exercised his + wit for some time, without obtaining from the tragic muse one single + syllable, he whispered, “Lady Delacour, why this unnatural reserve? Do you + imagine that, through this tragical disguise, I have not found you out?” + </p> + <p> + The tragic muse, apparently absorbed in meditation, vouchsafed no reply. + </p> + <p> + “The devil a word can you get for your pains, Hervey,” said a gentleman of + his acquaintance, who joined the party at this instant. “Why didn’t you + stick to t’other muse, who, to do her justice, is as arrant a flirt as + your heart could wish for?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s danger in flirting,” said Clarence, “with an arrant flirt of Mrs. + Stanhope’s training. There’s a kind of electricity about that girl. I have + a sort of cobweb feeling, an imaginary net coming all over me.” + </p> + <p> + “Fore-warned is fore-armed,” replied his companion: “a man must be a + novice indeed that could be taken in at this time of day by a niece of + Mrs. Stanhope’s.” + </p> + <p> + “That Mrs. Stanhope must be a good clever dame, faith,” said a third + gentleman: “there’s no less than six of her nieces whom she has got off + within these four winters—not one of ‘em now that has not made a + catch-match.—There’s the eldest of the set, Mrs. Tollemache, what + had she, in the devil’s name, to set up with in the world but a pair of + good eyes?—her aunt, to be sure, taught her the use of them early + enough: they might have rolled to all eternity before they would have + rolled me out of my senses; but you see they did Tollemache’s business. + However, they are going to part now, I hear: Tollemache was tired of her + before the honey-moon was over, as I foretold. Then there’s the musical + girl. Joddrell, who has no more ear than a post, went and married her, + because he had a mind to set up for a connoisseur in music; and Mrs. + Stanhope flattered him that he was one.” + </p> + <p> + The gentlemen joined in the general laugh: the tragic muse sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Even were she at the School for Scandal, the tragic muse dare not laugh, + except behind her mask,” said Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “Far be it from her to laugh at those follies which she must for ever + deplore!” said Belinda, in a feigned voice.—“What miseries spring + from these ill-suited marriages! The victims are sacrificed before they + have sense enough to avoid their fate.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey imagined that this speech alluded to Lady Delacour’s own + marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Damn me if I know any woman, young or old, that would <i>avoid</i> being + married, if she could, though,” cried Sir Philip Baddely, a gentleman who + always supplied “each vacuity of sense” with an oath: “but, Rochfort, + didn’t Valleton marry one of these nieces?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes: she was a mighty fine dancer, and had good legs enough: Mrs. + Stanhope got poor Valleton to fight a duel about her place in a country + dance, and then he was so pleased with himself for his prowess, that he + married the girl.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda made an effort to change her seat, but she was encompassed so that + she could not retreat. + </p> + <p> + “As to Jenny Mason, the fifth of the <i>nieces</i>,” continued the witty + gentleman, “she was as brown as mahogany, and had neither eyes, nose, + mouth, nor legs: what Mrs. Stanhope could do with her I often wondered; + but she took courage, <i>rouged</i> her up, set her a going as a <i>dasher</i>, + and she dashed herself into Tom Levit’s curricle, and Tom couldn’t get her + out again till she was the honourable Mrs. Levit: she then took the reins + into her own hands, and I hear she’s driving him and herself <i>the road + to ruin</i> as fast as they can gallop. As for this Belinda Portman, ‘twas + a good hit to send her to Lady Delacour’s; but, I take it she hangs upon + hand; for last winter, when I was at Bath, she was hawked about every + where, and the aunt was puffing her with might and main. You heard of + nothing, wherever you went, but of Belinda Portman, and Belinda Portman’s + accomplishments: Belinda Portman, and her accomplishments, I’ll swear, + were as well advertised as Packwood’s razor strops.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Stanhope overdid the business, I think,” resumed the gentleman who + began the conversation: “girls brought to the hammer this way don’t go off + well. It’s true, Christie himself is no match for dame Stanhope. Many of + my acquaintance were tempted to go and look at the premises, but not one, + you may be sure, had a thought of becoming a tenant for life.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s an honour reserved for you, Clarence Hervey,” said another, + tapping him upon the shoulder.—“Give ye joy, Hervey; give ye joy!” + </p> + <p> + “Me!” said Clarence, starting. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be hanged if he didn’t change colour,” said his facetious companion; + and all the young men again joined in a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Laugh on, my merry men all!” cried Clarence; “but the devil’s in it if I + don’t know my own mind better than any of you. You don’t imagine I go to + Lady Delacour’s to look for a <i>wife?</i>—Belinda Portman’s a good + pretty girl, but what then? Do you think I’m an idiot?—do you think + I could be taken in by one of the Stanhope school? Do you think I don’t + see as plainly as any of you that Belinda Portman’s a composition of art + and affectation?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush—not so loud, Clarence; here she comes,” said his companion. + “The comic muse, is not she—?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour, at this moment, came lightly tripping towards them, and + addressing herself, in the character of the comic muse, to Hervey, + exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “Hervey! <i>my</i> Hervey! most favoured of my votaries, why do you + forsake me? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Why mourns my friend, why weeps his downcast eye? + That eye where mirth and fancy used to shine.’ +</pre> + <p> + Though you have lost your serpent’s form, yet you may please any of the + fair daughters of Eve in your own.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey bowed; all the gentlemen who stood near him smiled; the tragic + muse gave an involuntary sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Could I borrow a sigh, or a tear, from my tragic sister,” pursued Lady + Delacour, “however unbecoming to my character, I would, if only sighs or + tears can win the heart of Clarence Hervey:—let me practise”—and + her ladyship practised sighing with much comic effect. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Persuasive words and more persuasive sighs,” + </pre> + <p> + said Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “A good bold Stanhope cast of the net, faith,” whispered one of his + companions. “Melpomene, hast thou forgot thyself to marble?” pursued Lady + Delacour. “I am not very well,” whispered Miss Portman to her ladyship: + “could we get away?” + </p> + <p> + “Get away from Clarence Hervey, do you mean?” replied her ladyship, in a + whisper: “‘tis not easy, but we’ll try what can be done, if it is + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda had no power to reply to this raillery; indeed, she scarcely heard + the words that were said to her; but she put her arm within Lady + Delacour’s, who, to her great relief, had the good nature to leave the + room with her immediately. Her ladyship, though she would sacrifice the + feelings of others, without compunction, to her vanity, whenever the power + of her wit was disputed, yet towards those by whom it was acknowledged she + showed some mercy. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with the child?” said she, as she went down the + staircase. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, if I could have air,” said Belinda. There was a crowd of + servants in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Why does Lady Delacour avoid me so pertinaciously? What crime have I + committed, that I was not favoured with one word?” said Clarence Hervey, + who had followed them down stairs, and overtook them in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Do see if you can find any of my people,” cried Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour, the comic muse!” exclaimed Mr. Hervey. “I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “No matter what you thought,” interrupted her ladyship. “Let my carriage + draw up, for here’s a young friend of yours trembling so about <i>nothing</i>, + that I am half afraid she will faint; and you know it would not be so + pleasant to faint here amongst footmen. Stay! this room is empty. O, I did + not mean to tell <i>you</i> to stay,” said she to Hervey, who + involuntarily followed her in the utmost consternation. + </p> + <p> + “I’m perfectly well, now—perfectly well,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly a simpleton, I think,” said Lady Delacour. “Nay, my dear, you + must be ruled; your mask must come off: didn’t you tell me you wanted air?—What + now! This is not the first time Clarence Hervey has ever seen your face + without a mask, is it? It’s the first time indeed he, or anybody else, + ever saw it of such a colour, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + When Lady Delacour pulled off Belinda’s mask, her face was, during the + first instant, pale; the next moment, crimsoned over with a burning blush. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with ye both? How he stands!” said Lady Delacour, + turning to Mr. Hervey. “Did you never see a woman blush before?—or + did you never say or do any thing to make a woman blush before? Will you + give Miss Portman a glass of water?—there’s some behind you on that + sideboard, man!—but he has neither eyes, ears, nor understanding.—Do + go about your business,” said her ladyship, pushing him towards the door—“Do + go about your business, for I haven’t common patience with you: on my + conscience I believe the man’s in love—and not with me! That’s + sal-volatile for you, child, I perceive,” continued she to Belinda. “O, + you can walk now—but remember you are on slippery ground: remember + Clarence Hervey is not a marrying man, and you are not a married woman.” + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly indifferent to me, madam,” Belinda said, with a voice and + look of proud indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour, your carriage has drawn up,” said Clarence Hervey, + returning to the door, but without entering. + </p> + <p> + “Then put this ‘perfectly well’ and ‘perfectly indifferent’ lady into it,” + said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + He obeyed without uttering a syllable. + </p> + <p> + “Dumb! absolutely dumb! I protest,” said her ladyship, as he handed her in + afterwards. “Why, Clarence, the casting of your serpent’s skin seems to + have quite changed your nature—nothing but the simplicity of the + dove left; and I expect to hear, you cooing presently—don’t you, + Miss Portman?” She ordered the coachman to drive to the Pantheon. + </p> + <p> + “To the Pantheon! I was in hopes your ladyship would have the goodness to + set me down at home; for indeed I shall be a burden to you and everybody + else at the masquerade.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have made any appointment for the rest of the evening in + Berkley-square, I’ll set you down, certainly, if you insist upon it, my + dear—for punctuality is a virtue; but prudence is a virtue too, in a + young lady; who, as your aunt Stanhope would say, has to <i>establish</i> + herself in the world. Why these tears, Belinda?—or are they tears? + for by the light of the lamps I can scarcely tell; though I’ll swear I saw + the handkerchief at the eyes. What is the meaning of all this? You’d best + trust me—for I know as much of men and manners as your aunt Stanhope + at least; and in one word, you have nothing to fear from me, and every + thing to hope from yourself, if you will only dry up your tears, <i>keep + on your mask</i>, and take my advice; you’ll find it as good as your aunt + Stanhope’s.” + </p> + <p> + “My aunt Stanhope’s! O,” cried Belinda, “never, never more will I take + such advice; never more will I expose myself to be insulted as a female + adventurer.—Little did I know in what a light I appeared; little did + I know what <i>gentlemen</i> thought of my aunt Stanhope, of my cousins, + of myself!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Gentlemen</i>! I presume Clarence Hervey stands at this instant, in + your imagination, as the representative of all the gentlemen in England; + and he, instead of Anacharsis Cloots, is now, to be sure, l’orateur du + genre humain. Pray let me have a specimen of the eloquence, which, to + judge by its effects, must be powerful indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman, not without some reluctance, repeated the conversation which + she had heard.—“And is this all?” cried Lady Delacour. “Lord, my + dear, you must either give up living in the world, or expect to hear + yourself, and your aunts, and your cousins, and your friends, from + generation to generation, abused every hour in the day by their friends + and your friends; ‘tis the common course of things. Now you know what a + multitude of obedient humble servants, dear creatures, and very sincere + and most affectionate friends, I have in my writing-desk, and on my + mantel-piece, not to mention the cards which crowd the common rack from + intimate acquaintance, who cannot live without the honour, or favour, or + pleasure of seeing Lady Delacour twice a week;—do you think I’m fool + enough to imagine that they would care the hundredth part of a straw if I + were this minute thrown into the Red or the Black Sea?—No, I have + not one <i>real</i> friend in the world except Harriot Freke; yet, you see + I am the comic muse, and mean to keep it up—keep it up to the last—on + purpose to provoke those who would give their eyes to be able to pity me;—I + humbly thank them, no pity for Lady Delacour. Follow my example, Belinda; + elbow your way through the crowd: if you stop to be civil and beg pardon, + and ‘<i>hope I didn’t hurt ye</i>,’ you will be trod under foot. Now + you’ll meet those young men continually who took the liberty of laughing + at your aunt, and your cousins, and yourself; they are men of fashion. + Show them you’ve no feeling, and they’ll acknowledge you for a woman of + fashion. You’ll marry better than any of your cousins,—Clarence + Hervey if you can; and then it will be your turn to laugh about nets and + cages. As to love and all that—” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped at the Pantheon just as her ladyship came to the + words “love and all that.” Her thoughts took a different turn, and during + the remainder of the night she exhibited, in such a manner as to attract + universal admiration, all the ease, and grace, and gaiety, of Euphrosyne. + </p> + <p> + To Belinda the night appeared long and dull: the commonplace wit of + chimney-sweepers and gipsies, the antics of harlequins, the graces of + flower-girls and Cleopatras, had not power to amuse her; for her thoughts + still recurred to that conversation which had given her so much pain—a + pain which Lady Delacour’s raillery had failed to obliterate. + </p> + <p> + “How happy you are, Lady Delacour,” said she, when they got into the + carriage to go home; “how happy you are to have such an amazing flow of + spirits!” + </p> + <p> + “Amazing you might well say, if you knew all,” said Lady Delacour; and she + heaved a deep sigh, threw herself back in the carriage, let fall her mask, + and was silent. It was broad daylight, and Belinda had a full view of her + countenance, which was the picture of despair. She uttered not one + syllable more, nor had Miss Portman the courage to interrupt her + meditations till they came within sight, of Lady Singleton’s, when Belinda + ventured to remind her that she had resolved to stop there and change + dresses before Marriott saw them. + </p> + <p> + “No, it’s no matter,” said Lady Delacour; “Marriott will leave me at the + last, like all the rest—‘tis no matter.” Her ladyship sunk back into + her former attitude; but after she had remained silent for some minutes, + she started up and exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “If I had served myself with half the zeal that I have served the world, I + should not now be thus forsaken! I have sacrificed reputation, happiness, + every thing to the love of frolic:—all frolic will soon be at an end + with me—I am dying—and I shall die unlamented by any human + being. If I were to live my life over again, what a different life it + should be!—What a different person <i>I would be!</i><a + href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a>—But + it is all over now—I am dying.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda’s astonishment at these words, and at the solemn manner in which + they were pronounced, was inexpressible; she gazed at Lady Delacour, and + then repeated the word,—‘dying!’—“Yes, dying!” said Lady + Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “But you seem to me, and to all the world, in perfect health; and but half + an hour ago in perfect spirits,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “I seem to you and to all the world, what I am not—I tell you I am + dying,” said her ladyship in an emphatic tone. + </p> + <p> + Not a word more passed till they got home. Lady Delacour hurried up + stairs, bidding Belinda follow her to her dressing-room. Marriott was + lighting the six wax candles on the dressing-table.—“As I live, they + have changed dresses after all,” said Marriott to herself, as she fixed + her eyes upon Lady Delacour and Miss Portman. “I’ll be burnt, if I don’t + make my lady remember this.” + </p> + <p> + “Marriott, you need not wait; I’ll ring when I want you,” said Lady + Delacour; and taking one of the candles from the table, she passed on + hastily with Miss Portman through her dressing-room, through her + bedchamber, and to the door of the mysterious cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “Marriott, the key of this door,” cried she impatiently, after she had in + vain attempted to open it. + </p> + <p> + “Heavenly graciousness!” cried Marriott; “is my lady out of her senses?” + </p> + <p> + “The key—the key—quick, the key,” repeated Lady Delacour, in a + peremptory tone. She seized it as soon as Marriott drew it from her + pocket, and unlocked the door. + </p> + <p> + “Had not I best put <i>the things</i> to rights, my lady?” said Marriott, + catching fast hold of the opening door. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll ring when you are wanted, Marriott,” said Lady Delacour; and pushing + open the door with violence she rushed forward to the middle of the room, + and turning back, she beckoned to Belinda to follow her—“Come in; + what is it you are afraid of?” said she. Belinda went on, and the moment + she was in the room, Lady Delacour shut and locked the door. The room was + rather dark, as there was no light in it except what came from the candle + which Lady Delacour held in her hand, and which burned but dimly. Belinda, + as she looked round, saw nothing but a confusion of linen rags; vials, + some empty, some full, and she perceived that there was a strong smell of + medicines. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour, whose motions were all precipitate, like those of a person + whose mind is in great agitation, looked from side to side of the room, + without seeming to know what she was in search of. She then, with a + species of fury, wiped the paint from her face, and returning to Belinda, + held the candle so as to throw the light full upon her livid features. Her + eyes were sunk, her cheeks hollow; no trace of youth or beauty remained on + her death-like countenance, which formed a horrid contrast with her gay + fantastic dress. + </p> + <p> + “You are shocked, Belinda,” said she; “but as yet you have seen nothing—look + here,”—and baring one half of her bosom, she revealed a hideous + spectacle. + </p> + <p> + Belinda sunk back into a chair; Lady Delacour flung herself on her knees + before her. + </p> + <p> + “Am I humbled, am I wretched enough?” cried she, her voice trembling with + agony. “Yes, pity me for what you have seen, and a thousand times more for + that which you cannot see:—my mind is eaten away like my body by + incurable disease—inveterate remorse—remorse for a life of + folly—of folly which has brought on me all the punishments of + guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “My husband,” continued she, and her voice suddenly altered from the tone + of grief to that of anger—“my husband hates me—no matter—I + despise him. His relations hate me—no matter—I despise them. + My own relations hate me—no matter, I never wish to see them more—never + shall they see my sorrow—never shall they hear a complaint, a sigh + from me. There is no torture which I could not more easily endure than + their insulting pity. I will die, as I have lived, the envy and admiration + of the world. When I am gone, let them find out their mistake; and + moralize, if they will, over my grave.” She paused. Belinda had no power + to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Promise, swear to me,” resumed Lady Delacour vehemently, seizing + Belinda’s hand, “that you will never reveal to any mortal what you have + seen and heard this night. No living creature suspects that Lady Delacour + is dying by inches, except Marriott and that woman whom but a few hours + ago I thought my <i>real friend</i>, to whom I trusted every secret of my + life, every thought of my heart. Fool! idiot! dupe that I was to trust to + the friendship of a woman whom I knew to be without principle: but I + thought she had honour; I thought she could never betray <i>me</i>,—O + Harriot! Harriot! you to desert me!—Any thing else I could have + borne—but you, who I thought would have supported me in the tortures + of mind and body which I am to go through—you that I thought would + receive my last breath—you to desert me!—Now I am alone in the + world—left to the mercy of an insolent waiting-woman.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour hid her face in Belinda’s lap, and almost stifled by the + violence of contending emotions, she at last gave vent to them, and sobbed + aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Trust to one,” said Belinda, pressing her hand, with all the tenderness + which humanity could dictate, “who will never leave you at the mercy of an + insolent waiting-woman—trust to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Trust to you!” said Lady Delacour, looking up eagerly in Belinda’s face; + “yes—I think—I may trust to you; for though a niece of Mrs. + Stanhope’s, I have seen this day, and have seen with surprise, symptoms of + artless feeling about you. This was what tempted me to open my mind to you + when I found that I had lost the only friend—but I will think no + more of that—if you have a heart, you must feel for me.—Leave + me now—tomorrow you shall hear my whole history—now I am quite + exhausted—ring for Marriott.” Marriott appeared with a face of + constrained civility and latent rage. “Put me to bed, Marriott,” said Lady + Delacour, with a subdued voice; “but first light Miss Portman to her room—she + need not—yet—see the horrid business of my toilette.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, when she was left alone, immediately opened her shutters, and + threw up the sash, to refresh herself with the morning air. She felt + excessively fatigued, and in the hurry of her mind she could not think of + any thing distinctly. She took off her masquerade dress, and went to bed + in hopes of forgetting, for a few hours, what she felt indelibly impressed + upon her imagination. But it was in vain that she endeavoured to compose + herself to sleep; her ideas were in too great and painful confusion. For + some time, whenever she closed her eyes, the face and form of Lady + Delacour, such as she had just beheld them, seemed to haunt her; + afterwards, the idea of Clarence Hervey, and the painful recollection of + the conversation she had overheard, recurred to her: the words, “Do you + think I don’t know that Belinda Portman is a composition of art and + affectation?” fixed in her memory. She recollected with the utmost + minuteness every look of contempt which she had seen in the faces of the + young men whilst they spoke of Mrs. Stanhope, the match-maker. Belinda’s + mind, however, was not yet sufficiently calm to reflect; she seemed only + to live over again the preceding night. At last, the strange motley + figures which she had seen at the masquerade flitted before her eyes, and + she sunk into an uneasy slumber. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — LADY DELACOUR’S HISTORY. + </h2> + <p> + Miss Portman was awakened by the ringing of Lady Delacour’s bedchamber + bell. She opened her eyes with the confused idea that something + disagreeable had happened; and before she had distinctly recollected + herself, Marriott came to her bedside, with a note from Lady Delacour: it + was written with a pencil. + </p> + <p> + “DELACOUR—<i>my</i> lord!!!! is to have to-day what Garrick used to + call a <i>gander feast</i>—will you dine with me tête-à-tête, and + I’ll write an <i>excuse</i>, alias a lie, to Lady Singleton, in the form + of a charming note—I pique myself <i>sur l’éloquence du billet</i>—then + we shall have the evening to ourselves. I have much to say, as people + usually have when they begin to talk of themselves. + </p> + <p> + “I have taken a double dose of opium, and am not so horribly out of + spirits as I was last night; so you need not be afraid of another <i>scene</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see you in my dressing-room, dear Belinda, as soon as you have + adored + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘With head uncover’d the cosmetic powers.’ +</pre> + <p> + “But you don’t paint—no matter—you will—you must—every + body must, sooner or later. In the mean time, whenever you want to send a + note that shall not be opened by <i>the bearer</i>, put your trust neither + in wafer nor wax, but twist it as I twist mine. You see I wish to put you + in possession of some valuable secrets before I leave this world—this, + by-the-bye, I don’t, upon second thoughts, which are always best, mean to + do yet. There certainly were such people as Amazons—I hope you + admire them—for who could live without the admiration of Belinda + Portman?—not Clarence Hervey assuredly—nor yet + </p> + <p> + “T. C. H. DELACOUR.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda obeyed the summons to her ladyship’s dressing-room: she found Lady + Delacour with her face completely repaired with paint, and her spirits + with opium. She was in high consultation with Marriott and Mrs. Franks, + the milliner, about the crape petticoat of her birthnight dress, which was + extended over a large hoop in full state. Mrs. Franks descanted long and + learnedly upon festoons and loops, knots and fringes, submitting all the + time every thing to her ladyship’s better judgment. + </p> + <p> + Marriott was sulky and silent. She opened her lips but once upon the + question of laburnum or no laburnum flowers. + </p> + <p> + Against them she quoted the memoirs and authority of the celebrated Mrs. + Bellamy, who has a case in point to prove that “straw colour must ever + look like dirty white by candlelight.” Mrs. Franks, to compromise the + matter, proposed gold laburnums, “because nothing can look better by + candlelight, or any light, than gold;” and Lady Delacour, who was afraid + that the milliner’s imagination, now that it had once touched upon gold, + might be led to the vulgar idea of <i>ready money</i>, suddenly broke up + the conference, by exclaiming, + </p> + <p> + “We shall be late at Phillips’s exhibition of French china. Mrs. Franks + must let us see her again to-morrow, to take into consideration your court + dress, my dear Belinda—‘Miss Portman presented by Lady Delacour’—Mrs. + Franks, let her dress, for heaven’s sake, be something that will make a + fine paragraph:—I give you four-and-twenty hours to think of it. I + have done a horrid act this day,” continued she, after Mrs. Franks had + left the room—“absolutely written a <i>twisted</i> note to Clarence + Hervey, my dear—but why did I tell you that? Now your head will run + upon the twisted note all day, instead of upon ‘The Life and Opinions of a + Lady of Quality, related by herself.’” + </p> + <p> + After dinner Lady Delacour having made Belinda protest and blush, and + blush and protest, that her head was not running upon the twisted note, + began the history of her life and opinions in the following manner:— + </p> + <p> + “I do nothing by halves, my dear. I shall not tell you my adventures as + Gil Blas told his to the Count d’Olivarez—skipping over the <i>useful</i> + passages. I am no hypocrite, and have nothing worse than folly to conceal: + that’s bad enough—for a woman who is known to play the fool is + always suspected of playing the devil. But I begin where I ought to end—with + my moral, which I dare say you are not impatient to anticipate. I never + read or listened to a moral at the end of a story in my life:—manners + for me, and morals for those that like them. My dear, you will be woefully + disappointed if in my story you expect any thing like a novel. I once + heard a general say, that nothing was less like a review than a battle; + and I can tell you that nothing is more unlike a novel than real life. Of + all lives, mine has been the least romantic. No love in it, but a great + deal of hate. I was a rich heiress—I had, I believe, a hundred + thousand pounds, or more, and twice as many caprices: I was handsome and + witty—or, to speak with that kind of circumlocution which is called + humility, the world, the partial world, thought me a beauty and a + bel-esprit. Having told you my fortune, need I add, that I, or it, had + lovers in abundance—of all sorts and degrees—not to reckon + those, it may be presumed, who died of concealed passions for me? I had + sixteen declarations and proposals in form; then what in the name of + wonder, or of common sense—which by-the-bye is the greatest of + wonders—what, in the name of common sense, made me marry Lord + Delacour? Why, my dear, you—no, not <i>you</i>, but any girl who is + not used to have a parcel of admirers, would think it the easiest thing in + the world to make her choice; but let her judge by what she feels when a + dexterous mercer or linen-draper produces pretty thing after pretty thing—and + this is so becoming, and this will wear for ever, as he swears; but then + that’s so fashionable;—the novice stands in a charming perplexity, + and after examining, and doubting, and tossing over half the goods in the + shop, it’s ten to one, when it begins to get late, the young lady, in a + hurry, pitches upon the very ugliest and worst thing that she has seen. + Just so it was with me and my lovers, and just so— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,’ +</pre> + <p> + I pitched upon Viscount Delacour for my lord and judge. He had just at + that time lost at Newmarket more than he was worth in every sense of the + word; and my fortune was the most convenient thing in the world to a man + in his condition. Lozenges are of sovereign use in some complaints. The + heiress lozenge is a specific in some consumptions. You are surprised that + I can laugh and jest about such a melancholy thing as my marriage with + Lord Delacour; and so am I, especially when I recollect all the + circumstances; for though I bragged of there being no love in my history, + there was when I was a goose or a gosling of about eighteen—just + your age, Belinda, I think—something very like love playing about my + heart, or my head. There was a certain Henry Percival, a Clarence Hervey + of a man—no, he had ten times the sense, begging your pardon, of + Clarence Hervey—his misfortune, or mine, was, that he had too much + sense—he was in love with me, but not with my faults; now I, wisely + considering that my faults were the greatest part of me, insisted upon his + being in love with my faults. He wouldn’t, or couldn’t—I said + wouldn’t, he said couldn’t. I had been used to see the men about me lick + the dust at my feet, for it was gold dust. Percival made wry faces—Lord + Delacour made none. I pointed him out to Percival as an example—it + was an example he would not follow. I was provoked, and I married in hopes + of provoking the man I loved. The worst of it was, I did not provoke him + as much as I expected. Six months afterwards I heard of his marriage with + a very amiable woman. I hate those <i>very amiable women</i>. Poor + Percival! I should have been a very happy woman, I fancy, if I had married + you—for I believe you were the only man who ever really loved me; + but all that is over now!—Where were we? O, I married my Lord + Delacour, knowing him to be a fool, and believing that, for this reason, I + should find no trouble in governing him. But what a fatal mistake!-a fool, + of all animals in the creation, is the most difficult to govern. We set + out in the fashionable world with a mutual desire to be as extravagant as + possible. Strange, that with this similarity of taste we could never + agree!—strange, that this similarity of taste was the cause of our + perpetual quarrels! During the first year of our marriage, I had always + the upper hand in these disputes, and the last word; and I was content. + Stubborn as the brute was, I thought I should in time break him in. From + the specimens you have seen, you may guess that I was even then a + tolerable proficient in the dear art of <i>tormenting</i>. I had almost + gained my point, just broken my lord’s heart, when one fair morning I + unluckily told his man Champfort that he knew no more how to cut hair than + a sheep-shearer. Champfort, who is conceit personified, took mortal + offence at this; and the devil, who is always at hand to turn anger into + malice, put it into Champfort’s head to put it into my lord’s head, that + the world thought—‘<i>My lady governed him</i>.’ My lord took fire. + They say the torpedo, the coldest of cold creatures, sometimes gives out a + spark—I suppose when electrified with anger. The next time that + innocent I insisted upon my Lord Delacour’s doing or not doing—I + forget which—the most reasonable thing in the world, my lord turns + short round, and answers—‘My Lady Delacour, I am not a man to be + governed by a wife.’—And from that time to this the words, ‘I am not + a man to be governed by a wife,’ have been written in his obstinate face, + as all the world who can read the human countenance may see. My dear, I + laugh; but even in the midst of laughter there is sadness. But you don’t + know what it is—I hope you never may—to have an obstinate fool + for a bosom friend. + </p> + <p> + “I at first flattered myself that my lord’s was not an inveterate, + incurable malady: but from his obvious weakness, I might have seen that + there was no hope; for cases of obstinacy are always dangerous in + proportion to the weakness of the patient. My lord’s case was desperate. + Kill or cure was my humane or prudent maxim. I determined to try the + poison of jealousy, by way of an alterative. I had long kept it in petto + as my ultimate remedy. I fixed upon a proper subject—a man with whom + I thought that I could coquette to all eternity, without any danger to + myself—a certain Colonel Lawless, as empty a coxcomb as you would + wish to see. The world, said I to myself, can never be so absurd as to + suspect Lady Delacour with such a man as this, though her lord may, and + will; for nothing is too absurd for him to believe. Half my theory proved + just; that is saying a great deal for any theory. My lord swallowed the + remedy that I had prepared for him with an avidity and a bonhommie which + it did me good to behold; my remedy operated beyond my most sanguine + expectations. The poor man was cured of his obstinacy, and became stark + mad with jealousy. Then indeed I had some hopes of him; for a madman can + be managed, a fool cannot. In a month’s time I made him quite docile. With + a face longer than the weeping philosopher’s, he came to me one morning, + and assured me, ‘he would do every thing I pleased, provided I would + consult my own honour and his, and give up Colonel Lawless.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Give up!’—I could hardly forbear laughing at the expression. I + replied, ‘that as long as my lord treated me with becoming respect, I had + never in thought or deed given him just cause of complaint; but that I was + not a woman to be insulted, or to be kept, as I had hitherto been, in + leading-strings by a husband.’ My lord, flattered as I meant he should be + with the idea that it was possible he should be suspected of keeping a + wife in leading-strings, fell to making protestations—‘He hoped his + future conduct would prove,’ &c. Upon this hint, I gave the reins to + my imagination, and full drive I went into a fresh career of extravagance: + if I were checked, it was <i>an insult</i>, and I began directly to talk + of <i>leading-strings</i>. This ridiculous game I played successfully + enough for some time, till at length, though naturally rather slow at + calculation, he actually discovered, that if we lived at the rate of + twenty thousand a-year, and had only ten thousand a-year to spend, we + should in due time have nothing left. This notable discovery he + communicated to me one morning, after a long preamble. When he had + finished prosing, I agreed that it was demonstrably just that he should + retrench <i>his</i> expenses; but that it was equally unjust and + impossible that I could make any reformation in <i>my</i> civil list: that + economy was a word which I had never heard of in my life till I married + his lordship; that, upon second recollection, it was true I had heard of + such a thing as national economy, and that it would be a very pretty, + though rather hackneyed topic of declamation for a maiden speech in the + House of Lords. I therefore advised him to reserve all he had to say upon + the subject for the noble lord upon the woolsack; nay, I very graciously + added, that upon this condition I would go to the house myself to give his + arguments and eloquence a fair hearing, and that I would do my best to + keep myself awake. This was all mighty playful and witty; but it happened + that my Lord Delacour, who never had any great taste for wit, could not + this unlucky morning at all relish it. Of course I grew angry, and + reminded him, with an indelicacy which his want of generosity justified, + that an heiress, who had brought a hundred thousand pounds into his + family, had some right to amuse herself, and that it was not my fault if + elegant amusements were more expensive than others. + </p> + <p> + “Then came a long criminating and recriminating chapter. It was, ‘My lord, + your Newmarket blunders’—‘My lady, your cursed <i>theatricals</i>’—‘My + lord, I have surely a right’—and, ‘My lady, I have surely as good a + right.’ + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Belinda, however we might pay one another, we could not pay + all the world with words. In short, after running through thousands and + tens of thousands, we were actually in distress for money. Then came + selling of lands, and I don’t know what devices for raising money, + according to the modes of lawyers and attorneys. It was quite indifferent + to me how they got money, provided they did get it. By what art these + gentlemen raised money, I never troubled myself to inquire; it might have + been the black art, for any thing I know to the contrary. I know nothing + of business. So I signed all the papers they brought to me; and I was + mighty well pleased to find, that by so easy an expedient as writing ‘T. + C. H. Delacour,’ I could command money at will. I signed, and signed, till + at last I was with all due civility informed that my signature was no + longer worth a farthing; and when I came to inquire into the cause of this + phenomenon, I could nowise understand what my Lord Delacour’s lawyer said + to me: he was a prig, and I had not patience either to listen to him or to + look at him. I sent for an old uncle of mine, who used to manage all my + money matters before I was married: I put the uncle and the lawyer into a + room, together with their parchments, to fight the matter out, or to come + to a right understanding if they could. The last, it seems, was quite + impossible. In the course of half an hour, out comes my uncle in such a + rage! I never shall forget his face—all the bile in his body had + gotten into it; he had literally no whites to his eyes. ‘My dear uncle,’ + said I, ‘what is the matter? Why, you are absolutely gold stick in + waiting.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No matter what I am, child,’ said the uncle; ‘I’ll tell you what you + are, with all your wit—a dupe: ‘tis a shame for a woman of your + sense to be such a fool, and to know nothing of business; and if you knew + nothing yourself, could not you send for me?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I was too ignorant to know that I know nothing,’ said I. But I will not + trouble you with all the said I’s and said he’s. I was made to understand, + that if Lord Delacour were to die the next day, I should live a beggar. + Upon this I grew serious, as you may imagine. My uncle assured me that I + had been grossly imposed upon by my lord and his lawyer; and that I had + been swindled out of my senses, and out of my dower. I repeated all that + my uncle said, very faithfully, to Lord Delacour; and all that either he + or his lawyer could furnish out by way of answer was, that ‘Necessity had + no law.’ Necessity, it must be allowed, though it might be the mother of + law, was never with my lord the mother of invention. Having now found out + that I had a good right to complain, I indulged myself in it most + gloriously; in short, my dear, we had a comfortable family quarrel. Love + quarrels are easily made up, but of money quarrels there is no end. From + the moment these money quarrels commenced, I began to hate Lord Delacour; + before, I had only despised him. You can have no notion to what meanness + extravagance reduces men. I have known Lord Delacour shirk, and look so + shabby, and tell so many lies to people about a hundred guineas—a + hundred guineas!—what do I say?—about twenty, ten, five! O, my + dear, I cannot bear the thoughts of it! + </p> + <p> + “But I was going on to tell you, that my good uncle and all my relations + quarrelled with me for having ruined myself, as they said; but I said they + quarrelled with me for fear I should ask them for some of their ‘<i>vile + trash</i>.’ Accordingly, I abused and ridiculed them, one and all; and for + my pains, all my acquaintance said, that ‘Lady Delacour was a woman of a + vast deal of spirit.’ + </p> + <p> + “We were relieved from our money embarrassments by the timely death of a + rich nobleman, to whose large estate my Lord Delacour was heir-at-law. I + was intoxicated with the idle compliments of all my acquaintance, and I + endeavoured to console myself for misery at home by gaiety abroad. + Ambitious of pleasing universally, I became the worst of slaves—-a + slave to the world. Not a moment of my time was at my own disposal—not + one of my actions; I may say, not one of my thoughts was my own; I was + obliged to find things ‘charming’ every hour, which tired me to death; and + every day it was the same dull round of hypocrisy and dissipation. You + wonder to hear me speak in this manner, Belinda—but one must speak + the truth sometimes; and this is what I have been saying to Harriot Freke + continually, for these ten years past. Then why persist in the same kind + of life? you say. Why, my dear, because I could not stop: I was fit for + this kind of life and for no other: I could not be happy at <i>home</i>; + for what sort of a companion could I have made of Lord Delacour? By this + time he was tired of his horse Potatoe, and his horse Highflyer, and his + horse Eclipse, and Goliah, and Jenny Grey, &c.; and he had taken to + hard drinking, which soon turned him, as you see, quite into a beast. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to tell you that I had three children during the first five + years of my marriage. The first was a boy: he was born dead; and my lord, + and all his odious relations, laid the blame upon me, because I would not + be kept prisoner half a year by an old mother of his, a vile Cassandra, + who was always prophesying that my child would not be born alive. My + second child was a girl; but a poor diminutive, sickly thing. It was the + fashion at this time for fine mothers to suckle their own children: so + much the worse for the poor brats. Fine nurses never made fine children. + There was a prodigious rout made about the matter; a vast deal of + sentiment and sympathy, and compliments and inquiries; but after the + novelty was over, I became heartily sick of the business; and at the end + of about three months my poor child was sick too—I don’t much like + to think of it—it died. If I had put it out to nurse, I should have + been thought by my friends an unnatural mother; but I should have saved + its life. I should have bewailed the loss of the infant more, if Lord + Delacour’s relations and my own had not made such lamentations upon the + occasion that I was stunned. I couldn’t or wouldn’t shed a tear; and I + left it to the old dowager to perform in public, as she wished, the part + of chief mourner, and to comfort herself in private by lifting up her + hands and eyes, and railing at me as the most insensible of mothers. All + this time I suffered more than she did; but that is what she shall never + have the satisfaction of knowing. I determined, that if ever I had another + child, I would not have the barbarity to nurse it myself. Accordingly when + my third child, a girl, was born, I sent it off immediately to the + country, to a stout, healthy, broad-faced nurse, under whose care it grew + and flourished; so that at three years old, when it was brought back to + me, I could scarcely believe the chubby little thing was my own child. The + same reasons which convinced me I ought not to nurse my own child, + determined me, <i>à plus forte raison</i>, not to undertake its education. + Lord Delacour could not bear the child, because it was not a boy. The girl + was put under the care of a governess, who plagued my heart out with her + airs and tracasseries for three or four years; at the end of which time, + as she turned out to be Lord Delacour’s mistress in form, I was obliged—in + form—to beg she would leave my house: and I put her pupil into + better hands, I hope, at a celebrated academy for young ladies. There she + will, at any rate, be better instructed than she could be at home. I beg + your pardon, my dear, for this digression on nursing and schooling; but I + wanted only to explain to you why it was that, when I was weary of the + business, I still went on in a course of dissipation. You see I had + nothing at home, either in the shape of husband or children, to engage my + affections. I believe it was this ‘aching void’ in my heart which made me, + after looking abroad some time for a bosom friend, take such a prodigious + fancy to Mrs. Freke. She was just then coming into fashion; she struck me, + the first time I met her, as being downright ugly; but there was a wild + oddity in her countenance which made one stare at her, and she was + delighted to be stared at, especially by me; so we were mutually agreeable + to each other—I as starer, and she as staree. Harriot Freke had, + without comparison, more assurance than any man or woman I ever saw; she + was downright brass, but of the finest kind—Corinthian brass. She + was one of the first who brought what I call <i>harum scarum</i> manners + into fashion. I told you that she had assurance—<i>impudence</i> I + should have called it, for no other word is strong enough. Such things as + I have heard Harriot Freke say!—-You will not believe it—but + her conversation at first absolutely made me, like an old-fashioned fool, + wish I had a fan to play with. But, to my astonishment, all this <i>took</i> + surprisingly with a set of fashionable young men. I found it necessary to + <i>reform</i> my manners. If I had not taken heart of grace, and publicly + abjured the heresies of <i>false delicacy</i>, I should have been + excommunicated. Lady Delacour’s sprightly elegance—allow me to speak + of myself in the style in which the newspaper writers talk of me—Lady + Delacour’s sprightly elegance was but pale, not to say <i>faded</i> pink, + compared with the scarlet of Mrs. Freke’s dashing audacity. As my rival, + she would on certain ground have beat me hollow; it was therefore good + policy to make her my friend: we joined forces, and nothing could stand + against us. But I have no right to give myself credit for good policy in + forming this intimacy; I really followed the dictates of my heart or my + imagination. There was a frankness in Harriot’s manner which I mistook for + artlessness of character: she spoke with such unbounded freedom on certain + subjects, that I gave her credit for unbounded sincerity on all subjects: + she had the talent of making the world believe <i>that</i> virtue to be + invulnerable by nature which disdained the common outworks of art for its + defence. I, amongst others, took it for granted, that the woman who could + make it her sport to ‘touch the brink of all we hate,’ must have a + stronger head than other people. I have since been convinced, however, of + my mistake. I am persuaded that few can touch the brink without tumbling + headlong down the precipice. Don’t apply this, my dear, <i>literally</i>, + to the person of whom we were speaking; I am not base enough to betray her + secrets, however I may have been provoked by her treachery. Of her + character and history you shall hear nothing but what is necessary for my + own justification. The league of amity between us was scarcely ratified + before my Lord Delacour came, with his wise remonstrating face, to beg me + ‘to consider what was due to my own honour and his.’ Like the + cosmogony-man in the Vicar of Wakefield, he came out over and over with + this cant phrase, which had once stood him in stead. ‘Do you think, my + lord,’ said I, ‘that because I gave up poor Lawless to oblige you, I shall + give up all common sense to suit myself to your taste? Harriot Freke is + visited by every body but old dowagers and old maids: I am neither an old + dowager nor an old maid—the consequence is obvious, my lord.’ + Pertness in dialogue, my dear, often succeeds better with my lord than + wit: I therefore saved the sterling gold, and bestowed upon him nothing + but counters. I tell you this to save the credit of my taste and judgment. + </p> + <p> + “But to return to my friendship for Harriot Freke. I, of course, repeated + to her every word which had passed between my husband and me. She + out-heroded Herod upon the occasion; and laughed so much at what she + called my folly in <i>pleading guilty</i> in the Lawless cause, that I was + downright ashamed of myself, and, purely to prove my innocence, I + determined, upon the first convenient opportunity, to renew my intimacy + with the colonel. The opportunity which I so ardently desired of redeeming + my independence was not long wanting. Lawless, as my stars (which you know + are always more in fault than ourselves) would have it, returned just at + this time from the continent, where he had been with his regiment; he + returned with a wound across his forehead and a black fillet, which made + him look something more like a hero, and ten times more like a coxcomb, + than ever. He was in fashion, at all events; and amongst other ladies, + Mrs. Luttridge, odious Mrs. Luttridge! smiled upon him. The colonel, + however, had taste enough to know the difference between smile and smile: + he laid himself and his laurels at my feet, and I carried him and them + about in triumph. Wherever I went, especially to Mrs. Luttridge’s, envy + and scandal joined hands to attack me, and I heard wondering and + whispering wherever I went. I had no object in view but to provoke my + husband; therefore, conscious of the purity of my intentions, it was my + delight to brave the opinion of the wondering world. I gave myself no + concern about the effect my coquetry might have upon the object of this + flirtation. Poor Lawless! Heart, I took it for granted, he had none; how + should a coxcomb come by a heart? Vanity I knew he had in abundance, but + this gave me no alarm, as I thought that if it should ever make him forget + him self, I mean forget what was due to me, I could, by one flash of my + wit, strike him to the earth, or blast him for ever. One night we had been + together at Mrs. Luttridge’s;—she, amongst other good things, kept a + faro bank, and, I am convinced, cheated. Be that as it may, I lost an + immensity of money, and it was my pride to lose with as much gaiety as any + body else could win; so I was, or appeared to be, in uncommonly high + spirits, and Lawless had his share of my good humour. We left Mrs. + Luttridge’s together early, about half-past one. As the colonel was going + to hand me to my carriage, a smart-looking young man, as I thought, came + up close to the coach door, and stared me full in the face: I was not a + woman to be disconcerted at such a thing as this, but I really was + startled when the young fellow jumped into the carriage after me: I + thought he was mad: I had only courage enough to scream. Lawless seized + hold of the intruder to drag him out, and out he dragged the youth, + exclaiming, in a high tone, ‘What is the meaning of all this, sir? Who the + devil are you? My name’s Lawless: who the devil are you?’ The answer to + this was a convulsion of laughter. By the laugh I knew it to be Harriot + Freke. ‘Who am I? only a Freke!’ cried she: ‘shake hands.’ I gave her my + hand, into the carriage she sprang, and desired the colonel to follow her: + Lawless laughed, we all laughed, and drove away. ‘Where do you think I’ve + been?’ said Harriot; ‘in the gallery of the House of Commons; almost + squeezed to death these four hours; but I swore I’d hear Sheridan’s speech + to-night, and I did; betted fifty guineas I would with Mrs. Luttridge, and + have won. Fun and Freke for ever, huzza!’ Harriot was mad with spirits, + and so noisy and unmanageable, that, as I told her, I was sure she was + drunk. Lawless, in his silly way, laughed incessantly, and I was so taken + up with her oddities, that, for some time, I did not perceive we were + going the Lord knows where; till, at last, when the ‘larum of Harriot’s + voice ceased for an instant, I was struck with the strange sound of the + carriage. ‘Where are we? not upon the stones, I’m sure,’ said I; and + putting my head out of the window, I saw we were beyond the turnpike. ‘The + coachman’s drunk as well as you, Harriot,’ said I; and I was going to pull + the string to stop him, but Harriot had hold of it. ‘The man is going very + right,’ said she; ‘I’ve told him where to go. Now don’t fancy that Lawless + and I are going to run away with you. All this is unnecessary now-a-days, + thank God!’ To this I agreed, and laughed for fear of being ridiculous. + ‘Guess where you are going,’ said Harriot, I guessed and guessed, but + could not guess right; and my merry companions were infinitely diverted + with my perplexity and impatience, more especially as, I believe, in spite + of all my efforts, I grew rather graver than usual. We went on to the end + of Sloane-street, and quite out of town; at last we stopped. It was dark; + the footman’s flambeau was out; I could only just see by the lamps that we + were at the door of a lone, odd-looking house. The house door opened, and + an old woman appeared with a lantern in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where is this farce, or freak, or whatever you call it, to end?’ said I, + as Harriot pulled me into the dark passage along with her. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my dear Belinda,” said Lady Delacour, pausing, “I little foresaw + where or how it was to end. But I am not come yet to the tragical part of + my story, and as long as I can laugh I will. As the old woman and her + miserable light went on before us, I could almost have thought of Sir + Bertrand, or of some German <i>horrifications</i>; but I heard Lawless, + who never could help laughing at the wrong time, bursting behind me, with + a sense of his own superiority. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now you will learn your destiny, Lady Delacour!’ said Harriot, in a + solemn tone. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes! from the celebrated Mrs. W——, the modern dealer in art + magic,’ said I, laughing, ‘for, now I guess whereabouts I am. Colonel + Lawless’s laugh broke the spell. Harriot Freke, never whilst you live + expect to succeed in <i>the sublime</i>.’ Harriot swore at the colonel for + the veriest <i>spoil-sport</i> she had ever seen, and she whispered to me—‘The + reason he laughs is because he is afraid of our suspecting the truth of + him, that he believes <i>tout de bon</i> in conjuration, and the devil, + and all that.’ The old woman, whose cue I found was to be dumb, opened a + door at the top of a narrow staircase, and pointing to a tall figure, + completely enveloped in fur, left us to our fate. I will not trouble you + with a pompous description of all the mummery of the scene, my dear, as I + despair of being able to frighten you out of your wits. I should have been + downright angry with Harriot Freke for bringing me to such a place, but + that I knew women of the first fashion had been with Mrs. W—— + before us—some in sober sadness, some by way of frolic. So as there + was no fear of being ridiculous, there was no shame, you know, and my + conscience was quite at ease. Harriot had no conscience, so she was always + at ease; and never more so than in male attire, which she had been told + became her particularly. She supported the character of a young rake with + such spirit and <i>truth</i>, that I am sure no common conjuror could have + discovered any thing feminine about her. She rattled on with a set of + nonsensical questions; and among other things she asked, ‘How soon will + Lady Delacour marry again after her lord’s death?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘She will never marry after her lord’s death,’ answered the oracle. ‘Then + she will marry during his lifetime,’ said Harriot. ‘True,’ answered the + oracle. Colonel Lawless laughed; I was angry; and the colonel would have + been quiet, for he was a gentleman, but there was no such thing as + managing Mrs. Freke, who, though she had laid aside the modesty of her own + sex, had not acquired the decency of the other. ‘Who is to be Lady + Delacour’s second husband?’ cried she; ‘you’ll not offend any of the + present company by naming the man.’ ‘Her second husband I cannot name,’ + replied the oracle, ‘but let her beware of a Lawless lover.’ Mrs. Freke + and Colonel Lawless, encouraged by her, triumphed over me without mercy—I + may say, without shame! Well, my dear, I am in a hurry to have done with + all this: though I ‘<i>doted upon folly</i>,’ yet I was terrified at the + thoughts of any thing worse. The idea of a divorce, the public brand of a + shameful life, shocked me in spite of all my real and all my assumed + levity. O that I had, at this instant, dared to <i>be myself</i>! But my + fear of ridicule was greater than my fear of vice. ‘Bless me, my dear Lady + Delacour,’ whispered Harriot, as we left this house, ‘what can make you in + such a desperate hurry to get home? You gape and fidget: one would think + you had never sat up a night before in your life. I verily believe you are + afraid to trust yourself with us. Which of us are you afraid of, Lawless, + or me, or <i>yourself</i>?’ There was a tone of contempt in the last words + which piqued me to the quick; and however strange it may seem, I was now + anxious only to convince Harriot that I was not afraid of myself. False + shame made me act as if I had no shame. You would not suspect me of + knowing any thing of false shame, but depend upon it, my dear, many, who + appear to have as much assurance as I have, are secretly its slaves. I + moralize, because I am come to a part of my story which I should almost be + glad to omit; but I promised you that there should be no sins of omission. + It was light, but not broad daylight, when we got to Knightsbridge. + Lawless, encouraged (for I cannot deny it) by the levity of my manner, as + well as of Harriot’s, was in higher and more familiar spirits than I ever + saw him. Mrs. Freke desired me to set her down at her sister’s, who lived + in Grosvenor-place: I did so, and I beg you to believe that I was in an + agony, to get rid of my colonel at the same time; but you know I could + not, before Harriot Freke, absolutely say to him, ‘Get out!’ Indeed, to + tell things as they were, it was scarcely possible to guess by my manner + that I was under any anxiety, I acted my part so well, or so ill. As + Harriot Freke jumped out of the coach, a cock crowed in the area of her + sister’s house: ‘There!’ cried Harriot, ‘do you hear the cock crow, Lady + Delacour? Now it’s to be hoped your fear of goblins is over, else I would + not be so cruel as to leave the pretty dear all alone.’ ‘All alone!’ + answered I: ‘your friend the colonel is much obliged to you for making + nobody of him.’ ‘My friend the colonel,’ whispered Harriot, leaning with + her bold masculine arms on the coach door—‘my friend the colonel is + much obliged to me, I’m sure, for remembering what the cunning or the + knowing woman told us just now: so when I said I left you alone, I was not + guilty of a bull, was I?’ I had the grace to be heartily ashamed of this + speech, and called out, in utter confusion, ‘To Berkley-square. But where + shall I set you down, colonel? Harriot, good morning: don’t forget you are + in man’s clothes.’ I did not dare to repeat the question of ‘where shall I + set you down, colonel?’ at this instant, because Harriot gave me such an + arch, sneering look, as much as to say, ‘Still afraid of yourself!’ We + drove on: I’m persuaded that the confusion which, in spite of all my + efforts, broke through my affected levity, encouraged Lawless, who was + naturally a coxcomb and a fool, to believe that I was actually his, else + he never could have been so insolent. In short, my dear, before we had got + through the turnpike gate, I was downright obliged to say to him, ‘Get + out!’ which I did with a degree of indignation that quite astonished him. + He muttered something about ladies knowing their minds; and I own, though + I went off with flying colours, I secretly blamed myself as much as I did + him, and I blamed Harriot more than I did either. I sent for her the next + day, as soon as I could, to consult her. She expressed such astonishment, + and so much concern at this catastrophe of our night’s frolic, and blamed + herself with so many oaths, and execrated Lawless for a coxcomb, so much + to the ease and satisfaction of my conscience, that I was confirmed in my + good opinion of her, and indeed felt for her the most lively affection and + esteem; for observe, with me esteem ever followed affection, instead of + affection following esteem. Woe be to all who in morals preposterously put + the cart before the horse! But to proceed with my history: all fashionable + historians stop to make reflections, supposing that no one else can have + the sense to make any. My <i>esteemed</i> friend agreed with me that it + would be best for all parties concerned to hush up this business; that as + Lawless was going out of town in a few days, to be elected for a borough, + we should get rid of him in the best way possible, without ‘more last + words;’ that he had been punished sufficiently on the spot, and that to + punish twice for the same offence, once in private and once in public, + would be contrary to the laws of Englishmen and Englishwomen, and in my + case would be contrary to the evident dictates of prudence, because I + could not complain without calling upon Lord Delacour to call Lawless out; + this I could not do without acknowledging that his lordship had been in + the right, in warning me about his <i>honour and my own</i>, which old + phrase I dreaded to hear for the ninety-ninth time: besides, Lord Delacour + was the last man in the world I should have chosen for my knight, though + unluckily he was my lord; besides, all things considered, I thought the + whole story might not tell so well in the world for me, tell it which way + I would: we therefore agreed that it would be most expedient to hold our + tongues. We took it for granted that Lawless would hold his, and as for my + people, they knew nothing, I thought, or if they did, I was sure of them. + How the thing got abroad I could not at the time conceive, though now I am + well acquainted with the baseness and treachery of the woman I called my + friend. The affair was known and talked of every where the next day, and + the story was told especially at odious Mrs. Luttridge’s, with such + exaggerations as drove me almost mad. I was enraged, inconceivably enraged + with Lawless, from whom I imagined the reports originated. + </p> + <p> + “I was venting my indignation against him in a room full of company, where + I had just made my story good, when a gentleman, to whom I was a stranger, + came in breathless, with the news that Colonel Lawless was killed in a + duel by Lord Delacour; that they were carrying him home to his mother’s, + and that the body was just going by the door. The company all crowded to + the windows immediately, and I was left standing alone till I could stand + no longer. What was said or done after this I do not remember; I only know + that when I came to myself, the most dreadful sensation I ever experienced + was the certainty that I had the blood of a fellow-creature to answer for.—I + wonder,” said Lady Delacour, breaking off at this part of her history, and + rising suddenly, “I wonder what is become of Marriott!—surely it is + time for me to have my drops. Miss Portman, have the goodness to ring, for + I <i>must</i> have something immediately.” Belinda was terrified at the + wildness of her manner. Lady Delacour became more composed, or put more + constraint upon herself, at the sight of Marriott. Marriott brought from + the closet in her lady’s room the drops, which Lady Delacour swallowed + with precipitation. Then she ordered coffee, and afterward chasse-café, + and at last, turning to Belinda, with a forced smile, she said— + </p> + <p> + “Now shall the Princess Scheherazade go on with her story?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — LADY DELACOUR’S HISTORY CONTINUED. + </h2> + <p> + “I left off with the true skill of a good story-teller, at the most + interesting part—a duel; and yet duels are so common now that they + are really vulgar incidents. + </p> + <p> + “But we think that a duel concerning ourselves must be more extraordinary + than any other. We hear of men being shot in duels about nothing every + day, so it is really a weakness in me to think so much about poor + Lawless’s death, as Harriot Freke said to me at the time. She expected to + see me show sorrow in <i>public</i>; but very fortunately for me, she + roused my pride, which was always stronger than my reason; and I behaved + myself upon the occasion as became a fine lady. There were some things, + however, I could hardly stand. You must know that Lawless, fool and + coxcomb as he was, had some magnanimity, and showed it—as some + people do from whom it is least expected—on his death-bed. The last + words he said were, ‘Lady Delacour is innocent—I charge you, don’t + prosecute Lord Delacour.’ This he said to his mother, who, to complete my + misery, is one of the most respectable women in England, and was most + desperately fond of Lawless, who was an only son. She never has recovered + his loss. Do you remember asking me who a tall elderly lady in mourning + was, that you saw getting into her carriage one day, at South + Audley-street chapel, as we passed by in our way to the park? That was + Lady Lawless: I believe I didn’t answer you at the time. I meet her every + now and then—to me a spectre of dismay. But, as Harriot Freke said, + certainly such a man as poor Lawless was a useless being in society, + however he may be regretted by a doting mother. We should see things in a + philosophical light, if we can. I should not have suffered half as much as + I did if he had been a man of a stronger understanding; but he was a poor, + vain, weak creature, that I actually drew on and duped with my own + coquetry, whilst all the time I was endeavouring only to plague Lord + Delacour. I was punished enough by the airs his lordship doubly gave + himself, upon the strength of his valour and his judgment—they + roused me completely; and I blamed him with all my might, and got an + enormous party of my friends, I mean my acquaintance, to run him down full + cry, for having fought for me. It was absurd—it was rash—it + was want of proper confidence in his wife; <i>thus we</i> said. Lord + Delacour had his partisans, it is true; amongst whom the loudest was + odious Mrs. Luttridge. I embraced the first opportunity I met with of + retaliation. You must know that Mrs. Luttridge, besides being a great + faro-player, was a great dabbler in politics; for she was almost as fond + of power as of money: she talked loud and fluently, and had, somehow or + other, partly by intriguing, partly by relationship, connected herself + with some of the leading men in parliament. There was to be a contested + election in our country: Mr. Luttridge had a good estate there next to + Lord Delacour’s, and being of an ancient family, and keeping a good table, + the Luttridges were popular enough. At the first news of an election, out + comes a flaming advertisement from Mr. Luttridge; away posted Mrs. + Luttridge to begin her canvass, and away posted Lady Delacour after her, + to canvass for a cousin of Harriot Freke. This was a new scene for me; but + I piqued myself on the versatility of my talents, and I laid myself out in + please all the squires, and, what was more difficult, all the squires’ + ladies, in ——shire. I was ambitious to have it said of me, + ‘that I was the finest figure that ever appeared upon a canvass.’ O, ye + ——shireians, how hard did I work to obtain your praise! All + that the combined force of vanity and hatred could inspire I performed, + and with success. You have but little curiosity, I presume, to know how + many hogsheads of port went down the throat of John Bull, or how many + hecatombs were offered up to the genius of English liberty. My hatred to + Mrs. Luttridge was, of course, called love of my country. Lady Delacour + was deified by all <i>true</i> patriots; and, luckily, a handsome legacy + left me for my spirit, by an uncle who died six weeks before the election, + enabled us to sustain the expense of my apotheosis. The day of election + came; Harriot Freke and I made our appearance on the hustings, dressed in + splendid party uniforms; and before us our knights and squires held two + enormous panniers full of ribands and cockades, which we distributed with + a grace that won all hearts, if not all votes. Mrs. Luttridge thought the + panniers would carry the election; and forthwith she sent off an express + for a pair of panniers twice as large as ours. I took out my pencil, and + drew a caricature of <i>the ass and her panniers</i>; wrote an epigram at + the bottom of it; and the epigram and the caricature were soon in the + hands of half ——shire. The verses were as bad as impromptus + usually are, and the drawing was not much better than the writing; but the + <i>good-will</i> of the critics supplied all my deficiencies; and never + was more praise bestowed upon the pen of Burke, or the pencil of Reynolds, + than was lavished upon me by my honest friends. My dear Belinda, if you + will not quarrel with the quality, you may have what quantity of praise + you please. Mrs. Luttridge, as I hoped and expected, was beyond measure + enraged at the sight of the caricature and epigram. She was, besides being + a gamester and a politician—what do you think?—an excellent + shot! She wished, she said, to be a man, that she might be qualified to + take proper notice of my conduct. The same kind friends who showed her my + epigram repeated to me her observation upon it. Harriot Freke was at my + elbow, and offered to take any <i>message</i> I might think proper to Mrs. + Luttridge. I scarcely thought her in earnest till she added, that the only + way left now-a-days for a woman to distinguish herself was by spirit; as + every thing else was grown ‘cheap and vulgar in the eyes of men;’ that she + knew one of the cleverest young men in England, and a man of fashion into + the bargain, who was just going to publish a treatise ‘upon the Propriety + and Necessity of Female Duelling;’ and that he had demonstrated, beyond a + possibility of doubt, that civilized society could not exist half a + century longer without this necessary improvement. I had prodigious + deference for the masculine superiority, as I thought it, of Harriot’s + understanding. She was a philosopher, and a fine lady—I was only a + fine lady; I had never fired a pistol in my life, and I was a little + inclined to cowardice; but Harriot offered to bet any wager upon the + steadiness of my hand, and assured me that I should charm all beholders in + male attire. In short, as my second, if I would furnish her with proper + credentials, she swore she would undertake to furnish me with clothes, and + pistols, and courage, and every thing I wanted. I sat down to pen my + challenge. When I was writing it, my hand did not tremble <i>much</i>—not + more than my Lord Delacour’s always does. The challenge was very prettily + worded: I believe I can repeat it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Lady Delacour presents her compliments to Mrs. Luttridge—she is + informed that Mrs. L—— wishes she were a man, that she might + be qualified to take <i>proper</i> notice of Lady D——‘s + conduct. Lady Delacour begs leave to assure Mrs. Luttridge, that though + she has the misfortune to be a woman, she is willing to account for her + conduct in any manner Mrs. L—— may think proper, and at any + hour and place she may appoint. Lady D—— leaves the choice of + the weapons to Mrs. L——. Mrs. H. Freke, who has the honour of + presenting this note, is Lady Delacour’s <i>friend</i> upon this + occasion.’ + </p> + <p> + “I cannot repeat Mrs. Luttridge’s answer; all I know is, it was not half + as neatly worded as my note; but the essential part of it was, that she + accepted my challenge <i>with pleasure</i>, and should do herself the + honour of meeting me at six o’clock the next morning; that Miss Honour + O’Grady would be her <i>friend</i> upon the occasion; and that pistols + were the weapons she preferred. The place of appointment was behind an old + barn, about two miles from the town of ——. The hour was fixed + to be early in the morning, to prevent all probability of interruption. In + the evening, Harriot and I rode to the ground. There were several bullets + sticking in the posts of the barn: this was the place where Mrs. Luttridge + had been accustomed to exercise herself in firing at a mark. I own my + courage ‘oozed out’ a little at this sight. The Duke de la Rochefoucault, + I believe, said truly, that ‘many would be cowards if they dared.’ There + seemed to me to be no physical and less moral necessity for my fighting + this duel; but I did not venture to reason on a point of honour with my + spirited second. I bravadoed to Harriot most magnanimously; but at night, + when Marriott was undressing me, I could not forbear giving her a hint, + which I thought might tend to preserve the king’s peace, and the peace of + the county. I went to the ground in the morning in good spirits, and with + a safe conscience. Harriot was in admiration of my ‘lion-port;’ and, to do + her justice, she conducted herself with great coolness upon the occasion; + but then it may be observed, that it was I who was to stand fire, and not + she. I thought of poor Lawless a billion of times, at least, as we were + going to the ground; and I had my presentiments, and my confused notions + of poetic justice: but poetic justice, and all other sorts of justice, + went clear out of my head, when I saw my antagonist and her friend, + actually pistol in hand, waiting for us; they were both in men’s clothes. + I secretly called upon the name of Marriott with fervency, and I looked + round with more anxiety than ever Bluebeard’s wife, or ‘Anne, sister + Anne!’ looked to see if any body was coming: nothing was to be seen but + the grass blown by the wind—no Marriott to throw herself <i>toute + éplorée</i> between the combatants—no peace-officers to bind us over + to our good behaviour—no deliverance at hand; and Mrs. Luttridge, by + all the laws of honour, as challenged, was to have the first shot. Oh, + those laws of honour! I was upon the point of making an apology, in spite + of them all, when, to my inexpressible joy, I was relieved from the + dreadful alternative of being shot through the head, or of becoming a + laughing-stock for life, by an incident, less heroic, I’ll grant you, than + opportune. But you shall have the whole scene, as well as I can recollect + it; <i>as well</i>—for those who for the first time go into a field + of battle do not, as I am credibly informed and internally persuaded, + always find the clearness of their memories improved by the novelty of + their situation. Mrs. Luttridge, when we came up, was leaning, with a + truly martial negligence, against the wall of the barn, with her pistol, + as I told you, in her hand. She spoke not a word; but her second, Miss + Honour O’Grady, advanced towards us immediately, and, taking off her hat + very manfully, addressed herself to my second—‘Mistress Harriot + Freke, I presume, if I mistake not.’ Harriot bowed slightly, and answered, + ‘Miss Honour O’Grady, I presume, if I mistake not.’ ‘The same, at your + service,’ replied Miss Honour. ‘I have a few words to suggest that may + save a great deal of noise, and bloodshed, and ill-will.’ ‘As to noise,’ + said Harriot, ‘it is a thing in which I delight, therefore I beg that + mayn’t be spared on my account; as to bloodshed, I beg that may not be + spared on Lady Delacour’s account, for her honour, I am sure, is dearer to + her than her blood; and, as to ill-will, I should be concerned to have + that saved on Mrs. Luttridge’s account, as we all know it is a thing in + which she delights, even more than I do in noise, or Lady Delacour in + blood: but pray proceed, Miss Honour O’Grady; you have a few words to + suggest.’ ‘Yes, I would willingly observe, as it is my duty to my <i>principal</i>,’ + said Honour, ‘that one who is compelled to fire her pistol with her left + hand, though ever so good a shot <i>naturally</i>, is by no means on a + footing with one who has the advantage of her right hand.’ Harriot rubbed + my pistol with the sleeve of her coat, and I, recovering my wit with my + hopes of being witty with impunity, answered, ‘Unquestionably, left-handed + wisdom and left-handed courage are neither of them the very best of their + kinds; but we must content ourselves with them <i>if</i> we can have no + other.’ ‘That <i>if</i>,’ cried Honour O’Grady, ‘is not, like most of the + family of the <i>ifs</i>, a peace-maker. My Lady Delacour, I was going to + observe that my principal has met with an unfortunate accident, in the + shape of a whitlow on the fore-finger of her right hand, which + incapacitates her from drawing a trigger; but I am at your service, + ladies, either of you, that can’t put up with a disappointment with good + humour.’ I never, during the whole course of my existence, was more + disposed to bear a disappointment with good humour, to prove that I was + incapable of bearing malice; and to oblige the seconds, for form’s sake, I + agreed that we should take our ground, and fire our pistols into the air. + Mrs. Luttridge, with her left-handed wisdom, fired first; and I, with + great magnanimity, followed her example. I must do my adversary’s second, + Miss Honour O’Grady, the justice to observe, that in this whole affair she + conducted herself not only with the spirit, but with the good-nature and + generosity characteristic of her nation. We met enemies, and parted + friends. + </p> + <p> + “Life is a tragicomedy! Though the critics will allow of no such thing in + their books, it is a true representation of what passes in the world; and + of all lives mine has been the most grotesque mixture, or alternation, I + should say, of tragedy and comedy. All this is apropos to something I have + not told you yet. This comic duel ended tragically for me. ‘How?’ you say. + Why, ‘tis clear that I was not shot through the head; but it would have + been better, a hundred times better for me, if I had; I should have been + spared, in this life at least, the torments of the damned. I was not used + to priming and loading: my pistol was overcharged: when I fired, it + recoiled, and I received a blow on my breast, the consequences of which + you have seen. + </p> + <p> + “The pain was nothing at the moment compared with what I have since + experienced: but I will not complain till I cannot avoid it. I had not, at + the time I received the blow, much leisure for lamentation; for I had + scarcely discharged my pistol when we heard a loud shout on the other side + of the barn, and a crowd of town’s people, country people, and haymakers, + came pouring down the lane towards us, with rakes and pitchforks in their + hands. An English mob is really a formidable thing. Marriott had + mismanaged her business most strangely: she had, indeed, spread a report + of a duel—a female duel; but the untutored sense of propriety + amongst these rustics was so shocked at the idea of a duel fought by women + in <i>men’s clothes</i>, that I verily believe they would have thrown us + into the river with all their hearts. Stupid blockheads! I am convinced + that they would not have been half so much scandalized if we had boxed in + petticoats. The want of these petticoats had nearly proved our + destruction, or at least our disgrace: a peeress after being ducked, could + never have held her head above water again with any grace. The mob had + just closed round us, crying, ‘Shame! shame! shame!—duck ‘em—duck + ‘em—gentle or simple—duck ‘em—duck ‘em’—when their + attention was suddenly turned towards a person who was driving up the lane + a large herd of squeaking, grunting pigs. The person was clad in splendid + regimentals, and he was armed with a long pole, to the end of which hung a + bladder, and his pigs were frightened, and they ran squeaking from one + side of the road to the other; and the pig-driver in regimentals, in the + midst of the noise, could not without difficulty make his voice heard; but + at last he was understood to say, that a bet of a hundred guineas depended + upon his being able to keep these pigs ahead of a flock of turkeys that + were following them; and he begged the mob to give him and his pigs fair + play. At the news of this wager, and at the sight of the gentleman turned + pig-driver, the mob were in raptures; and at the sound of his voice, + Harriot Freke immediately exclaimed, ‘Clarence Hervey! by all that’s + lucky!’” + </p> + <p> + “Clarence Hervey!” interrupted Belinda. “Clarence Hervey, my dear,” said + Lady Delacour, coolly: “he can do every thing, you know, even drive pigs, + better than any body else!—but let me go on. + </p> + <p> + “Harriot Freke shouted in a stentorian voice, which actually made your + pig-driver start: she explained to him in French our distress, and the + cause of it, Clarence was, as I suppose you have discovered long ago, + ‘that cleverest young man in England who had written on the propriety and + necessity of female duelling.’ He answered Harriot in French—‘To + attempt your rescue by force would be vain; but I will do better, I will + make a diversion in your favour.’ Immediately our hero, addressing himself + to the sturdy fellow who held me in custody, exclaimed, ‘Huzza, my boys! + Old England for ever! Yonder comes a Frenchman with a flock of turkeys. My + pigs will beat them, for a hundred guineas. Old England for ever, huzza!’ + </p> + <p> + “As he spoke, the French officer, with whom Clarence Hervey had laid the + wager, appeared at the turn of the lane—his turkeys half flying—half + hobbling up the road before him. The Frenchman waved a red streamer over + the heads of his flock—Clarence shook a pole, from the top of which + hung a bladder full of beans. The pigs grunted, the turkeys gobbled, and + the mob shouted: eager for the fame of Old England, the crowd followed + Clarence with loud acclamations. The French officer was followed with + groans and hisses. So great was the confusion, and so great the zeal of + the patriots, that even the pleasure of ducking the female duellists was + forgotten in the general enthusiasm. All eyes and all hearts were intent + upon the race; and now the turkeys got foremost, and now the pigs. But + when we came within sight of the horsepond, I heard one man cry, ‘Don’t + forget the ducking.’ How I trembled! but our knight shouted to his + followers—‘For the love of Old England, my brave boys, keep between + my pigs and the pond:—if our pigs see the water, they’ll run to it, + and England’s undone.’ + </p> + <p> + “The whole fury of the mob was by this speech conducted away from us. ‘On, + on, my boys, into town, to the market-place: whoever gains the + market-place first wins the day.’ Our general shook the rattling bladder + in triumph over the heads of ‘the swinish multitude,’ and we followed in + perfect security in his train into the town. + </p> + <p> + “Men, women, and children, crowded to the windows and doors. ‘Retreat into + the first place you can,’ whispered Clarence to us: we were close to him. + Harriot Freke pushed her way into a milliner’s shop: I could not get in + after her, for a frightened pig turned back suddenly, and almost threw me + down. Clarence Hervey caught me, and favoured my retreat into the shop. + But poor Clarence lost his bet by his gallantry. Whilst he was manoeuvring + in my favour, the turkeys got several yards ahead of the pigs, and + reaching the market-place first, won the race. + </p> + <p> + “The French officer found great difficulty in getting safe out of the + town; but Clarence represented to the mob that he was a prisoner on his + parole, and that it would be unlike Englishmen to insult a prisoner. So he + got off without being pelted, and they both returned in safety to the + house of General Y——, where they were to dine, and where they + entertained a large party of officers with the account of this adventure. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Freke and I rejoiced in our escape, and we thought that the whole + business was now over; but in this we were mistaken. The news of our duel, + which had spread in the town, raised such an uproar as had never been + heard, even at the noisiest election. Would you believe it?—The fate + of the election turned upon this duel. The common people, one and all, + declared that they would not vote either for Mr. Luttridge or Mr. Freke, + because <i>as how</i>—but I need not repeat all the <i>platitudes</i> + that they said. In short, neither ribands nor brandy could bring them to + reason. With true English pig-headedness, they went every man of them and + polled for an independent candidate of their own choosing, whose wife, + forsooth, was a proper behaved woman. + </p> + <p> + “The only thing I had to console me for all this was Clarence Hervey’s + opinion that I looked better in man’s clothes than my friend Harriot + Freke. Clarence was charmed with my spirit and grace; but he had not + leisure at that time to attach himself seriously to me, or to any thing. + He was then about nineteen or twenty: he was all vivacity, presumption, + and paradox; he was enthusiastic in support of his opinions; but he was at + the same time the most candid man in the world, for there was no set of + tenets which could be called exclusively his: he adopted in liberal + rotation every possible absurdity; and, to do him justice, defended each + in its turn with the most ingenious arguments that could be devised, and + with a flow of words which charmed the ear, if not the sense. His essay on + female duelling was a most extraordinary performance; it was handed about + in manuscript till it was worn out; he talked of publishing it, and + dedicating it to me. However, this scheme, amongst a million of others, he + <i>talked of</i>, but never put into execution. Luckily for him, many of + his follies evaporated in words. I saw but little either of him or his + follies at this time. All I know about him is, that after he had lost his + bet of a hundred guineas, as a pig-driver, by his knight-errantry in + rescuing the female duellists from a mob, he wrote a very charming copy of + verses upon the occasion; and that he was so much provoked by the + stupidity of some of his brother officers who could not understand the + verses, that he took a disgust to the army, and sold his commission. He + set out upon a tour to the continent, and I returned with Harriot Freke to + London, and forgot the existence of such a person as Clarence Hervey for + three or four years. Unless people can be of some use, or unless they are + actually present, let them be ever so agreeable or meritorious, we are + very apt to forget them. One grows strangely selfish by living in the + world: ‘tis a perfect cure for romantic notions of gratitude, and love, + and so forth. If I had lived in the country in an old manor-house, + Clarence Hervey would have doubtless reigned paramount in my imagination + as the deliverer of my life, &c. But in London one has no time for + thinking of deliverers. And yet what I did with my time I cannot tell you: + ‘tis gone, and no trace left. One day after another went I know not how. + Had I wept for every day I lost, I’m sure I should have cried my eyes out + before this time. If I had enjoyed any amusement in the midst of this + dissipation, it would all have been very well; but I declare to you in + confidence I have been tired to death. Nothing can be more monotonous than + the life of a hackneyed fine lady;—I question whether a dray-horse, + or—a horse in a mill, would willingly exchange places with one, if + they could know as much of the matter as I do. You are surprised at + hearing all this from me. My dear Belinda, how I envy you! You are not yet + tired of every thing. <i>The world</i> has still the gloss of novelty for + you; but don’t expect that can last above a season. My first winter was + certainly entertaining enough. One begins with being charmed with the + bustle and glare, and what the French call <i>spectacle</i>; this is over, + I think, in six months. I can but just recollect having been amused at the + Theatres, and the Opera, and the Pantheon, and Ranelagh, and all those + places, for their own sakes. Soon, very soon, we go out to see people, not + things: then we grow tired of seeing people; then we grow tired of being + seen by people; and then we go out merely because we can’t stay at home. A + dismal story, and a true one. Excuse me for showing you the simple truth; + well-dressed falsehood is a personage much more <i>presentable</i>. I am + now come to an epoch in my history in which there is a dearth of + extraordinary events. What shall I do? Shall I invent? I would if I could; + but I cannot. Then I must confess to you that during these last four years + I should have died of ennui if I had not been kept alive by my hatred of + Mrs. Luttridge and of my husband. I don’t know which I hate most—O, + yes, I do—I certainly hate Mrs. Luttridge the most; for a woman can + always hate a woman more than she can hate a man, unless she has been in + love with him, which I never was with poor Lord Delacour. Yes! I certainly + hate Mrs. Luttridge the most; I cannot count the number of extravagant + things I have done on purpose to eclipse her. We have had rival routs, + rival concerts, rival galas, rival theatres: she has cost me more than <i>she’s</i> + worth; but then I certainly have mortified her once a month at least. My + hatred to Mrs. Luttridge, my dear, is the remote cause of my love for you; + for it was the cause of my intimacy with your aunt Stanhope.—Mrs. + Stanhope is really a clever woman—she knows how to turn the hatred + of all her friends and acquaintance to her own advantage.—To serve + lovers is a thankless office compared with that of serving <i>haters</i>—polite + haters I mean. It may be dangerous, for aught I know, to interpose in the + quarrels of those who hate their neighbours, not only with all their + souls, but with all their strength—the barbarians fight it out, + kiss, and are friends. The quarrels which never come to blows are safer + for a go-between; but even these are not to be compared to such as never + come to words: your true silent hatred is that which lasts for ever. The + moment it was known that Mrs. Luttridge and I had come to the resolution + never to speak to one another, your aunt Stanhope began to minister to my + hatred so, that she made herself quite agreeable. She one winter gave me + notice that my adversary had set her heart upon having a magnificent + entertainment on a particular day. On that day I determined, of course, to + have a rival gala. Mrs. Stanhope’s maid had a lover, a gardener, who lived + at Chelsea; and the gardener had an aloe, which was expected soon to blow. + Now a plant that blows but once in a hundred years is worth having. The + gardener intended to make a public exhibition of it, by which he expected + to gain about a hundred guineas. Your aunt Stanhope’s maid got it from him + for me for fifty; and I had it whispered about that an aloe in full blow + would stand in the middle of one of Lady Delacour’s supper tables. The + difficulty was to make Mrs. Luttridge fix upon the very day we wanted; for + you know we could not possibly put off the blowing of our aloe. Your aunt + Stanhope managed the thing admirably by means of a <i>common friend</i>, + who was not a suspected person with the Luttridges; in short, my dear, I + gained my point—every body came from Mrs. Luttridge’s to me, or to + my aloe. She had a prodigiously fine supper, but scarcely a soul stayed + with her; they all came to see what could be seen but once in a hundred + years. Now the aloe, you know, is of a cumbersome height for a supper + ornament. My saloon luckily has a dome, and under the dome we placed it. + Round the huge china vase in which it was planted we placed the most + beautiful, or rather the most expensive hothouse plants we could procure. + After all, the aloe was an ugly thing; but it answered my purpose—it + made Mrs. Luttridge, as I am credibly informed, absolutely weep with + vexation. I was excessively obliged to your aunt Stanhope; and I assured + her that if ever it were in my power, she might depend upon my gratitude. + Pray, when you write, repeat the same thing to her, and tell her that + since she has introduced Belinda Portman to me, I am a hundred times more + obliged to her than ever I was before. + </p> + <p> + “But to proceed with my important history.—I will not tire you with + fighting over again all my battles in my seven years’ war with Mrs. + Luttridge. I believe love is more to your taste than hatred; therefore I + will go on as fast as possible to Clarence Hervey’s return from his + travels. He was much improved by them, or at least I thought so; for he + was heard to declare, that after all he had seen in France and Italy, Lady + Delacour appeared to him the most charming woman, <i>of her age</i>, in + Europe. The words, <i>of her age</i>, piqued me; and I spared no pains to + make him forget them. A stupid man cannot readily be persuaded out of his + senses—what he sees he sees, and neither more nor less; but ‘tis the + easiest thing in the world to catch hold of a man of genius: you have + nothing to do but to appeal from his senses to his imagination, and then + he sees with the eyes of his imagination, and hears with the ears of his + imagination; and then no matter what the age, beauty, or wit of the + charmer may be—no matter whether it be Lady Delacour or Belinda + Portman. I think I know Clarence Hervey’s character <i>au fin fond</i>, + and I could lead him where I pleased: but don’t be alarmed, my dear; you + know I can’t lead him into matrimony. You look at me, and from me, and you + don’t well know which way to look. You are surprised, perhaps, after all + that passed, all that I felt, and all that I still feel about poor + Lawless, I should not be cured of coquetry. So am I surprised; but habit, + fashion, the devil, I believe, lead us on: and then, Lord Delacour is so + obstinate and jealous—you can’t have forgotten the <i>polite + conversation</i> that passed one morning at breakfast between his lordship + and me about Clarence Hervey; but neither does his lordship know, nor does + Clarence Hervey suspect, that my object with him is to conceal from the + world what I cannot conceal from myself—that I am a dying woman. I + am, and I see you think me, a strange, weak, inconsistent creature. I was + intended for something better, but now it is too late; a coquette I have + lived, and a coquette I shall die: I speak frankly to you. Let me have the + glory of leading Clarence Hervey about with me in public for a few months + longer, then I must quit the stage. As to love, you know with me that is + out of the question; all I ask or wish for is admiration.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour paused, and leaned back on the sofa; she appeared in great + pain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—I am sometimes,” resumed she, “as you see, in terrible pain. + For two years after I gave myself that blow with the pistol, I neglected + the warning twinges that I felt from time to time; at last I was + terrified. Marriott was the only person to whom I mentioned my fears, and + she was profoundly ignorant: she flattered me with false hopes, till, + alas! it was in vain to doubt of the nature of my complaint: then she + urged me to consult a physician; that I would not do—I could not—I + never will consult a physician,—I would not for the universe have my + situation known. You stare—you cannot enter into my feelings. Why, + my dear, if I lose admiration, what have I left? Would you have me live + upon pity? Consider what a dreadful thing it must be to me, who have no + friends, no family, to be confined to a sick room—a sick bed; ‘tis + what I must come to at last, but not yet—not yet. I have fortitude; + I should despise myself if I had no species of merit: besides, it is still + some occupation to me to act my part in public; and bustle, noise, + nonsense, if they do not amuse or interest me, yet they stifle reflection. + May you never know what it is to feel remorse! The idea of that poor + wretch, Lawless, whom I actually murdered as much as if I had shot him, + haunts me whenever I am alone. It is now between eight and nine years + since he died, and I have lived ever since in a constant course of + dissipation; but it won’t do—conscience, conscience will be heard! + Since my health has been weakened, I believe I have acquired more + conscience. I really think that my stupid lord, who has neither ideas nor + sensations, except when he is intoxicated, is a hundred times happier than + I am. But I will spare you, Belinda; I promised that you should not have a + <i>scene</i>, and I will keep my word. It is, however, a great relief to + open my mind to one who has some feeling: Harriot Freke has none; I am + convinced that she has no more feeling than this table. I have not yet + told you how she has used me. You know that it was she who led or rather + dragged me into that scrape with Lawless; for that I never reproached her. + You know it was she who frightened me into fighting that duel with Mrs. + Luttridge; for this I never reproached her. She has cost me my peace of + mind, my health, my life; she knows it, and she forsakes, betrays, + insults, and leaves me to die. I cannot command my temper sufficiently to + be coherent when I speak of her; I cannot express in words what I feel. + How could that most treacherous of beings, for ten years, make me believe + that she was my friend? Whilst I thought she really loved me, I pardoned + her all her faults—<i>all</i>—what a comprehensive word!—All, + all I forgave; and continually said—‘<i>but</i> she has a good + heart.’ A good heart!—she has no heart!—she has no feeling for + any living creature but herself. I always thought that she cared for no + one but for me; but now I find she can throw me off as easily as she would + her glove. And this, too, I suppose she calls a frolic; or, in her own + vulgar language, fun. Can you believe it?—What do you think she has + done, my dear? She has gone over at last to odious Mrs. Luttridge-actually + she has gone down with the Luttridges to——shire. The + independent member having taken the Chiltern Hundreds, vacates his seat: a + new election comes on directly: the Luttridges are to bring in Freke—not + Harriot’s cousin—they have cut him,—but her husband, who is + now to commence senator: he is to come in for the county, upon condition + that Luttridge shall have Freke’s borough. Lord Delacour, without saying + one syllable, has promised his interest to this precious junto, and Lady + Delacour is left a miserable cipher. My lord’s motives I can clearly + understand: he lost a thousand guineas to Mrs. Luttridge this winter, and + this is a convenient way of paying her. Why Harriot should be so anxious + to serve a husband whom she hates, bitterly hates, might surprise any body + who did not know <i>les dessous des cartes</i> as well as I do. You are + but just come into the world, Belinda—the world of wickedness, I + mean, my dear, or you would have heard what a piece of work there was a + few years ago about Harriot Freke and this cousin of hers. Without + betraying her confidence, I may just tell you what is known to every body, + that she went so far, that if it had not been for me, not a soul would + have visited her: she swam in the sea of folly out of her depth—the + tide of fashion ebbed, and there was she left sticking knee deep in the + mud—a ridiculous, scandalous figure. I had the courage and foolish + good-nature to hazard myself for her, and actually dragged her to terra + firma:—how she has gone on since I <i>cannot</i> tell you precisely, + because I am in the secret; but the catastrophe is public: to make her + peace with her husband, she gives up her friend. Well, that I could have + pardoned, if she had not been so base as to go over to Mrs. Luttridge. + Mrs. Luttridge offered (I’ve seen the letter, and Harriot’s answer) to + bring in Freke, the husband, and to make both a county and a <i>family</i> + peace, on condition that Harriot should give up all connexion with Lady + Delacour. Mrs. Luttridge knew this would provoke me beyond measure, and + there is nothing she would not do to gratify her mean, malevolent + passions. She has succeeded for once in her life. The blame of the duel, + of course, is all thrown upon me. And (would you believe it?) Harriot + Freke, I am credibly informed, throws all the blame of Lawless’s business + on me; nay, hints that Lawless’s deathbed declaration of my innocence was + <i>very generous</i>. Oh, the treachery, the baseness of this woman! And + it was my fate to hear all this last night at the masquerade. I waited, + and waited, and looked every where for Harriot—she was to be the + widow Brady, I knew: at last the widow Brady made her appearance, and I + accosted her with all my usual familiarity. The widow was dumb. I insisted + upon knowing the cause of this sudden loss of speech. The widow took me + into another apartment, unmasked, and there I beheld Mr. Freke, the + husband. I was astonished—had no idea of the truth. ‘Where is + Harriot?’ I believe, were the first words I said. ‘Gone to the country.’ + ‘To the country!’ ‘Yes; to——shire, with Mrs. Luttridge.’—Mrs. + Luttridge—odious Mrs. Luttridge! I could scarcely believe my senses. + But Freke, who always hated me, believing that I led his wife, instead of + her leading me into mischief, would have enjoyed my astonishment and my + rage; so I concealed both, with all possible presence of mind. He went on + over-whelming me with explanations and copies of letters; and declared it + was at Mrs. Freke’s request he did and said all this, and that he was to + follow her early the next morning to ——shire. I broke from + him, simply wishing him a good journey, and as much family peace as his + patience merited. He knows that I know his wife’s history, and though <i>she</i> + has no shame, he has some. I had the <i>satisfaction</i> to leave him + blushing with anger, and I supported the character of the comic muse a + full hour afterwards, to convince him that all their combined malice would + fail to break my spirit in public: what I suffer in private is known only + to my own heart.” + </p> + <p> + As she finished these words, Lady Delacour rose abruptly, and hummed a new + opera air. Then she retired to her boudoir, saying, with an air of levity, + to Belinda as she left the room, + </p> + <p> + “Good bye, my dear Belinda; I leave you to ruminate sweet and bitter + thoughts; to think of the last speech and confession of Lady Delacour, or + what will interest you much more, the first speech and confession of—Clarence + Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — BIRTHDAY DRESSES. + </h2> + <p> + Lady Delacour’s history, and the manner in which it was related, excited + in Belinda’s mind astonishment, pity, admiration, and contempt: + astonishment at her inconsistency, pity for her misfortunes, admiration of + her talents, and contempt for her conduct. To these emotions succeeded the + recollection of the promise which she had made, not to leave her in her + last illness at the mercy of an insolent attendant. This promise Belinda + thought of with terror: she dreaded the sight of sufferings which she knew + must end in death: she dreaded the sight of that affected gaiety and of + that real levity which so ill became the condition of a dying woman. She + trembled at the idea of being under the guidance of one who was so little + able to conduct herself: and she could not help blaming her aunt Stanhope + severely for placing her in such a perilous situation. It was obvious that + some of Lady Delacour’s history must have been known to Mrs. Stanhope; and + Belinda, the more she reflected, was the more surprised at her aunt’s + having chosen such a chaperon for a young woman just entering into the + world. When the understanding is suddenly roused and forced to exert + itself, what a multitude of deductions it makes in a short time! Belinda + saw things in a new light; and for the first time in her life she reasoned + for herself upon what she saw and felt. It is sometimes safer for young + people to see than to hear of certain characters. At a distance, Lady + Delacour had appeared to Miss Portman the happiest person in the world; + upon a nearer view, she discovered that her ladyship was one of the most + miserable of human beings. To have married her niece to such a man as Lord + Delacour, Mrs. Stanhope would have thought the most fortunate thing + imaginable; but it was now obvious to Belinda, that neither the title of + viscountess, nor the pleasure of spending three fortunes, could ensure + felicity. Lady Delacour confessed, that in the midst of the utmost luxury + and dissipation she had been a constant prey to ennui; that the want of + domestic happiness could never be supplied by that public admiration of + which she was so ambitious; and that the immoderate indulgence of her + vanity had led her, by inevitable steps, into follies and imprudences + which had ruined her health, and destroyed her peace of mind. “If Lady + Delacour, with all the advantages of wealth, rank, wit, and beauty, has + not been able to make herself happy in this life of fashionable + dissipation,” said Belinda to herself, “why should I follow the same + course, and expect to be more fortunate?” + </p> + <p> + It is singular, that the very means which Mrs. Stanhope had taken to make + a fine lady of her niece tended to produce an effect diametrically + opposite to what might have been expected. The result of Belinda’s + reflections upon Lady Delacour’s history was a resolution to benefit by + her bad example; but this resolution it was more easy to form than to + keep. Her ladyship, where she wished to please or to govern, had + fascinating manners, and could alternately use the sarcastic powers of + wit, and the fond tone of persuasion, to accomplish her purposes. It was + Belinda’s intention, in pursuance of her new plans of life, to spend, + whilst she remained in London, as little money as possible upon + superfluities and dress. She had, at her own disposal, only 100l. per + annum, the interest of her fortune; but besides this, her aunt, who was + desirous that she should go to court, and make a splendid figure there, + had sent her a draught on her banker for two hundred guineas. “You will, I + trust,” said her aunt, at the conclusion of the letter, “repay me when you + are established in the world; as I hope and believe, from what I hear from + Lady Delacour of the power of your charms, you will soon be, to the entire + satisfaction of all your friends. Pray do not neglect to mention my friend + Clarence Hervey particularly when you write next. I understand from one + who is well acquainted with him, and who has actually seen his rent-roll, + that he has a clear 10,000l. a year.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda resolved neither to go to court, nor to touch her aunt’s two + hundred guineas; and she wrote a long letter to her, in which she + explained her feelings and views at large. In this letter she meant to + have returned Mrs. Stanhope’s draught, but her feelings and views changed + between the writing of this epistle and the going out of the post. Mrs. + Franks, the milliner, came in the interim, and brought home Lady + Delacour’s beautiful dress: it was not the sight of this, however, which + changed Belinda’s mind; but she could not resist Lady Delacour’s raillery. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear,” said her ladyship, after having listened to all Miss + Portman could say about her love of independence, and the necessity of + economy to preserve that independence, “all this is prodigiously fine—but + shall I translate it into plain English? You were mortally wounded the + other night by some random reflections of a set of foolish young men—Clarence + Hervey amongst the number; and instead of punishing them, you sagely and + generously determined to punish yourself. Then, to convince this youth + that you have not a thought of those odious nets and cages, that you have + no design whatever upon his heart, and that he has no manner of influence + on yours, you very judiciously determine, at the first hint from him, to + change your dress, your manners, and your character, and thus to say to + him, in as plain terms as possible—‘You see, sir, a word to the wise + is enough; I understand you disapprove of showy dress and coquetry, and + therefore, as I dressed and coquetted only to please you, now I shall lay + aside dress and coquetry, since I find that they are not to your taste—and + I hope, sir, you like my simplicity!’ Depend upon it, my dear, Clarence + Hervey understands simplicity as well as you or I do. All this would be + vastly well, if he did not know that you overheard that conversation; but + as he does know it, trust me, he will attribute any sudden change in your + manners and appearance, right or wrong, to the motives I have mentioned. + So don’t, novice as you are! set about to manoeuvre for yourself. Leave + all that to your aunt Stanhope, or to me, and then you know your + conscience will be all the time as white as your hands,—which, + by-the-bye, Clarence Hervey, the other day, said were the whitest hands he + had ever seen. Perhaps all this time you have taken it into your head that + full dress will not become you; but I assure you that it will—you + look well in any thing— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘But from the hoop’s bewitching round, + The very shoe has power to wound.’ +</pre> + <p> + So come down to Mrs. Franks, and order your birthnight dress like a + reasonable creature.” + </p> + <p> + Like a reasonable creature, Miss Portman followed Lady Delacour, and + bespoke, or rather let her ladyship bespeak for her, fifty guineas’ worth + of elegance and fashion. “You must go to the drawing-room with me next + week, and be presented,” said Lady Delacour, “and then, as it is the first + time, you must be elegantly dressed, and you must not wear the same dress + on the birthnight. So, Mrs. Franks, let this be finished first, as fast as + you can, and by that time, perhaps, we shall think of something + superlatively charming for the night of nights.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Franks departed, and Belinda sighed. “A silver penny for your + thoughts!” cried Lady Delacour. “You are thinking that you are like + Camilla, and I like Mrs. Mitten. Novel reading.—as I dare say you + have been told by your governess, as I was told by mine, and she by hers, + I suppose—novel reading for young ladies is the most dangerous—— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Clarence Hervey, I protest!” cried Lady Delacour, as he at this + instant entered the room. “Do, pray, Clarence, help me out, for the sake + of this young lady, with a moral sentence against novel reading: but that + might go against your conscience, or your interest; so we’ll spare you. + How I regret that we had not the charming serpent at the masquerade the + other night!” + </p> + <p> + The moment her ladyship mentioned the masquerade, the conversation which + had passed at Lady Singleton’s came full into Clarence Hervey’s + recollection, and his embarrassment was evident—not indeed to + Belinda, who had turned away to look over some new music that lay upon a + stand at the farthest end of the room; and she found this such a + wonderfully interesting occupation, that she did not for some minutes + hear, or appear to hear, one word of the conversation which was going on + between Mr. Hervey and Lady Delacour. At last, her ladyship tapped her + upon the shoulder, saying, in a playful tone, “Miss Portman, I arrest your + attention at the suit of Clarence Hervey: this gentleman is passionately + fond of music—to my curse—for he never sees my harp but he + worries me with reproaches for having left off playing upon it. Now he has + just given me his word that he will not reproach me again for a month to + come if you will favour us with one air. I assure you, Clarence, that + Belinda touches a harp divinely—she would absolutely charm——” + “Your ladyship should not waste such valuable praise,” interrupted + Belinda. “Do you forget that Belinda Portman and her accomplishments have + already been as well advertised as Packwood’s razor-strops?” + </p> + <p> + The manner in which these words were pronounced made a great impression + upon Clarence Hervey, and he began to believe it was possible that a niece + of the match-making Mrs. Stanhope might not be “a compound of art and + affectation.” “Though her aunt has advertised her,” said he to himself, + “she seems to have too much dignity to advertise herself, and it would be + very unjust to blame her for the faults of another person. I will see more + of her.” + </p> + <p> + Some morning visitors were announced, who for the time suspended Clarence + Hervey’s reflections: the effect of them, however, immediately appeared; + for as his good opinion of Belinda increased, his ambition to please her + was strongly excited. He displayed all his powers of wit and humour; and + not only Lady Delacour but every body present observed, “that Mr. Hervey, + who was always the most entertaining man in the world, this morning + surpassed himself, and was absolutely the most entertaining man in the + universe.” He was mortified, notwithstanding; for he distinctly perceived, + that whilst Belinda joined with ease and dignity in the general + conversation, her manner towards him was grave and reserved. The next + morning he called earlier than usual; but though Lady Delacour was always + at home to him, she was then unluckily dressing to go to court: he + inquired whether Miss Portman would accompany her ladyship, and he learnt + from his friend Marriott that she was not to be presented this day, + because Mrs. Franks had not brought home her dress. Mr. Hervey called + again two hours afterwards.—Lady Delacour was gone to court. He + asked for Miss Portman. “Not at home,” was the mortifying answer; though, + as he had passed by the windows, he had heard the delightful sound of her + harp. He walked up and down in the square impatiently, till he saw Lady + Delacour’s carriage appear. + </p> + <p> + “The drawing-room has lasted an unconscionable time this morning,” said + he, as he handed her ladyship out of her coach, “Am not I the most + virtuous of virtuous women,” said Lady Delacour, “to go to court such a + day as this? But,” whispered she, as she went up stairs, “like all other + amazingly good people, I have amazingly good reasons for being good. The + queen is soon to give a charming breakfast at Frogmore, and I am paying my + court with all my might, in hopes of being asked; for Belinda must see one + of their galas before we leave town, <i>that</i> I’m determined upon.—But + where is she?” “Not at home,” said Clarence, smiling. “Oh, not at home is + nonsense, you know. Shine out, appear, be found, my lovely Zara!” cried + Lady Delacour, opening the library door. “Here she is—what doing I + know not—studying Hervey’s Meditations on the Tombs, I should guess, + by the sanctification of her looks. If you be not totally above all + sublunary considerations, admire my lilies of the valley, and let me give + you a lecture, not upon heads, or upon hearts, but on what is of much more + consequence, upon hoops. Every body wears hoops, but how few—‘tis a + melancholy consideration—how very few can manage them! There’s my + friend Lady C——; in an elegant undress she passes for very + genteel, but put her into a hoop and she looks as pitiable a figure, as + much a prisoner, and as little able to walk, as a child in a go-cart. She + gets on, I grant you, and so does the poor child; but, getting on, you + know, is not walking. Oh, Clarence, I wish you had seen the two Lady R.‘s + sticking close to one another, their father pushing them on together, like + two decanters in a bottle-coaster, with such magnificent diamond labels + round their necks!” + </p> + <p> + Encouraged by Clarence Hervey’s laughter, Lady Delacour went on to mimic + what she called the hoop awkwardness of all her acquaintance; and if these + could have failed to divert Belinda, it was impossible for her to be + serious when she heard Clarence Hervey declare that he was convinced he + could manage a hoop as well as any woman in England, except Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Now here,” said he, “is the purblind dowager, Lady Boucher, just at the + door, Lady Delacour; she would not know my face, she would not see my + beard, and I will bet fifty guineas that I come into a room in a hoop, and + that she does not find me out by my air—that I do not betray myself, + in short, by my masculine awkwardness.” + </p> + <p> + “I hold you to your word, Clarence,” cried Lady Delacour. “They have let + the purblind dowager in; I hear her on the stairs. Here—through this + way you can go: as you do every thing quicker than any body else in the + world, you will certainly be full dressed in a quarter of an hour; I’ll + engage to keep the dowager in scandal for that time. Go! Marriott has old + hoops and old finery of mine, and you have all-powerful influence, I know, + with Marriott: so go and use it, and let us see you in all your glory—though + I vow I tremble for my fifty guineas.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour kept the dowager in scandal, according to her engagement, + for a good quarter of an hour; then the dresses at the drawing-room took + up another quarter; and, at last, the dowager began to give an account of + sundry wonderful cures that had been performed, to her certain knowledge, + by her favourite concentrated extract or anima of quassia. She entered + into the history of the negro slave named Quassi, who discovered this + medical wood, which he kept a close secret till Mr. Daghlberg, a + magistrate of Surinam, wormed it out of him, brought a branch of the tree + to Europe, and communicated it to the great Linnaeus—when Clarence + Hervey was announced by the title of “The Countess de Pomenars.” + </p> + <p> + “An émigrée—a charming woman!” whispered Lady Delacour “she was to + have been at the drawing-room to-day but for a blunder of mine: ready + dressed she was, and I didn’t call for her! Ah, Mad. de Pomenars, I am + actually ashamed to see you,” continued her ladyship; and she went forward + to meet Clarence Hervey, who really made his entrée with very composed + assurance and grace. He managed his hoop with such skill and dexterity, + that he well deserved the praise of being a universal genius. The Countess + de Pomenars spoke French and broken English incomparably well, and she + made out that she was descended from the Pomenars of the time of Mad. de + Sevigné: she said that she had in her possession several original letters + of Mad. de Sevigné, and a lock of Mad. de Grignan’s fine hair. + </p> + <p> + “I have sometimes fancied, but I believe it is only my fancy,” said Lady + Delacour, “that this young lady,” turning to Belinda, “is not unlike your + Mad. de Grignan. I have seen a picture of her at Strawberry-hill.” + </p> + <p> + Mad. de Pomenars acknowledged that there was a resemblance, but added, + that it was flattery in the extreme to Mad. de Grignan to say so. + </p> + <p> + “It would be a sin, undoubtedly, to waste flattery upon the dead, my dear + countess,” said Lady Delacour; “but here, without flattery to the living, + as you have a lock of Mad. de Grignan’s hair, you can tell us whether <i>la + belle chevelure</i>, of which Mad. de Sevigné talked so much, was any + thing to be compared to my Belinda’s.” As she spoke, Lady Delacour, before + Belinda was aware of her intentions, dexterously let down her beautiful + tresses; and the Countess de Pomenars was so much struck at the sight, + that she was incapable of paying the necessary compliments. “Nay, touch + it,” said Lady Delacour—“it is so fine and so soft.” + </p> + <p> + At this dangerous moment her ladyship artfully let drop the comb. Clarence + Hervey suddenly stooped to pick it up, totally forgetting his hoop and his + character. He threw down the music-stand with his hoop. Lady Delacour + exclaimed “Bravissima!” and burst out a-laughing. Lady Boucher, in + amazement, looked from one to another for an explanation, and was a + considerable time before, as she said, she could believe her own eyes. + Clarence Hervey acknowledged he had lost his bet, joined in the laugh, and + declared that fifty guineas was too little to pay for the sight of the + finest hair that he had ever beheld. “I declare he deserves a lock of <i>la + belle chevelure</i> for that speech, Miss Portman,” cried Lady Delacour; + “I’ll appeal to all the world—Mad. de Pomenars must have a lock to + measure with Mad. de Grignan’s? Come, a second rape of the lock, Belinda.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately for Belinda, “the glittering forfex” was not immediately + produced, as fine ladies do not now, as in former times, carry any such + useless implements about with them. + </p> + <p> + Such was the modest, graceful dignity of Miss Portman’s manners, that she + escaped without even the charge of prudery. She retired to her own + apartment as soon as she could. + </p> + <p> + “She passes on in unblenched majesty,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “She is really a charming woman,” said Clarence Hervey, in a low voice, to + Lady Delacour, drawing her into a recessed window: he in the same low + voice continued, “Could I obtain a private audience of a few minutes when + your ladyship is at leisure?—I have—” “I am never at leisure,” + interrupted Lady Delacour; “but if you have any thing particular to say to + me—as I guess you have, by my skill in human nature—come here to my + concert to-night, before the rest of the world. Wait patiently in the + music-room, and perhaps I may grant you a private audience, as you had the + grace not to call it a <i>tête-à-tête</i>. In the mean time, my dear + Countess de Pomenars, had we not better take off our hoops?” In the + evening, Clarence Hervey was in the music-room a considerable time before + Lady Delacour appeared: how patiently he waited is not known to any one + but himself. + </p> + <p> + “Have not I given you time to compose a charming speech?” said Lady + Delacour as she entered the room; “but make it as short as you can, unless + you wish that Miss Portman should hear it, for she will be down stairs in + three minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “In one word, then, my dear Lady Delacour, can you, and will you, make my + peace with Miss Portman?—I am much concerned about that foolish + razor-strop dialogue which she overheard at Lady Singleton’s.” + </p> + <p> + “You are concerned that she overheard it, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Clarence Hervey, “I am rejoiced that she overheard it, since it + has been the means of convincing me of my mistake; but I am concerned that + I had the presumption and injustice to judge of Miss Portman so hastily. I + am convinced that, though she is a niece of Mrs. Stanhope’s, she has + dignity of mind and simplicity of character. Will you, my dear Lady + Delacour, tell her so?” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “let me get it by heart. I should have + made a terrible bad messenger of the gods and goddesses, for I never in my + life could, like Iris, repeat a message in the same words in which it was + delivered to me. Let me see—‘Dignity of mind and simplicity of + character,’ was not it? May not I say at once, ‘My dear Belinda, Clarence + Hervey desires me to tell you that he is convinced you are an angel?’ That + single word <i>angel</i> is so expressive, so comprehensive, so + comprehensible, it contains, believe me, all that can be said or imagined + on these occasions, <i>de part et d’autre</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Mr. Hervey, “perhaps Miss Portman has heard the song of— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘What know we of angels?— I spake it in jest.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Then you are not in jest, but in downright sober earnest?—Ha!” said + Lady Delacour, with an arch look, “I did not know it was already come to + <i>this</i> with you.” + </p> + <p> + And her ladyship, turning to her piano-forte, played— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “There was a young man in Ballinacrasy, + Who wanted a wife to make him un<i>asy</i>, + And thus in gentle strains he spoke her, + Arrah, will you marry me, my dear Ally Croker?” + </pre> + <p> + “No, no,” exclaimed Clarence, laughing, “it is not come to <i>that</i> + with me yet, Lady Delacour, I promise you; but is not it possible to say + that a young lady has dignity of mind and simplicity of character without + having or suggesting any thoughts of marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “You make a most proper, but not sufficiently emphatic difference between + having or suggesting such thoughts,” said Lady Delacour. “A gentleman + sometimes finds it for his interest, his honour, or his pleasure, to + suggest what he would not for the world promise,—I mean perform.” + </p> + <p> + “A scoundrel,” cried Clarence Hervey, “not a gentleman, may find it for + his honour, or his interest, or his pleasure, to promise what he would not + perform; but I am not a scoundrel. I never made any promise to man or + woman that I did not keep faithfully. I am not a swindler in love.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Lady Delacour, “you would have no scruple to trifle or + flatter a woman out of her heart.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Cela est selon!”</i> said Clarence smiling; “a fair exchange, you + know, is no robbery. When a fine woman robs me of my heart, surely Lady + Delacour could not expect that I should make no attempt upon hers.”—“Is + this part of my message to Miss Portman?” said Lady Delacour. “As your + ladyship pleases,” said Clarence; “I trust entirely to your discretion.” + </p> + <p> + “Why I really have a great deal of discretion,” said Lady Delacour; “but + you trust too much to it when you expect that I should execute, both with + propriety and success, the delicate commission of telling a young lady, + who is under my protection, that a young gentleman, who is a professed + admirer of mine, is in love with her, but has no thoughts, and wishes to + suggest no thoughts, of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “In love!” exclaimed Clarence Hervey; “but when did I ever use the + expression? In speaking of Miss Portman, I simply expressed esteem and ad————” + </p> + <p> + “No additions,” said Lady Delacour; “content yourself with esteem—simply,—and + Miss Portman is safe, and you too, I presume. Apropos; pray, Clarence, how + do your esteem and <i>admiration</i> (I may go as far as that, may not I?) + of Miss Portman agree with your admiration of Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly well,” replied Clarence; “for all the world must be sensible + that Clarence Hervey is a man of too much taste to compare a country + novice in wit and accomplishments to Lady Delacour. He might, as men of + genius sometimes do, look forward to the idea of forming a country novice + for a wife. A man must marry some time or other—but my hour, thank + Heaven, is not come yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven!” said Lady Delacour; “for you know a married man is lost to + the world of fashion and gallantry.” + </p> + <p> + “Not more so, I should hope, than a married woman,” said Clarence Harvey. + Here a loud knocking at the door announced the arrival of company to the + concert. “You will make my peace, you promise me, with Miss Portman,” + cried Clarence eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will make your peace, and you shall see Belinda smile upon you + once more, upon condition,” continued Lady Delacour, speaking very + quickly, as if she was hurried by the sound of people coming up stairs—“but + we’ll talk of that another time.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, my dear Lady Delacour, now, now,” said Clarence, seizing her + hand.—“Upon condition! upon what condition?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon condition that you do a little job for me—indeed for Belinda. + She is to go with me to the birth-night, and she has often hinted to me + that our horses are shockingly shabby for people of our condition. I know + she wishes that upon such an occasion—her first appearance at court, + you know—we should go in style. Now my dear positive lord has <i>said</i> + he will not let us have a pair of the handsomest horses I ever saw, which + are at Tattersal’s, and on which Belinda, I know, has secretly set her + heart, as I have openly, in vain.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship and Miss Portman cannot possibly set your hearts on any + thing in vain—especially on any thing that it is in the power of + Clarence Hervey to procure. Then,” added he, gallantly kissing her hand, + “may I thus seal my treaty of peace?” + </p> + <p> + “What audacity!—don’t you see these people coming in?” cried Lady + Delacour; and she withdrew her hand, but with no great precipitation. She + was evidently, “at this moment, as in all the past,” neither afraid nor + ashamed that Mr. Hervey’s devotions to her should be paid in public. With + much address she had satisfied herself as to his views with respect to + Belinda. She was convinced that he had no immediate thoughts of matrimony; + but that if he were condemned to marry, Miss Portman would be his wife. As + this did not interfere with her plans, Lady Delacour was content. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — WAYS AND MEANS. + </h2> + <p> + When Lady Delacour repeated to Miss Portman the message about “simplicity + of mind and dignity of character,” she frankly said— + </p> + <p> + “Belinda, notwithstanding all this, observe, I’m determined to retain + Clarence Hervey among the number of my public worshippers during my life—which + you know cannot last long. After I am gone, my dear, he’ll be all your + own, and of that I give you joy. Posthumous fame is a silly thing, but + posthumous jealousy detestable.” + </p> + <p> + There was one part of the conversation between Mr. Hervey and her ladyship + which she, in her great discretion, did not immediately repeat to Miss + Portman—that part which related to the horses. In this transaction + Belinda had no farther share than having once, when her ladyship had the + handsome horses brought for her to look at, assented to the opinion that + they were the handsomest horses she ever beheld. Mr. Hervey, however + gallantly he replied to her ladyship, was secretly vexed to find that + Belinda had so little delicacy as to permit her name to be employed in + such a manner. He repented having used the improper expression of <i>dignity + of mind</i>, and he relapsed into his former opinion of Mrs. Stanhope’s + niece. A relapse is always more dangerous than the first disease. He sent + home the horses to Lady Delacour the next day, and addressed Belinda, when + he met her, with the air of a man of gallantry, who thought that his peace + had been cheaply made. But in proportion as his manners became more + familiar, hers grew more reserved. Lady Delacour rallied her upon <i>her + prudery</i>, but in vain. Clarence Hervey seemed to think that her + ladyship had not fulfilled her part of the bargain.—“Is not <i>smiling</i>,” + said he, “the epithet always applied to peace? yet I have not been able to + obtain one smile from Miss Portman since I have been promised peace.” + Embarrassed by Mr. Hervey’s reproaches, and provoked to find that Belinda + was proof against all her raillery, Lady Delacour grew quite ill-humoured + towards her. Belinda, unconscious of having given any just cause of + offence, was unmoved; and her ladyship’s embarrassment increased. At last, + resuming all her former appearance of friendship and confidence, she + suddenly exclaimed one night after she had flattered Belinda into high + spirits— + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my dear, that I have been so ashamed of myself + for this week past, that I have hardly dared to look you in the face. I am + sensible I was downright rude and cross to you one day, and ever since I + have been penitent; and, as all penitents are, very stupid and + disagreeable, I am sure: but tell me you forgive my caprice, and Lady + Delacour will be herself again.” + </p> + <p> + It was not difficult to obtain Belinda’s forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” continued Lady Delacour, “you are too good; but then in my own + justification I must say, that I have more things to make me ill-humoured + than most people have. Now, my dear, that most obstinate of human beings, + Lord Delacour, has reduced me to the most terrible situation—I have + made Clarence Hervey buy a pair of horses for me, and I cannot make my + Lord Delacour pay for them; but I forgot to tell you that I took your name—not + in vain indeed—in this business. I told Clarence, that upon + condition he would do this <i>job</i> for me, you would forgive him for + all his sins, and—nay, my dear, why do you look as if I had stabbed + you to the heart?—after all, I only drew upon your pretty mouth for + a few smiles. Pray let me see whether it has actually forgotten <i>how</i> + to smile.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda was too much vexed at this instant to understand raillery. She was + inspired by anger with unwonted courage, and, losing all fear of Lady + Delacour’s wit, she very seriously expostulated with her ladyship upon + having thus used her name without her consent or knowledge. Belinda felt + she was now in danger of being led into a situation which might be fatal + to her reputation and her happiness; and she was the more surprised at her + ladyship, when she recollected the history she had so lately heard of + Harriot Freke and Colonel Lawless. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot but be sensible, Lady Delacour,” said Belinda, “that after the + contempt I have heard Mr. Hervey express for match-making with Mrs. + Stanhope’s nieces, I should degrade myself by any attempts to attract his + attention. No wit, no eloquence, can change my opinion upon this subject—I + cannot endure contempt.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely—no doubt”—interrupted Lady Delacour; “but if you + would only open your eyes, which heroines make it a principle never to do—or + else there would be an end of the novel—if you would only open your + eyes, you would see that this man is in love with you; and whilst you are + afraid of his contempt, he is a hundred times more afraid of yours; and as + long as you are each of you in such fear of you know not what, you must + excuse me if I indulge myself in a little wholesome raillery.”—Belinda + smiled.—“There now; one such smile as that for Clarence Hervey, and + I’m out of debt and danger,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “O Lady Delacour, why, why will you try your power over me in this + manner?” said Belinda. “You know that I ought not to be persuaded to do + what I am conscious is wrong. But a few days ago you told me yourself that + Mr. Hervey is—is not a marrying man; and a woman of your penetration + must see that—that he only means to flirt with me. I am not a match + for Mr. Hervey in any respect. He is a man of wit and gallantry—I am + unpractised in the ways of the world. I was not educated by my aunt + Stanhope—I have only been with her a few years—I wish I had + never been with her in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take care Mr. Hervey shall know that,” said Lady Delacour; “but in + the mean time I do think any fair appraiser of delicate distresses would + decide that I am, all the circumstances considered, more to be pitied at + this present moment than you are: for the catastrophe of the business + evidently is, that I must pay two hundred guineas for the horses somehow + or other.” + </p> + <p> + “I can pay for them,” exclaimed Belinda, “and will with the greatest + pleasure. I will not go to the birthnight—my dress is not bespoke. + Will two hundred guineas pay for the horses? Oh, take the money—pay + Mr. Hervey, dear Lady Delacour, and it will all be right.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a charming girl,” said Lady Delacour, embracing her; “but how can + I answer for it to my conscience, or to your aunt Stanhope, if you don’t + appear on the birthnight? That cannot be, my dear; besides, you know Mrs. + Franks will send home your drawing-room dress to-day, and it would be so + foolish to be presented for nothing—not to go to the birthnight + afterwards. If you say <i>a</i> you must say <i>b.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Belinda, “I will not go to the drawing-room.”—“Not go, + my dear! What! throw away fifty guineas for nothing! Really I never saw + any one so lavish of her money, and so economic of her smiles.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said Miss Portman, “it is better for me to throw away fifty + guineas, poor as I am, than to hazard the happiness of my life. Your + ladyship knows that if I say <i>a</i> to Mr. Hervey, I must say <i>b</i>. + No, no, my dear Lady Delacour; here is the draught for two hundred + guineas: pay Mr. Hervey, for Heaven’s sake, and there is an end of the + business.” + </p> + <p> + “What a positive child it is! Well, then, it shall not be forced to say + the a, b, c, of Cupid’s alphabet, to that terrible pedagogue, Clarence + Hervey, till it pleases: but seriously, Miss Portman, I am concerned that + you will make me take this draught: it is absolutely robbing you. But Lord + Delacour’s the person you must blame—it is all his obstinacy: having + once said he would not pay for the horses, he would see them and me and + the whole human race expire before he would change his silly mind.—Next + month I shall have it in my power, my dear, to repay you with a thousand + thanks; and in a few months more we shall have another birthday, and a new + star shall appear in the firmament of fashion, and it shall be called + Belinda. In the mean time, my dear, upon second thoughts, perhaps we can + get Mrs. Franks to dispose of your drawing-room dress to some person of + taste, and you may keep your fifty guineas for the next occasion. I’ll see + what can be done.—Adieu! a thousand thanks, silly child as you are.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Franks at first declared that it would be an impossibility to dispose + of Miss Portman’s dress, though she would do any thing upon earth to + oblige Lady Delacour; however, ten guineas made every thing possible. + Belinda rejoiced at having, as she thought, extricated herself at so cheap + a rate; and well pleased with her own conduct, she wrote to her aunt + Stanhope, to inform her of as much of the transaction as she could + disclose, without betraying Lady Delacour. “Her ladyship,” she said, “had + immediate occasion for two hundred guineas, and to accommodate her with + this sum she had given up the idea of going to court.” + </p> + <p> + The tenor of Miss Portman’s letter will be sufficiently apparent from Mrs. + Stanhope’s answer. + </p> + <p> + MRS. STANHOPE TO MISS PORTMAN. + </p> + <p> + “Bath, June 2nd. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot but feel some astonishment, Belinda, at your very extraordinary + conduct, and more extraordinary letter. What you can mean by principles + and delicacy I own I don’t pretend to understand, when I see you not only + forget the respect that is due to the opinions and advice of the aunt to + whom you owe every thing; but you take upon yourself to lavish her money, + without common honesty. I send you two hundred guineas, and desire you to + go to court—you lend my two hundred guineas to Lady Delacour, and + inform me that as you think yourself bound in honour to her ladyship, you + cannot explain all the particulars to me, otherwise you are sure I should + approve of the reasons which have influenced you. Mighty satisfactory, + truly! And then, to mend the matter, you tell me that you do not think + that in your situation in life it is necessary that you should go to + court. Your opinions and mine, you add, differ in many points. Then I must + say that you are as ungrateful as you are presumptuous; for I am not such + a novice in the affairs of the world as to be ignorant that when a young + lady professes to be of a different opinion from her friends, it is only a + prelude to something worse. She begins by saying that she is determined to + think for herself, and she is determined to act for herself—and then + it is all over with her: and all the money, &c. that has been spent + upon her education is so much dead loss to her friends. + </p> + <p> + “Now I look upon it that a young girl who has been brought up, and brought + forward in the world as you have been by connexions, is bound to be guided + implicitly by them in all her conduct. What should you think of a man who, + after he had been brought into parliament by a friend, would go and vote + against that friend’s opinions? You do not want sense, Belinda—you + perfectly understand me; and consequently your errors I must impute to the + defect of your heart, and not of your judgment. I see that, on account of + the illness of the princess, the king’s birthday is put off for a + fortnight. If you manage properly, and if (unknown to Lady ——, + who certainly has not used you well in this business, and to whom + therefore you owe no peculiar delicacy) you make Lord —— + sensible how much your aunt Stanhope is disappointed and displeased (as I + most truly am) at your intention of missing this opportunity of appearing + at court; it is ten to one but his lordship—who has not made it a + point to refuse your request, I suppose—will pay you your two + hundred guineas. You of course will make proper acknowledgments; but at + the same time entreat that his lordship will not <i>commit</i> you with + his lady, as she might be offended at your application to him. I + understand from an intimate acquaintance of his, that you are a great + favourite of his lordship; and though an obstinate, he is a good-natured + man, and can have no fear of being governed by you; consequently he will + do just as you would have him. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have an opportunity of representing the thing in the prettiest + manner imaginable to Lady ——, as an instance of her lord’s + consideration for her: so you will oblige all parties (a very desirable + thing) without costing yourself one penny, and go to the birthnight after + all: and this only by using a little address, without which nothing is to + be done in this world. + </p> + <p> + “Yours affectionately (if you follow my advice), + </p> + <p> + “SELINA STANHOPE.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, though she could not, consistently with what she thought right, + follow the advice so artfully given to her in this epistle, was yet + extremely concerned to find that she had incurred the displeasure of an + aunt to whom she thought herself under obligations. She resolved to lay by + as much as she possibly could, from the interest of her fortune, and to + repay the two hundred guineas to Mrs. Stanhope. She was conscious that she + had no right to lend this money to Lady Delacour, if her aunt had + expressly desired that she should spend it only on her court-dress; but + this had not distinctly been expressed when Mrs. Stanhope sent her niece + the draft. That lady was in the habit of speaking and writing ambiguously, + so that even those who knew her best were frequently in doubt how to + interpret her words. Yet she was extremely displeased when her hints and + her half-expressed wishes were not understood. Beside the concern she felt + from the thoughts of having displeased her aunt, Belinda was both vexed + and mortified to perceive that in Clarence Hervey’s manner towards her + there was not the change which she had expected that her conduct would + naturally produce. + </p> + <p> + One day she was surprised at his reproaching her for caprice in having + given up her intentions of going to court. Lady Delacour’s embarrassment + whilst Mr. Hervey spoke, Belinda attributed to her ladyship’s desire that + Clarence should not know that she had been obliged to borrow the money to + pay him for the horses. Belinda thought that this was a species of mean + pride; but she made it a point to keep her ladyship’s secret—she + therefore slightly answered Mr. Hervey, “that she wondered that a man who + was so well acquainted with the female sex should be surprised at any + instance of caprice from a woman.” The conversation then took another + turn, and whilst they were talking of indifferent subjects, in came Lord + Delacour’s man, Champfort, with Mrs. Stanhope’s draft for two hundred + guineas, which the coachmaker’s man had just brought back because Miss + Portman had forgotten to endorse it. Belinda’s astonishment was almost as + great at this instant as Lady Delacour’s confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Come this way, my dear, and we’ll find you a pen and ink. You need not + wait, Champfort; but tell the man to wait for the draft—Miss Portman + will endorse it immediately.”—And she took Belinda into another + room. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! Has not this money been paid to Mr. Hervey?” exclaimed + Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear; but I will take all the blame upon myself, or, which will do + just as well for you, throw it all upon my better half. My Lord Delacour + would not pay for my new carriage. The coachmaker, insolent animal, would + not let it out of his yard without two hundred guineas in ready money. Now + you know I had the horses, and what could I do with the horses without the + carriage? Clarence Hervey, I knew, could wait for his money better than a + poor devil of a coachmaker; so I paid the coachmaker, and a few months + sooner or later can make no difference to Clarence, who rolls in gold, my + dear—if that will be any comfort to you, as I hope it will.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what will he think of me!” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, what will he think of <i>me</i>, child!” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour,” said Belinda, in a firmer tone than she had ever before + spoken, “I must insist upon this draft being given to Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely impossible, my dear.—I cannot take it from the + coachmaker; he has sent home the carriage: the thing’s done, and cannot be + undone. But come, since I know nothing else will make you easy, I will + take this mighty favour from Mr. Hervey entirely upon my own conscience: + you cannot object to that, for you are not the keeper of my conscience. I + will tell Clarence the whole business, and do you honour due, my dear: so + endorse the check, whilst I go and sound both the praises of your dignity + of mind, and simplicity of character, &c. &c. &c. &c.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship broke away from Belinda, returned to Clarence Hervey, and + told the whole affair with that peculiar grace with which she knew how to + make a good story of a bad one. Clarence was as favourable an auditor at + this time as she could possibly have found; for no human being could value + money less than he did, and all sense of her ladyship’s meanness was lost + in his joy at discovering that Belinda was worthy of his esteem. Now he + felt in its fullest extent all the power she had over his heart, and he + was upon the point of declaring his attachment to her, when <i>malheureusement</i> + Sir Philip Baddely and Mr. Rochfort announced themselves by the noise they + made on the staircase. These were the young men who had spoken in such a + contemptuous manner at Lady Singleton’s of the match-making Mrs. Stanhope + and her nieces. Mr. Hervey was anxious that they should not penetrate into + the state of his heart, and he concealed his emotion by instantly assuming + that kind of rattling gaiety which always delighted his companions, who + were ever in want of some one to set their stagnant ideas in motion. At + last they insisted upon carrying Clarence away with them to taste some + wines for Sir Philip Baddely. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — THE SERPENTINE RIVER. + </h2> + <p> + In his way to St. James’s street, where the wine-merchant lived, Sir + Philip Baddely picked up several young men of his acquaintance, who were + all eager to witness a trial of <i>taste</i>, of epicurean taste, between + the baronet and Clarence Hervey. Amongst his other accomplishments our + hero piqued himself upon the exquisite accuracy of his organs of taste. He + neither loved wine, nor was he fond of eating; but at fine dinners, with + young men who were real epicures, Hervey gave himself the airs of a + connoisseur, and asserted superiority even in judging of wine and sauces. + Having gained immortal honour at an entertainment by gravely protesting + that some turtle would have been excellent if it had not been done <i>a + bubble too much</i>, he presumed, elate as he was with the applauses of + the company, to assert, that no man in England had a more correct taste + than himself.—Sir Philip Baddely could not passively submit to this + arrogance; he loudly proclaimed, that though he would not dispute Mr. + Hervey’s judgment as far as eating was concerned, yet he would defy him as + a connoisseur in wines, and he offered to submit the competition to any + eminent wine-merchant in London, and to some common friend of acknowledged + taste and experience.—Mr. Rochfort was chosen as the common friend + of acknowledged taste and experience; and a fashionable wine-merchant was + pitched upon to decide with him the merits of these candidates for + bacchanalian fame. Sir Philip, who was just going to furnish his cellars, + was a person of importance to the wine-merchant, who produced accordingly + his choicest treasures. Sir Philip and Clarence tasted of all in their + turns; Sir Philip with real, and Clarence with affected gravity; and they + delivered their opinions of the positive and comparative merits of each. + The wine-merchant evidently, as Mr. Hervey thought, leaned towards Sir + Philip. “Upon my word, Sir Philip, you are right—that wine is the + best I have—you certainly have a most discriminating taste,” said + the complaisant wine-merchant. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what,” cried Sir Philip, “the thing is this: by Jove! now, + there’s no possibility now—no possibility now, by Jove! of imposing + upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Clarence Hervey, “would you engage to tell the differences + between these two wines ten times running, blind-fold?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten times! that’s nothing,” replied Sir Philip: “yes, fifty times, I + would, by Jove!” + </p> + <p> + But when it came to the trial, Sir Philip had nothing left but oaths in + his own favour. Clarence Hervey was victorious; and his sense of the + importance of this victory was much increased by the fumes of the wine, + which began to operate upon his brain. His triumph was, as he said it + ought to be, bacchanalian: he laughed and sang with anacreontic spirit, + and finished by declaring that he deserved to be crowned with vine-leaves. + </p> + <p> + “Dine with me, Clarence,” said Rochfort, “and we’ll crown you with three + times three; and,” whispered he to Sir Philip, “we’ll have another trial + after dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “But as it’s not near dinner-time yet—what shall we do with + ourselves till dinner-time?” said Sir Philip, yawning pathetically. + </p> + <p> + Clarence not being used to drink in a morning, though all his companions + were, was much affected by the wine, and Rochfort proposed that they + should take a turn in the park to cool Hervey’s head. To Hyde-park they + repaired; Sir Philip boasting, all the way they walked, of the superior + strength of his head. + </p> + <p> + Clarence protested that his own was stronger than any man’s in England, + and observed, that at this instant he walked better than any person in + company, Sir Philip Baddely not excepted. Now Sir Philip Baddely was a + noted pedestrian, and he immediately challenged our hero to walk with him + for any money he pleased. “Done,” said Clarence, “for ten guineas—for + any money you please:” and instantly they set out to walk, as Rochfort + cried “one, two, three, and away; keep the path, and whichever reaches + that elm tree first has it.” + </p> + <p> + They were exactly even for some yards, then Clarence got ahead of Sir + Philip, and he reached the elm tree first; but as he waved his hat, + exclaiming, “Clarence has won the day,” Sir Philip came up with his + companions, and coolly informed him that he had lost his wager—“Lost! + lost! lost! Clarence—fairly lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I reach the tree first?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered his companions; “but you didn’t keep the path. You turned + out of the way when you met that crowd of children yonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Now <i>I</i>,” said Sir Philip, “dashed fairly through them—kept + the path, and won my bet.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Hervey, “would you have had me run over that little child, who + was stooping down just in my way?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>!’ not I,” said Sir Philip; “but I would have you go through with + your civility: if a man will be polite, he must pay for his politeness + sometimes.—You said you’d lay me <i>any money</i> I pleased, + recollect—now I’m very moderate—and as you are a particular + friend, Clarence, I’ll only take your ten guineas.” + </p> + <p> + A loud laugh from his companions provoked Clarence; they were glad “to + have a laugh against him,” because he excited universal envy by the real + superiority of his talents, and by his perpetually taking the lead in + those trifles which were beneath his ambition, and exactly suited to + engage the attention of his associates. + </p> + <p> + “Be it so, and welcome; I’ll pay ten guineas for having better manners + than any of you,” cried Hervey, laughing; “but remember, though I’ve lost + this bet, I don’t give up my pedestrian fame.—Sir Philip, there are + no women to throw golden apples in my way now, and no children for me to + stumble over: I dare you to another trial—double or quit.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m off, by Jove!” said Sir Philip. “I’m too hot, damme, to walk with you + any more—but I’m your man if you’ve a mind for a swim—here’s + the Serpentine river, Clarence—hey? damn it!—hey?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Philip and all his companions knew that Clarence had never learned to + swim. + </p> + <p> + “You may wink at one another, as wisely as you please,” said Clarence, + “but come on, my boys—I am your man for a swim—hundred guineas + upon it! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ——‘Darest thou, Rochfort, now + Leap in with me into this weedy flood, + And swim to yonder point?’” + </pre> + <p> + and instantly Hervey, who had in his confused head some recollection of an + essay of Dr. Franklin on swimming, by which he fancied that he could + ensure at once his safety and his fame, threw off his coat and jumped into + the river—luckily he was not in boots. Rochfort, and all the other + young men stood laughing by the river side. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil are these two that seem to be making up to us?” said Sir + Philip, looking at two gentlemen who were coming towards them; “St. + George, hey? you know every body.” + </p> + <p> + “The foremost is Percival, of Oakly-park, I think, ‘pon my honour,” + replied Mr. St. George, and he then began to settle how many thousands a + year Mr. Percival was worth. This point was not decided when the gentlemen + came up to the spot where Sir Philip was standing. + </p> + <p> + The child for whose sake Clarence Hervey had lost his bet was Mr. + Percival’s, and he came to thank him for his civility.—The gentleman + who accompanied Mr. Percival was an old friend of Clarence Hervey’s; he + had met him abroad, but had not seen him for some years. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, gentlemen,” said he to Sir Philip and his party, “is Mr. Clarence + Hervey amongst you? I think I saw him pass by me just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn it, yes—where is Clary, though?” exclaimed Sir Philip, + suddenly recollecting himself.—Clarence Hervey at this instant was + drowning: he had got out of his depth, and had struggled in vain to + recover himself. + </p> + <p> + “Curse me, if it’s not all over with Clary,” continued Sir Philip. “Do any + of you see his head any where? Damn you, Rochfort, yonder it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Damme, so it is,” said Rochfort; “but he’s so heavy in his clothes, he’d + pull me down along with him to Davy’s locker:—damme, if I’ll go + after him.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn it, though, can’t some of ye swim? Can’t some of ye jump in?” cried + Sir Philip, turning to his companions: “damn it, Clarence will go to the + bottom.” + </p> + <p> + And so he inevitably would have done, had not Mr. Percival at this instant + leaped into the river, and seized hold of the drowning Clarence. It was + with great difficulty that he dragged him to the shore.—Sir Philip’s + party, as soon as the danger was over, officiously offered their + assistance. Clarence Hervey was absolutely senseless. “Damn it, what shall + we do with him now?” said Sir Philip: “Damn it, we must call some of the + people from the boat-house—he’s as heavy as lead: damn me, if I know + what to do with him.” <a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" + id="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a> + </p> + <p> + Whilst Sir Philip was damning himself, Mr. Percival ran to the boat-house + for assistance, and they carried the body into the house. The elderly + gentleman who had accompanied Mr. Percival now made his way through the + midst of the noisy crowd, and directed what should be done to restore Mr. + Hervey’s suspended animation. Whilst he was employed in this benevolent + manner, Clarence’s worthy friends were sneering at him, and whispering to + one another; “Ecod, he talks as if he was a doctor,” said Rochfort. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pon honour, I do believe,” said St. George, “he is the famous Dr. X——; + I met him at a circulating library t’other day.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. X—— the writer, do you mean?” said Sir Philip; “then, + damn me, we’d better get out of his way as fast as we can, or he’ll have + some of us down in black and white; and curse me, if I should choose to + meet with myself in a book.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger of that,” said Rochfort; “for how can one meet with oneself in + a book, Sir Philip, if one never opens one?—By Jove, that’s the true + way.” + </p> + <p> + “But, ‘pon my honour,” said St. George, “I should like of all things to + see myself in print; ‘twould make one famously famous.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn me, if I don’t flatter myself, though, one can make oneself famous + enough to all intents and purposes without having any thing to say to + these author geniuses. You’re a famous fellow, faith! to want to see + yourself in print—I’ll publish this in Bond-street: damn it, in + point of famousness, I’d sport my Random against all the books that ever + were read or written, damn me! But what are we doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Hervey’s in good hands,” said Rochfort, “and this here’s a cursed stupid + lounge for us—besides, it’s getting towards dinner-time; so my voice + is, let’s be off, and we can leave St. George (who has such a famous mind + to be in the doctor’s book) to bring Clary after us, when he’s ready for + dinner and good company again, you know—ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Away the faithful friends went to the important business of their day. + </p> + <p> + When Clarence Hervey came to his senses he started up, rubbed his eyes, + and looked about, exclaiming—“What’s all this?—Where am I?—Where’s + Baddely?—Where’s Rochfort?—Where are they all?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone home to dinner,” answered Mr. St. George, who was a hanger-on of Sir + Philip’s; “but they left me to bring you after them. Faith, Clary, you’ve + had a squeak for your life! ‘Pon my honour, we thought at one time it was + all over with you—but you’re a rough one: we shan’t have to ‘pour + over your grave a full bottle of red’ as yet, my boy—you’ll do as + well as ever. So I’ll step and call a coach for you, Clary, and we shall + be at dinner as soon as the best of ‘em after all, by jingo! I leave you + in good hands with the doctor here, that brought you to life, and the + gentleman that dragged you out of the water. Here’s a note for you,” + whispered Mr. St. George, as he leaned over Clarence Hervey—“here’s + a note for you from Sir Philip and Rochfort: read it, do you mind, to <i>yourself</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “If I can,” said Clarence; “but Sir Philip writes a <i>bloody bad hand</i>.” + <a href="#linknote-3" name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3"><small>3</small></a> + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’s a <i>baronet</i>,” said St. George, “ha! ha! ha!” and, charmed + with his own wit, he left the boat-house. + </p> + <p> + Clarence with some difficulty deciphered the note, which contained these + words: + </p> + <p> + “Quiz the doctor, Clary, as soon as you are up to it—he’s an author—so + fair game—quiz the doctor, and we’ll drink your health with three + times three in Rochfort’s burgundy. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, &c. + </p> + <p> + “PHIL. BADDELY. + </p> + <p> + “P.S. Burn this when read.” + </p> + <p> + With the request contained in the postscript Clarence immediately + complied; he threw the note into the fire with indignation the moment that + he had read it, and turning towards the gentleman to whom it alluded, he + began to express, in the strongest terms, his gratitude for their + benevolence. But he stopped short in the midst of his acknowledgments, + when he discovered to whom he was speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. X——!” cried he. “Is it possible? How rejoiced I am to see + you, and how rejoiced I am to be obliged to you! There is not a man in + England to whom I would rather be obliged.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not acquainted with Mr. Percival, I believe,” said Dr. X——: + “give me leave, Mr. Percival, to introduce to you the young gentleman + whose life you have saved, and whose life—though, by the company in + which you found him, you might not think so—is worth saving. This, + sir, is no less a man than Mr. Clarence Hervey, of whose universal genius + you have just had a specimen; for which he was crowned with sedges, as he + well deserved, by the god of the Serpentine river. Do not be so unjust as + to imagine that he has any of the presumption which is sometimes the chief + characteristic of a man of universal genius. Mr. Clarence Hervey is, + without exception, the most humble man of my acquaintance; for whilst all + good judges would think him fit company for Mr. Percival, he has the + humility to think himself upon a level with Mr. Rochfort and Sir Philip + Baddely.” + </p> + <p> + “You have lost as little of your satirical wit, Dr. X——, + as of your active benevolence, I perceive,” said Clarence Hervey, “since I + met you abroad. But as I cannot submit to your unjust charge of humility, + will you tell me where you are to be found in town, and to-morrow———” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,” said Dr. X——: + “why not to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I am engaged,” said Clarence, hesitating and laughing—-“I am + unfortunately engaged to-day to dine with Mr. Rochfort and Sir Philip + Baddely, and in the evening I am to be at Lady Delacour’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour! Not the same Lady Delacour whom four years ago, when we + met at Florence, you compared to the Venus de Medici—no, no, it + cannot be the same—a goddess of four years’ standing!—Incredible!” + </p> + <p> + “Incredible as it seems,” said Clarence, “it is true: I admire her + ladyship more than ever I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Like a true connoisseur,” said Dr. X——, “you admire a + fine picture the older it grows: I hear that her ladyship’s face is really + one of the finest pieces of painting extant, with the advantage of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Ev’ry grace which time alone can grant.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Come, come, Dr. X——,” cried Mr. Percival, “no more wit + at Lady Delacour’s expense: I have a fellow-feeling for Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are not in love with her ladyship, are you?” said Dr. X——. + “I am not in love with Lady Delacour’s picture of herself,” replied Mr. + Percival, “but I was once in love with the original.” + </p> + <p> + “How?—When?—Where?” cried Clarence Hervey, in a tone totally + different from that in which he had first addressed Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow you shall know the how, the when, and the where,” said Mr. + Percival: “here’s your friend, Mr. St. George, and his coach.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce take him!” said Clarence: “but tell me, is it possible that you + are not in love with her still?—and why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said Mr. Percival—“why? Come to-morrow, as you have promised, + to Upper Grosvenor-street, and let me introduce you to Lady Anne Percival; + she can answer your question better than I can—if not entirely to + your satisfaction, at least entirely to mine, which is more surprising, as + the lady is my wife.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Clarence Hervey was equipped in a dry suit of clothes; and by + the strength of an excellent constitution, which he had never injured, + even amongst his dissipated associates, he had recovered from the effects + of his late imprudence.—“Clary, let’s away, here’s the coach,” said + Mr. St. George. “Why, my boy—that’s a famous fellow, faith!—why, + you look the better for being drowned. ‘Pon honour, if I were you, I would + jump into the Serpentine river once a day.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could always be sure of such good friends to pull me out,” said + Hervey.—“Pray, St. George, by-the-bye, what were you, and Rochfort, + and Sir Philip, and all the rest of my friends doing, whilst I was + drowning?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say particularly, upon my soul,” replied Mr. St. George; “for my + own part, I was in boots, so you know I was out of the question. But what + signifies all that now? Come, come, we had best think of looking after our + dinners.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey, who had very quick feelings, was extremely hurt by the + indifference which his dear friends had shown when his life was in danger: + he was apt to believe that he was really an object of affection and + admiration amongst his companions; and that though they were neither very + wise, nor very witty, they were certainly very good-natured. When they had + forfeited, by their late conduct, these claims to his regard, his + partiality for them was changed into contempt. + </p> + <p> + “You had better come home and dine with me, Mr. Hervey,” said Mr. + Percival, “if you be not absolutely engaged; for here is your physician, + who tells me that temperance is necessary for a man just recovered from + drowning, and Mr. Rochfort keeps too good a table, I am told, for one in + your condition.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence accepted of this invitation with a degree of pleasure which + perfectly astonished Mr. St. George. + </p> + <p> + “Every man knows his own affairs best,” said he to Clarence, as he stepped + into his hackney coach; “but for my share, I will do my friend Rochfort + the justice to say that no one lives as well as he does.” + </p> + <p> + “If to live well mean nothing but to eat,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Dr. X——, looking at his watch, “it will be eight + o’clock by the time we get to Upper Grosvenor-street, and Lady Anne will + probably have waited dinner for us about two hours, which I apprehend is + sufficient to try the patience of any woman but Griselda. Do not,” + continued he, turning to Clarence Hervey, “expect to see an old-fashioned, + spiritless, patient Griselda, in Lady Anne Percival: I can assure you that + she is—but I will neither tell you what she is, nor what she is not. + Every man who has any abilities, likes to have the pleasure and honour of + finding out a character by his own penetration, instead of having it + forced upon him at full length in capital letters of gold, finely + emblazoned and illuminated by the hand of some injudicious friend: every + child thinks the violet of his own finding the sweetest. I spare you any + farther allusion and illustrations,” concluded Dr. X——, “for + here we are, thank God, in Upper Grosvenor-street.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — A FAMILY PARTY. + </h2> + <p> + They found Lady Anne Percival in the midst of her children, who all turned + their healthy, rosy, intelligent faces towards the door, the moment that + they heard their father’s voice. Clarence Hervey was so much struck with + the expression of happiness in Lady Anne’s countenance, that he absolutely + forgot to compare her beauty with Lady Delacour’s. Whether her eyes were + large or small, blue or hazel, he could not tell; nay, he might have been + puzzled if he had been asked the colour of her hair. Whether she were + handsome by the rules of art, he knew not; but he felt that she had the + essential charm of beauty, the power of prepossessing the heart + immediately in her favour. The effect of her manners, like that of her + beauty, was rather to be felt than described. Every body was at ease in + her company, and none thought themselves called upon to admire her. To + Clarence Hervey, who had been used to the brilliant and <i>exigeante</i> + Lady Delacour, this respite from the fatigue of admiration was peculiarly + agreeable. The unconstrained cheerfulness of Lady Anne Percival spoke a + mind at ease, and immediately imparted happiness by exacting sympathy; but + in Lady Delacour’s wit and gaiety there was an appearance of art and + effort, which often destroyed the pleasure that she wished to communicate. + Mr. Hervey was, perhaps unusually, disposed to reflection, by having just + escaped from drowning; for he had made all these comparisons, and came to + this conclusion, with the accuracy of a metaphysician, who has been + accustomed to study cause and effect—indeed there was no species of + knowledge for which he had not taste and talents, though, to please fools, + he too often affected “the bliss of ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + The children at Lady Anne Percival’s happened to be looking at some gold + fish, which were in a glass globe, and Dr. X——, who was + a general favourite with the younger as well as with the elder part of the + family, was seized upon the moment he entered the room: a pretty little + girl of five years old took him prisoner by the flap of the coat, whilst + two of her brothers assailed him with questions about the ears, eyes, and + fins of fishes. One of the little boys filliped the glass globe, and + observed, that the fish immediately came to the surface of the water, and + seemed to hear the noise very quickly; but his brother doubted whether the + fish heard the noise, and remarked, that they might be disturbed by seeing + or feeling the motion of the water, when the glass was struck. + </p> + <p> + Dr. X—— observed, that this was a very learned dispute, and + that the question had been discussed by no less a person than the Abbé + Nollet; and he related some of the ingenious experiments tried by that + gentleman, to decide whether fishes can or cannot hear. Whilst the doctor + was speaking, Clarence Hervey was struck with the intelligent countenance + of one of the little auditors, a girl of about ten or twelve years old; he + was surprised to discover in her features, though not in their expression, + a singular resemblance to Lady Delacour. He remarked this to Mr. Percival, + and the child, who overheard him, blushed as red as scarlet. Dinner was + announced at this instant, and Clarence Hervey thought no more of the + circumstance, attributing the girl’s blush to confusion at being looked at + so earnestly. One of the little boys whispered as they were going down to + dinner, “Helena, I do believe that this is the good-natured gentleman who + went out of the path to make room for us, instead of running over us as + the other man did.” The children agreed that Clarence Hervey certainly was + the <i>good-natured gentleman</i>, and upon the strength of this + observation, one of the boys posted himself next to Clarence at dinner, + and by all the little playful manoeuvres in his power endeavoured to show + his gratitude, and to cultivate a friendship which had been thus + auspiciously commenced. Mr. Hervey, who piqued himself upon being able + always to suit his conversation to his companions, distinguished himself + at dinner by an account of the Chinese fishing-bird, from which he passed + to the various ingenious methods of fishing practised by the Russian + Cossacks. From modern he went to ancient fish, and he talked of that which + was so much admired by the Roman epicures for exhibiting a succession of + beautiful colours whilst it is dying; and which was, upon that account, + always suffered to die in the presence of the guests, as part of the + entertainment.—Clarence was led on by the questions of the children + from fishes to birds; he spoke of the Roman aviaries, which were so + constructed as to keep from the sight of the prisoners that they + contained, “the fields, woods, and every object which might remind them of + their former liberty.”—From birds he was going on to beasts, when he + was nearly struck dumb by the forbidding severity with which an elderly + lady, who sat opposite to him, fixed her eyes upon him. He had not, till + this instant, paid the smallest attention to her; but her stern + countenance was now so strongly contrasted with the approving looks of the + children who sat next to her, that he could not help remarking it. He + asked her to do him the honour to drink a glass of wine with him. She + declined doing him that honour; observing that she never drank more than + one glass of wine at dinner, and that she had just taken one with Mr. + Percival. Her manner was well-bred, but haughty in the extreme; and she + was so passionate, that her anger sometimes conquered even her politeness. + Her dislike to Clarence Hervey was apparent, even in her silence. “If the + old gentlewoman has taken an antipathy to me at first sight, I cannot help + it,” thought he, and he went on to the beasts. The boy, who sat next him, + had asked some questions about the proboscis of the elephant, and Mr. + Hervey mentioned Ives’s account of the elephants in India, who have been + set to watch young children, and who draw them back gently with their + trunks, when they go out of bounds. He talked next of the unicorn; and + addressing himself to Dr. X—— and Mr. Percival, he declared + that in his opinion Herodotus did not deserve to be called the father of + lies; he cited the mammoth to prove that the apocryphal chapter in the + history of beasts should not be contemned—that it would in all + probability be soon established as true history. The dessert was on the + table before Clarence had done with the mammoth. + </p> + <p> + As the butler put a fine dish of cherries upon the table, he said, + </p> + <p> + “My lady, these cherries are a present from the old gardener to Miss + Delacour.” + </p> + <p> + “Set them before Miss Delacour then,” said Lady Anne. “Helena, my dear, + distribute your own cherries.” + </p> + <p> + At the name of Delacour, Clarence Hervey, though his head was still half + full of the mammoth, looked round in astonishment; and when he saw the + cherries placed before the young lady, whose resemblance to Lady Delacour + he had before observed, he could not help exclaiming, + </p> + <p> + “That young lady then is not a daughter of your ladyship’s?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I love her as well as if she were,” replied Lady Anne.—“What + were you saying about the mammoth?” + </p> + <p> + “That the mammoth is supposed to be——————” + but interrupting himself, Clarence said in an inquiring tone—“A <i>niece</i> + of Lady Delacour’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship’s <i>daughter</i>, sir,” said the severe old lady, in a + voice more terrific than her looks. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I give you some strawberries, Mr. Hervey,” said lady Anne, “or will + you let Helena help you to some cherries?” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship’s <i>daughter!</i>” exclaimed Clarence Hervey in a tone of + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Some cherries, sir?” said Helena; but her voice faltered so much, that + she could hardly utter the words. + </p> + <p> + Clarence perceived that he had been the cause of her agitation, though he + knew not precisely by what means; and he now applied himself in silence to + the picking of his strawberries with great diligence. + </p> + <p> + The ladies soon afterwards withdrew, and as Mr. Percival did not touch + upon the subject again, Clarence forbore to ask any further questions, + though he was considerably surprised by this sudden discovery. When he + went into the drawing-room to tea, he found his friend, the stern old + lady, speaking in a high declamatory tone. The words which he heard as he + came into the room were— + </p> + <p> + “If there were no Clarence Herveys, there would be no Lady Delacours.”—Clarence + bowed as if he had received a high compliment—the old lady walked + away to an antechamber, fanning herself with great energy. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Margaret Delacour,” said Lady Anne, in a low voice to Hervey, “is an + aunt of Lord Delacour’s. A woman whose heart is warmer than her temper.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is never cool,” said a young lady, who sat next to Lady Anne. “I + call Mrs. Margaret Delacour the volcano; I’m sure I am never in her + company without dreading an eruption. Every now and then out comes with a + tremendous noise, fire, smoke, and rubbish.” + </p> + <p> + “And precious minerals,” said Lady Anne, “amongst the rubbish.” + </p> + <p> + “But the best of it is,” continued the young lady, “that she is seldom in + a passion without making a hundred mistakes, for which she is usually + obliged afterwards to ask a thousand pardons.” + </p> + <p> + “By that account,” said Lady Anne, “which I believe to be just, her + contrition is always ten times as great as her offence.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you talk of contrition, Lady Anne,” said Mr. Hervey, “I should think + of my own offences: I am very sorry that my indiscreet questions gave Miss + Delacour any pain—my head was so full of the mammoth, that I + blundered on without seeing what I was about till it was too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir,” said Mrs. Margaret Delacour, who now returned, and took her + seat upon a sofa, with the solemnity of a person who was going to sit in + judgment upon a criminal, “pray, sir, may I ask how long you have been + acquainted with my Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey took up a book, and with great gravity kissed it, as if he + had been upon his oath in a court of justice, and answered, + </p> + <p> + “To the best of my recollection, madam, it is now four years since I had + first the pleasure and honour of seeing Lady Delacour.” + </p> + <p> + “And in that time, intimately as you have had the pleasure of being + acquainted with her ladyship, you have never discovered that she had a + daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” said Mr. Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “There, Lady Anne!—There!” cried Mrs. Delacour, “will you tell me + after this, that Lady Delacour is not a monster?” + </p> + <p> + “Every body says that she’s a prodigy,” said Lady Anne; “and prodigies and + monsters are sometimes thought synonymous terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a mother was never heard of,” continued Mrs. Delacour, “since the + days of Savage and Lady Macclesfield. I am convinced that she <i>hates</i> + her daughter. Why she never speaks of her—she never sees her—she + never thinks of her!” + </p> + <p> + “Some mothers speak more than they think of their children, and others + think more than they speak of them,” said Lady Anne. + </p> + <p> + “I always thought,” said Mr. Hervey, “that Lady Delacour was a woman of + great sensibility.” + </p> + <p> + “Sensibility!” exclaimed the indignant old lady, “she has no sensibility, + sir—none—none. She who lives in a constant round of + dissipation, who performs no one duty, who exists only for herself; how + does she show her sensibility?—Has she sensibility for her husband—for + her daughter—for any one useful purpose upon earth?—Oh, how I + hate the cambric handkerchief sensibility that is brought out only to weep + at a tragedy!—Yes; Lady Delacour has sensibility enough, I grant ye, + when sensibility is the fashion. I remember well her performing the part + of a nurse with vast applause; and I remember, too, the sensibility she + showed, when the child that she nursed fell a sacrifice to her + dissipation. The second of her children, that she killed—” + </p> + <p> + “Killed!—Oh! surely, my dear Mrs. Delacour, that is too strong a + word,” said Lady Anne: “you would not make a Medea of Lady Delacour!” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been better if I had,” cried Mrs. Delacour, “I can + understand that there may be such a thing in nature as a jealous wife, but + an unfeeling mother I cannot comprehend—that passes my powers of + imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “And mine, so much,” said Lady Anne, “that I cannot believe such a being + to exist in the world—notwithstanding all the descriptions I have + heard of it: as you say, my dear Mrs. Delacour, it passes my powers of + imagination. Let us leave it in Mr. Hervey’s apocryphal chapter of + animals, and he will excuse us if I never admit it into true history, at + least without some better evidence than I have yet heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear, dear Lady Anne,” cried Mrs. Delacour—“I’ve made this + coffee so sweet, there’s no drinking it—what evidence would you + have?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” said Lady Anne, smiling, “I would have none.” “That is to say, you + will take none,” said Mrs. Delacour: “but can any thing be stronger + evidence than her ladyship’s conduct to <i>my</i> poor Helen—to <i>your</i> + Helen, I should say—for you have educated, you have protected her, + you have been a mother to her. I am an infirm, weak, ignorant, passionate + old woman—I could not have been what you have been to that child—God + bless you!—God will bless you!” + </p> + <p> + She rose as she spoke, to set down her coffee-cup on the table. Clarence + Hervey took it from her with a look which said much, and which she was + perfectly capable of understanding. + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” said she, “it is very unfashionable to treat age and + infirmity with politeness. I wish that your friend, Lady Delacour, may at + my time of life meet with as much respect, as she has met with admiration + and gallantry in her youth. Poor woman, her head has absolutely been + turned with admiration—and if fame say true, Mr. Hervey has had his + share in turning that head by his flattery.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure her ladyship has turned mine by her charms,” said Clarence; + “and I certainly am not to be blamed for admiring what all the world + admires.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” said the old lady, “for her own sake, for the sake of her + family, and for the sake of her reputation, that my Lady Delacour had + fewer admirers, and more friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Women who have met with so many admirers, seldom meet with many friends,” + said Lady Anne. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Delacour, “for they seldom are wise enough to know their + value.” + </p> + <p> + “We learn the value of all things, but especially of friends, by + experience,” said Lady Anne; “and it is no wonder, therefore, that those + who have little experience of the pleasures of friendship should not be + wise enough to know their value.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very good-natured sophistry; but Lady Delacour is too vain ever + to have a friend,” said Mrs. Delacour. “My dear Lady Anne, you don’t know + her as well as I do—she has more vanity than ever woman had.” + </p> + <p> + “That is certainly saying a great deal,” said Lady Anne; “but then we must + consider, that Lady Delacour, as an heiress, a beauty, and a wit, has a + right to a triple share at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Both her fortune and her beauty are gone; and if she had any wit left, it + is time it should teach her how to conduct herself, I think,” said Mrs. + Delacour: “but I give her up—I give her up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Lady Anne, “you must not give her up yet, I have been + informed, and upon <i>the best authority</i>, that Lady Delacour was not + always the unfeeling, dissipated fine lady that she now appears to be. + This is only one of the transformations of fashion—the period of her + enchantment will soon be at an end, and she will return to her natural + character. I should not be at all surprised, if Lady Delacour were to + appear at once <i>la femme comme il y en a pen</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Or <i>la bonne mère</i>?” said Mrs. Delacour, sarcastically, “after thus + leaving her daughter——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Pour bonne bouche</i>,” interrupted Lady Anne, “when she is tired of + the insipid taste of other pleasures, she will have a higher relish for + those of domestic life, which will be new and fresh to her.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you really think, my dear Lady Anne, that my Lady Delacour will + end by being a domestic woman. Well,” said Mrs. Margaret, after taking two + pinches of snuff, “some people believe in the millennium; but I confess I + am not one of them—are you, Mr. Hervey?” + </p> + <p> + “If it were foretold to me by a good angel,” said Clarence, smiling, as + his eye glanced at Lady Anne; “if it were foretold to me by a good angel, + how could I doubt it?” + </p> + <p> + Here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of one of Lady + Anne’s little boys, who came running eagerly up to his mother, to ask + whether he might have “the sulphurs to show to Helena Delacour. I want to + show her Vertumnus and Pomona, mamma,” said he. “Were not the cherries + that the old gardener sent very good?” + </p> + <p> + “What is this about the cherries and the old gardener, Charles?” said the + young lady who sat beside Lady Anne: “come here and tell me the whole + story.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, but I should tell it you a great deal better another time,” said + the boy, “because now Helena’s waiting for Vertumnus and Pomona.” + </p> + <p> + “Go then to Helena,” said Lady Anne, “and I will tell the story for you.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning to the young lady she began—“Once upon a time there + lived an old gardener at Kensington; and this old gardener had an aloe, + which was older than himself; for it was very near a hundred years of age, + and it was just going to blossom, and the old gardener calculated how much + he might make by showing his aloe, when it should be in full blow, to the + generous public—and he calculated that he might make a 100l.; and + with this 100l. he determined to do more than was ever done with a 100l. + before: but, unluckily, as he was thus reckoning his blossoms before they + were blown, he chanced to meet with a fair damsel, who ruined all his + calculations.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Mrs. Stanhope’s maid, was not it?” interrupted Mrs. Margaret + Delacour. “A pretty damsel she was, and almost as good a politician as her + mistress. Think of that jilt’s tricking this poor old fellow out of his + aloe, and—oh, the meanness of Lady Delacour, to accept of that aloe + for one of her extravagant entertainments!” + </p> + <p> + “But I always understood that she paid fifty guineas for it,” said Lady + Anne. + </p> + <p> + “Whether she did or not,” said Mrs. Delacour, “her ladyship and Mrs. + Stanhope between them were the ruin of this poor old man. He was taken in + to marry that jade of a waiting-maid; she turned out just as you might + expect from a pupil of Mrs. Stanhope’s—the match-making Mrs. + Stanhope—you know, sir.” (Clarence Hervey changed colour.) “She + turned out,” continued Mrs. Delacour, “every thing that was bad—ruined + her husband—ran away from him—and left him a beggar.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” said Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “But now,” said Lady Anne, “let’s come to the best part of the story—mark + how good comes out of evil. If this poor man had not lost his aloe and his + wife, I probably should never have been acquainted with Mrs. Delacour, or + with my little Helena. About the time that the old gardener was left a + beggar, as I happened to be walking one fine evening in Sloane-street, I + met a procession of school-girls—an old man begged from them in a + most moving voice; and as they passed, several of the young ladies threw + halfpence to him. One little girl, who observed that the old man could not + stoop without great difficulty, stayed behind the rest of her companions, + and collected the halfpence which they had thrown to him, and put them + into his hat. He began to tell his story over again to her, and she stayed + so long listening to it, that her companions had turned the corner of the + street, and were out of sight. She looked about in great distress; and I + never shall forget the pathetic voice with which she said, ‘Oh! what will + become of me? every body will be angry with me.’ I assured her that nobody + should be angry with her, and she gave me her little hand with the utmost + innocent confidence. I took her home to her schoolmistress, and I was so + pleased with the beginning of this acquaintance, that I was determined to + cultivate it. One good acquaintance I have heard always leads to another. + Helena introduced me to her aunt Delacour as her best friend. Mrs. + Margaret Delacour has had the goodness to let her little niece spend the + holidays and all her leisure time with me, so that our acquaintance has + grown into friendship. Helena has become quite one of my family.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am sure she has become quite a different creature since she has + been so much with you,” cried Mrs. Delacour; “her spirits were quite + broken by her mother’s neglect of her: young as she is, she has a great + deal of real sensibility; but as to her mother’s sensibility—” + </p> + <p> + At the recollection of Lady Delacour’s neglect of her child, Mrs. Delacour + was going again to launch forth into indignant invective, but Lady Anne + stopped her, by whispering— + </p> + <p> + “Take care what you say of the mother, for here is the daughter coming, + and she has, indeed, a great deal of real sensibility.” + </p> + <p> + Helena and her young companions now came into the room, bringing with them + the sulphurs at which they had been looking. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” said little Charles Percival, “we have brought the sulphurs to + you, because there are some of them that I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” said Lady Anne; “and what is not quite so wonderful, there + are some of them that I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + The children spread the sulphurs upon a little table, and all the company + gathered round it. + </p> + <p> + “Here are all the nine muses for you,” said the least of the boys, who had + taken his seat by Clarence Hervey at dinner; “here are all the muses for + you, Mr. Hervey: which do you like best?—Oh, that’s the tragic muse + that you have chosen!—You don’t like the tragic better than the + comic muse, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey made no answer, for he was at that instant recollecting + how Belinda looked in the character of the tragic muse. + </p> + <p> + “Has your ladyship ever happened to meet with the young lady who has spent + this winter with Lady Delacour?” said Clarence to Lady Anne. + </p> + <p> + “I sat near her one night at the opera,” said Lady Anne: “she has a + charming countenance.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?—Belinda Portman, do you mean?” said Mrs. Delacour. “I am sure + if I were a young man, I would not trust to the charming countenance of a + young lady who is a pupil of Mrs. Stanhope’s, and a friend of—Helena, + my dear, shut the door—the most dissipated woman in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Lady Anne, “Miss Portman is in a dangerous situation; but + some young people learn prudence by being placed in dangerous situations, + as some young horses, I have heard Mr. Percival say, learn to be + sure-footed, by being left to pick their own way on bad roads.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Percival, Dr. X——, and some other gentlemen, came up + stairs to tea, and the conversation took another turn. Clarence Hervey + endeavoured to take his share in it with his usual vivacity, but he was + thinking of Belinda Portman, dangerous situations, stumbling horses, &c; + and he made several blunders, which showed his absence of mind. + </p> + <p> + “What have you there, Mr. Hervey?” said Dr. X——, looking over + his shoulder—“the tragic muse? This tragic muse seems to rival Lady + Delacour in your admiration.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Clarence, smiling, “you know I was always a votary of the + muses.” + </p> + <p> + “And a favoured votary,” said Dr. X——. “I wish for the + interests of literature, that poets may always be lovers, though I cannot + say that I desire lovers should always be poets. But, Mr. Hervey, you must + never marry, remember,” continued Dr. X——, “never—for + your true poet must always be miserable. You know Petrarch tells us, he + would not have been happy if he could; he would not have married his + mistress if it had been in his power; because then there would have been + an end of his beautiful sonnets.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one to his taste,” said Clarence; “for my part I have even less + ambition to imitate the heroism than hope of being inspired with the + poetic genius of Petrarch. I have no wish to pass whole nights composing + sonnets. I would (am I not right, Mr. Percival?) infinitely rather be a + slave of the ring than a slave of the lamp.” + </p> + <p> + Here the conversation ended; Clarence took his leave, and Mrs. Margaret + Delacour said, the moment he had left the room, “Quite a different sort of + young man from what I had expected to see!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — ADVICE. + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Mr. Hervey called on Dr. X——, and + begged that he would accompany him to Lady Delacour’s. + </p> + <p> + “To be introduced to your tragic muse?” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Hervey: “I must have your opinion of her before I devote + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “My opinion! but of whom?—Of Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but of a young lady whom you will see with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she handsome?” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “And young?” + </p> + <p> + “And young.” + </p> + <p> + “And graceful?” + </p> + <p> + “The most graceful person you ever beheld.” + </p> + <p> + “Young, beautiful, graceful; then the deuce take me,” said Dr. X——, + “if I give you my opinion of her: for the odds are, that she has a + thousand faults, at least, to balance these perfections.” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand faults! a charitable allowance,” said Clarence, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “There now,” said Dr. X—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Touch him, and no minister’s so sore.’ +</pre> + <p> + To punish you for wincing at my first setting out, I promise you, that if + the lady have a million of faults, each of them high as huge Olympus, I + will see them as with the eye of a flatterer—not of a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I defy you to be so good or so bad as your word, doctor,” said Hervey. + “You have too much wit to make a good flatterer.” + </p> + <p> + “And perhaps you think too much to make a good friend,” said Dr. X——. + </p> + <p> + “Not so,” said Clarence: “I would at any time rather be cut by a sharp + knife than by a blunt one. But, my dear doctor, I hope you will not be + prejudiced against Belinda, merely because she is with Lady Delacour; for + to my certain knowledge, she in not under her ladyship’s influence. She + judges and acts for herself, of which I have had an instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Very possibly!” interrupted Dr. X——. “But before we go any + farther, will you please to tell me of what Belinda you are talking?” + </p> + <p> + “Belinda Portman. I forgot that I had not told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman, a niece of Mrs. Stanhope’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but do not be prejudiced against her on that account,” said + Clarence, eagerly, “though I was at first myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will excuse my following your example instead of your precepts.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Clarence, “for my precepts are far better than my example.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour received Dr. X—— most courteously, and thanked + Mr. Hervey for introducing to her a gentleman with whom she had long + desired to converse. Dr. X—— had a great literary reputation, + and she saw that he was a perfectly well-bred man; consequently she was + ambitious of winning his admiration. She perceived also that he had + considerable influence with Clarence Hervey, and this was a sufficient + reason to make her wish for his good opinion. Belinda was particularly + pleased with his manners and conversation; she saw that he paid her much + attention, and she was desirous that he should think favourably of her; + but she had the good sense and good taste to avoid a display of her + abilities and accomplishments. A sensible man, who has any knowledge of + the world and talents for conversation, can easily draw out the knowledge + of those with whom he converses. Dr. X—— possessed this + power in a superior degree. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” cried Clarence, when their visit was over, “what is your opinion + of Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “I am ‘blasted with excess of light,’” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship is certainly very brilliant,” said Clarence, “but I hope + that Miss Portman did not overpower you.” + </p> + <p> + “No—I turned my eyes from Lady Delacour upon Miss Portman, as a + painter turns his eyes upon mild green, to rest them, when they have been + dazzled by glaring colours. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘She yields her charms of mind with sweet delay.’” + </pre> + <p> + “I was afraid,” said Hervey, “that you might think her manners too + reserved and cold: they are certainly become more so than they used to be. + But so much the better; by and by we shall find beautiful flowers spring + up from beneath the snow.’” + </p> + <p> + “A very poetical hope,” said Dr. X——; “but in judging + of the human character, we must not entirely trust to analogies and + allusions taken from the vegetable creation.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Clarence Hervey, looking eagerly in the doctor’s eyes, “what + do you mean? I am afraid you do not approve of Belinda.” + </p> + <p> + “Your fears are almost as precipitate as your hopes, my good sir: but to + put you out of pain, I will tell you, that I approve of all I have seen of + this young lady, but that it is absolutely out of my power to form a + decisive judgment of a woman’s temper and character in the course of a + single morning visit. Women, you know, as well as men, often speak with + one species of enthusiasm, and act with another. I must see your Belinda + act, I must study her, before I can give you my final judgment. Lady + Delacour has honoured me with her commands to go to her as often as + possible. For your sake, my dear Hervey, I shall obey her ladyship most + punctually, that I may have frequent opportunities of seeing your Miss + Portman.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence expressed his gratitude with much energy, for this instance of + the doctor’s friendship. Belinda, who had been entertained by Dr. X——‘s + conversation during this first visit, was more and more delighted with his + company as she became more acquainted with his understanding and + character. She felt that he unfolded her powers, and that with the + greatest politeness and address he raised her confidence in herself, + without ever descending to flattery. By degrees she learned to look upon + him as a friend; she imparted to him with great ingenuousness her opinions + on various subjects, and she was both amused and instructed by his + observations on the characters and manners of the company who frequented + Lady Delacour’s assemblies. She did not judge of the doctor’s sincerity + merely by the kindness he showed her, but by his conduct towards others. + </p> + <p> + One night, at a select party at Lady Delacour’s, a Spanish gentleman was + amusing the company with some anecdotes, to prove the extraordinary + passion which some of his countrymen formerly showed for the game of + chess. He mentioned families, in which unfinished games, bequeathed by + will, had descended from father to son, and where victory was doubtful for + upwards of a century. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey observed, that gaining a battle was, at that time, so common to + the court of Spain, that a victory at chess seemed to confer more <i>éclat</i>; + for that an abbé, by losing adroitly a game at chess to the Spanish + minister, obtained a cardinal’s hat. + </p> + <p> + The foreigner was flattered by the manner in which Hervey introduced this + slight circumstance, and he directed to him his conversation, speaking in + French and Italian successively; he was sufficiently skilled in both + languages, but Clarence spoke them better. Till he appeared, the foreigner + was the principal object of attention, but he was soon eclipsed by Mr. + Hervey. Nothing amusing or instructive that could be said upon the game of + chess escaped him, and the literary ground, which the slow Don would have + taken some hours to go regularly over, our hero traversed in a few + minutes. From Twiss to Vida, from Irwin to Sir William Jones, from Spain + to India, he passed with admirable celerity, and seized all that could + adorn his course from Indian Antiquities or Asiatic Researches. + </p> + <p> + By this display of knowledge he surprised even his friend Dr. X——. + The ladies admired his taste as a poet, the gentlemen his accuracy as a + critic; Lady Delacour loudly applauded, and Belinda silently approved. + Clarence was elated. The Spanish gentleman, to whom he had just quoted a + case in point from Vida’s Scacchia, asked him if he were as perfect in the + practice as in the theory of the game. Clarence was too proud of excelling + in every thing to decline the Spaniard’s challenge. They sat down to + chess. Lady Delacour, as they ranged the pieces on the board, cried, + “Whoever wins shall be my knight; and a silver chess-man shall be his + prize. Was it not Queen Elizabeth who gave a silver chess-man to one of + her courtiers as a mark of her royal favour? I am ashamed to imitate such + a pedantic coquet—but since I have said it, how can I retract?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! impossible!” cried Clarence Hervey: “a silver chess-man be + our prize; and if I win it, like the gallant Raleigh, I will wear it in my + cap; and what proud Essex shall dare to challenge it?” + </p> + <p> + The combat now began—the spectators were silent. Clarence made an + error in his first move, for his attention was distracted by seeing + Belinda behind his adversary’s chair. The Spaniard was deceived by this + mistake into a contemptuous opinion of his opponent—Belinda changed + her place—Clarence recovered his presence of mind, and convinced him + that he was not a man to be despised. The combat was long doubtful, but at + length to the surprise of all present, Clarence Hervey was victorious. + </p> + <p> + Exulting in his success, he looked round for Lady Delacour, from whom he + expected the honours of his triumph. She had left the room, but soon she + returned, dressed in the character of Queen Elizabeth, in which she had + once appeared at a masquerade, with a large ruff, and all the costume of + the times. + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey, throwing himself at her feet, addressed her in that + high-flown style which her majesty was wont to hear from the gallant + Raleigh, or the accomplished Essex. + </p> + <p> + Soon the coquetry of the queen entirely conquered her prudery; and the + favoured courtier, evidently elated by his situation, was as enthusiastic + as her majesty’s most insatiable vanity could desire. The characters were + well supported; both the actor and actress were highly animated, and + seemed so fully possessed by their parts as to be insensible to the + comments that were made upon the scene. Clarence Hervey was first recalled + to himself by the deep blush which he saw on Belinda’s cheek, when Queen + Elizabeth addressed her as one of her maids of honour, of whom she + affected to be jealous. He was conscious that he had been hurried by the + enthusiasm of the moment farther than he either wished or intended. It was + difficult to recede, when her majesty seemed disposed to advance; but Sir + Walter Raleigh, with much presence of mind, turned to the foreigner, whom + he accosted as the Spanish ambassador. + </p> + <p> + “Your excellency sees,” said he, “how this great queen turns the heads of + her faithful subjects, and afterwards has the art of paying them with + nothing but words. Has the new world afforded you any coin half so + valuable?” + </p> + <p> + The Spanish gentleman’s grave replies to this playful question gave a new + turn to the conversation, and relieved Clarence Hervey from his + embarrassment. Lady Delacour, though still in high spirits, was easily + diverted to other objects. She took the Spaniard with her to the next + room, to show him a picture of Mary, Queen of Scots. The company followed + her—Clarence Hervey remained with Dr. X—— and Belinda, + who had just asked the doctor, to teach her the moves at chess. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour has charming spirits,” said Clarence Hervey; “they inspire + every body with gaiety.” + </p> + <p> + “Every body! they incline me more to melancholy than mirth,” said Dr. X——. + “These high spirits do not seem quite natural. The vivacity of youth and + of health, Miss Portman, always charms me; but this gaiety of Lady + Delacour’s does not appear to me that of a sound mind in a sound body.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s penetration went so near the truth, that Belinda, afraid of + betraying her friend’s secrets, never raised her eyes from the chess-board + whilst he spoke, but went on setting up the fallen castles, and bishops, + and kings, with expeditious diligence. + </p> + <p> + “You are putting the bishop into the place of the knight,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour,” continued the doctor, “seems to be in a perpetual fever, + either of mind or body—I cannot tell which—and as a + professional man, I really have some curiosity to determine the question. + If I could feel her pulse, I could instantly decide; but I have heard her + say that she has a horror against having her pulse felt, and a lady’s + horror is invincible, by reason—” + </p> + <p> + “But not by address,” said Clarence. “I can tell you a method of counting + her pulse, without her knowing it, without her seeing you, without your + seeing her.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Dr. X——, smiling; “that may be a useful secret + in my profession; pray impart it to me—you who excel in every + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in earnest, Mr. Hervey?” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly in earnest—my secret is quite simple. Look through the + door at the shadow of Queen Elizabeth’s ruff—observe how it + vibrates; the motion as well as the figure is magnified in the shadow. + Cannot you count every pulsation distinctly?” + </p> + <p> + “I can,” said Dr. X——, “and I give you credit for making an + ingenious use of a trifling observation.” The doctor paused and looked + round. “Those people cannot hear what we are saying, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Belinda, “they are intent upon themselves.” Doctor X——fixed + his eyes mildly upon Clarence Hervey, and exclaimed in an earnest friendly + tone—“What a pity, Mr. Hervey, that a young man of your talents and + acquirements, a man who might be any thing, should—pardon the + expression—choose to be—nothing; should waste upon petty + objects powers suited to the greatest; should lend his soul to every + contest for frivolous superiority, when the same energy concentrated might + ensure honourable pre-eminence among the first men in his country. Shall + he who might not only distinguish himself in any science or situation, who + might not only acquire personal fame, but, oh, far more noble motive! who + might be permanently useful to his fellow-creatures, content himself with + being the evanescent amusement of a drawing-room?—Shall one, who + might be great in public, or happy in private life, waste in this + deplorable manner the best years of his existence—time that can + never be recalled?—This is declamation!—No: it is truth put + into the strongest language that I have power to use, in the hope of + making some impression: I speak from my heart, for I have a sincere regard + for you, Mr. Hervey, and if I have been impertinent, you must forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you!” cried Clarence Hervey, taking Dr. X—— by the + hand, “I think you a real friend; you shall have the best thanks not in + words, but in actions: you have roused my ambition, and I will pursue + noble ends by noble means. A few years have been sacrificed; but the + lessons that they have taught me remain. I cannot, presumptuous as I am, + flatter myself that my exertions can be of any material utility to my + fellow-creatures, but what I can do I will, my excellent friend! If I be + hereafter either successful in public, or happy in private life, it is to + you I shall owe it.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda was touched by the candour and good sense with which Clarence + Hervey spoke. His character appeared in a new light: she was proud of her + own judgment, in having discerned his merit, and for a moment she + permitted herself to feel “unreproved pleasure in his company.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning, Sir Philip Baddely and Mr. Rochfort called at Lady + Delacour’s—Mr. Hervey was present—her ladyship was summoned to + Mrs. Franks, and Belinda was left with these gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + “Why, damme, Clary! you have been a lost man,” cried Sir Philip, “ever + since you were drowned. Damme, why did not you come to dine with us that + day, now I recollect it? We were all famously merry; but for your comfort, + Clarence, we missed you cursedly, and were damned sorry you ever took that + unlucky jump into the Serpentine river—damned sorry, were not we, + Rochfort?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Clarence, in an ironical tone, “you need no vouchers to + convince me of the reality of your sorrow. You know I can never forget + your jumping so courageously into the river, to save the life of your + friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pooh! damn it,” said Sir Philip, “what signifies who pulled you out, + now you are safe and sound? By-the-bye, Clary, did you ever quiz that + doctor, as I desired you? No, that I’m sure you didn’t; but I think he has + made a quiz of you: for, damme, I believe you have taken such a fancy to + the old quizzical fellow, that you can’t live without him. Miss Portman, + don’t you admire Hervey’s taste?” + </p> + <p> + “In this instance I certainly do admire Mr. Hervey’s taste,” said Belinda, + “for the best of all possible reasons, because it entirely agrees with my + own.” + </p> + <p> + “Very extraordinary, faith,” said Sir Philip. + </p> + <p> + “And what the devil can you find to like in him, Clary?” continued Mr. + Rochfort, “for one wouldn’t be so rude to put that question to a lady. + Ladies, you know, are never to be questioned about their likings and + dislikings. Some have pet dogs, some have pet cats: then why not a <i>pet + quiz?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha! that’s a good one, Rochfort—a pet quiz!—Ha! ha! + ha! Dr. X—— shall be Miss Portman’s pet quiz. Put it about, + put it about, Rochfort,” continued the witty baronet, and he and his + facetious companion continued to laugh as long as they possibly could at + this happy hit. + </p> + <p> + Belinda, without being in the least discomposed by their insolent folly, + as soon as they had finished laughing, very coolly observed, that she + could have no objection to give her reasons for preferring Dr. X——‘s + company but for fear they might give offence to Sir Philip and his + friends. She then defended the doctor with so much firmness, and yet with + so much propriety, that Clarence Hervey was absolutely enchanted with her, + and with his own penetration in having discovered her real character, + notwithstanding her being Mrs. Stanhope’s niece. + </p> + <p> + “I never argue, for my part,” cried Mr. Rochfort: “‘pon honour, ‘tis a + deal too much trouble. A lady, a handsome lady, I mean, is always in the + right with me.” + </p> + <p> + “But as to you, Hervey,” said Sir Philip, “damme, do you know, my boy, + that our club has come to a determination to black-ball you, if you keep + company with this famous doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Your club, Sir Philip, will do me honour by such an ostracism.” + </p> + <p> + “Ostracism!” repeated Sir Philip.—“In plain English, does that mean + that you choose to be black-balled by us? Why, damn it, Clary, you’ll be + nobody. But follow your own genius—damn me, if I take it upon me to + understand your men of genius—they are in the Serpentine river one + day, and in the clouds the next: so fare ye well, Clary. I expect to see + you a doctor of physic, or a methodist parson, soon, damn me if I don’t: + so fare ye well, Clary. Is black-ball your last word? or will you think + better on’t, and give up the doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “I can never give up Dr. X——‘s friendship—I would sooner + be black-balled by every club in London. The good lesson you gave me, Sir + Philip, the day I was fool enough to jump into the Serpentine river, has + made me wiser for life. I know, for I have felt, the difference between + real friends and fashionable acquaintance. Give up Dr. X——! + Never! never!” + </p> + <p> + “Then fare you well, Clary,” said Sir Philip, “you’re no longer one of + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Then fare ye well, Clary, you’re no longer the man for me,” said + Rochfort. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Tant pis</i>, and <i>tant mieux</i>” said Clarence, and so they + parted. + </p> + <p> + As they left the room, Clarence Hervey involuntarily turned to Belinda, + and he thought that he read in her ingenuous, animated countenance, full + approbation of his conduct. + </p> + <p> + “Hist! are they gone? quite gone?” said Lady Delacour, entering the room + from an adjoining apartment; “they have stayed an unconscionable time. How + much I am obliged to Mrs. Franks for detaining me! I have escaped their + vapid impertinence; and in truth, this morning I have such a multiplicity + of business, that I have scarcely a moment even for wit and Clarence + Hervey. Belinda, my dear, will you have the charity to look over some of + these letters for me, which, as Marriott tells me, have been lying in my + writing-table this week—expecting, most unreasonably, that I should + have the grace to open them? We are always punished for our indolence, as + your friend Dr. X—— said the other day: if we suffer business + to accumulate, it drifts with every ill wind like snow, till at last an + avalanche of it comes down at once, and quite overwhelms us. Excuse me, + Clarence,” continued her ladyship, as she opened her letters, “this is + very rude: but I know I have secured my pardon from you by remembering + your friend’s wit—wisdom, I should say: how seldom are wit and + wisdom joined! They might have been joined in Lady Delacour, perhaps—there’s + vanity!—if she had early met with such a friend as Dr. X——; + but it’s too late now,” said she, with a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey heard it, and it made a great impression upon his + benevolent imagination. “Why too late?” said he to himself. “Mrs. Margaret + Delacour is mistaken, if she thinks this woman wants sensibility.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there, Miss Portman?” said Lady Delacour, taking from + Belinda’s hand one of the letters which she had begged her to look over: + “something wondrous pathetic, I should guess, by your countenance. ‘<i>Helena + Delacour</i>.’ Oh! read it to yourself, my dear—a school-girl’s + letter is a thing I abominate—I make it a rule never to read + Helena’s epistles.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me prevail upon your ladyship to make an exception to the general + rule then,” said Belinda; “I can assure you this is not a common + school-girl’s letter: Miss Delacour seems to inherit her mother’s ‘<i>eloquence + de billet</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman seems to possess, by inheritance, by instinct, by magic, or + otherwise, powers of persuasion, which no one can resist. There’s + compliment for compliment, my dear. Is there any thing half so well turned + in Helena’s letter? Really, ‘tis vastly well,” continued her ladyship, as + she read the letter: “where did the little gipsy learn to write so + charmingly? I protest I should like of all things to have her at home with + me this summer—the 21st of June—well, after the birthday, I + shall have time to think about it. But then, we shall be going out of + town, and at Harrowgate I should not know what to do with her; she had + better, much better, go to her humdrum Aunt Margaret’s, as she always does—she + is a fixture in Grosvenor-square. These stationary good people, these + zoophite friends, are sometimes very convenient; and Mrs. Margaret + Delacour is the most unexceptionable zoophite in the creation. She has, it + is true, an antipathy to me, because I’m of such a different nature from + herself; but then her antipathy does not extend to my offspring: she is + kind beyond measure to Helena, on purpose, I believe, to provoke me. Now I + provoke her in my turn, by never being provoked, and she saves me a vast + deal of trouble, for which she is overpaid by the pleasure of abusing me. + This is the way of the world, Clarence. Don’t look so serious—you + are not come yet to daughters and sons, and schools and holidays, and all + the evils of domestic life.” + </p> + <p> + “Evils!” repeated Clarence Hervey, in a tone which surprised her ladyship. + She looked immediately with a significant smile at Belinda. “Why do not + you echo <i>evils</i>, Miss Portman?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Lady Delacour,” interrupted Clarence Hervey, “when do you go to + Harrowgate?” + </p> + <p> + “What a sudden transition!” said Lady Delacour. “What association of ideas + could just at that instant take you to Harrowgate? When do I go to + Harrowgate? Immediately after the birthday, I believe we shall—I + advise you to be of the party.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship does me a great deal of honour,” said Hervey: “I shall, if + it be possible, do myself the honour of attending you.” + </p> + <p> + And soon after this arrangement was made, Mr. Hervey took his leave. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, are you still poring over that letter of Helena’s?” said + Lady Delacour to Miss Portman. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy your ladyship did not quite finish it,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “No; I saw something about the Leverian Museum, and a swallow’s nest in a + pair of garden-shears; and I was afraid I was to have a catalogue of + curiosities, for which I have little taste and less time.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not see, then, what Miss Delacour says of the lady who took her + to that Museum?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I. What lady? her Aunt Margaret?” + </p> + <p> + “No; Mrs. Margaret Delacour, she says, has been so ill for some time past, + that she goes no where but to Lady Anne Percival’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor woman,” said Lady Delacour, “she will die soon, and then I shall + have Helena upon my hands, unless some other kind friend takes a fancy to + her. Who is this lady that has carried her to the Leverian Museum?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Anne Percival; of whom she speaks with so much gratitude and + affection, that I quite long——” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless me!” interrupted Lady Delacour, “Lady Anne Percival! Helena + has mentioned this Lady Anne Percival to me before, I recollect, in some + of her letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you did read some of her letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Half!—I never read more than half, upon my word,” said Lady + Delacour, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Why will you delight in making yourself appear less good than you are, my + dear Lady Delacour?” said Belinda, taking her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Because I hate to be like other people,” said her ladyship, “who delight + in making themselves appear better than they are. But I was going to tell + you, that I do believe I did provoke Percival by marrying Lord Delacour: I + cannot tell you how much this Mea delights me—I am sure that the man + has a lively remembrance of me, or else he would never make his wife take + so much notice of my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, your ladyship does not think,” said Belinda, “that a wife is a + being whose actions are necessarily governed by a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily—but accidentally. When a lady accidentally sets up + for being a good wife, she must of course love, honour, and obey. Now, you + understand, I am not in the least obliged to Lady Anne for her kindness to + Helena, because it all goes under the head of obedience, in my + imagination; and her ladyship is paid for it by an accession of character: + she has the reward of having it said, ‘Oh, Lady Anne Percival is the best + wife in the world!’—‘Oh, Lady Anne Percival is quite a pattern + woman!’ I hate pattern women. I hope I may never see Lady Anne; for I’m + sure I should detest her beyond all things living—Mrs. Luttridge not + excepted.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda was surprised and shocked at the malignant vehemence with which + her ladyship uttered these words; it was in vain, however, that she + remonstrated on the injustice of predetermining to detest Lady Anne, + merely because she had shown kindness to Helena, and because she bore a + high character. Lady Delacour was a woman who never listened to reason, or + who listened to it only that she might parry it by wit. Upon this + occasion, her wit had not its usual effect upon Miss Portman; instead of + entertaining, it disgusted her. + </p> + <p> + “You have called me your friend, Lady Delacour,” said she; “I should but + ill deserve that name, if I had not the courage to speak the truth to you—if + I had not the courage to tell you when I think you are wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have not the courage to hear you, my dear,” said Lady Delacour, + stopping her ears. “So your conscience may be at ease; you may suppose + that you have said every thing that is wise, and good, and proper, and + sublime, and that you deserve to be called the best of friends; you shall + enjoy the office of censor to Lady Delacour, and welcome; but remember, it + is a sinecure place, though I will pay you with my love and esteem to any + extent you please. You sigh—for my folly. Alas! my dear, ‘tis hardly + worth while—my follies will soon be at an end. Of what use could + even the wisdom of Solomon be to me now? If you have any humanity, you + will not force me to reflect: whilst I yet live, I must <i>keep it up</i> + with incessant dissipation—the teetotum keeps upright only while it + spins: so let us talk of the birthnight, or the new play that we are to + see to-night, or the ridiculous figure Lady H—— made at the + concert; or let us talk of Harrowgate, or what you will.” + </p> + <p> + Pity succeeded to disgust and displeasure in Belinda’s mind, and she could + hardly refrain from tears, whilst she saw this unhappy creature, with + forced smiles, endeavour to hide the real anguish of her soul: she could + only say, “But, my dear Lady Delacour, do not you think that your little + Helena, who seems to have a most affectionate disposition, would add to + your happiness at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Her affectionate disposition can be nothing to me,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + Belinda felt a hot tear drop upon her hand, which lay upon Lady Delacour’s + lap. + </p> + <p> + “Can you wonder,” continued her ladyship, hastily wiping away the tear + which she had let fall; “can you wonder that I should talk of detesting + Lady Anne Percival? You see she has robbed me of the affections of my + child. Helena asks to come home: yes, but how does she ask it? Coldly, + formally,—as a duty. But look at the end of her letter; I have read + it all—every bitter word of it I have tasted. How differently she + writes—look even at the flowing hand—the moment she begins to + speak of Lady Anne Percival; then her soul breaks out: ‘Lady Anne has + offered to take her to Oakly-park—she should be extremely happy to + go, if I please.’ Yes, let her go; let her go as far from me as possible; + let her never, never see her wretched mother more!—Write,” said Lady + Delacour, turning hastily to Belinda, “write in my name, and tell her to + go to Oakly-park, and to be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should you take it for granted that she cannot be happy with + you?” said Belinda. “Let us see her—let us try the experiment.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lady Delacour; “no—it is too late: I will never + condescend in my last moments to beg for that affection to which it may be + thought I have forfeited my natural claim.” + </p> + <p> + Pride, anger, and sorrow, struggled in her countenance as she spoke. She + turned her face from Belinda, and walked out of the room with dignity. + </p> + <p> + Nothing remains for me to do, thought Belinda, but to sooth this haughty + spirit: all other hope, I see, is vain. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Clarence Hervey, who had no suspicion that the gay, + brilliant Lady Delacour was sinking into the grave, had formed a design + worthy of his ardent and benevolent character. The manner in which her + ladyship had spoken of his friend Dr. X——, the sigh + which she gave at the reflection that she might have been a very different + character if she had early had a sensible friend, made a great impression + upon Mr. Hervey. Till then, he had merely considered her ladyship as an + object of amusement, and an introduction to high life; but he now felt so + much interested for her, that he determined to exert all his influence to + promote her happiness. He knew <i>that</i> influence to be considerable: + not that he was either coxcomb or dupe enough to imagine that Lady + Delacour was in love with him; he was perfectly sensible that her only + wish was to obtain his admiration, and he resolved to show her that it + could no longer be secured without deserving his esteem. Clarence Hervey + was a thoroughly generous young man: capable of making the greatest + sacrifices, when encouraged by the hope of doing good, he determined to + postpone the declaration of his attachment to Belinda, that he might + devote himself entirely to his new project. His plan was to wean Lady + Delacour by degrees from dissipation, by attaching her to her daughter, + and to Lady Anne Percival. He was sanguine in all his hopes, and rapid, + but not unthinking, in all his decisions. From Lady Delacour he went + immediately to Dr. X——, to whom he communicated his + designs. + </p> + <p> + “I applaud your benevolent intentions,” said the doctor: “but have you + really the presumption to hope, that an ingenuous young man of + four-and-twenty can reform a veteran coquet of four-and-thirty?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Delacour is not yet thirty,” said Clarence; “but the older she is, + the better the chance of her giving up a losing game. She has an admirable + understanding, and she will soon—I mean as soon as she is acquainted + with Lady Anne Percival—discover that she has mistaken the road to + happiness. All the difficulty will be to make them fairly acquainted with + each other; for this, my dear doctor, I must trust to you. Do you prepare + Lady Anne to tolerate Lady Delacour’s faults, and I will prepare Lady + Delacour to tolerate Lady Anne’s virtues.” + </p> + <p> + “You have generously taken the more difficult task of the two,” replied + Dr. X——. “Well, we shall see what can be done. After the + birthday, Lady Delacour talks of going to Harrowgate: you know, Oakly-park + is not far from Harrowgate, so they will have frequent opportunities of + meeting. But, take my word for it, nothing can be done till after the + birthday; for Lady Delacour’s head is at present full of crape petticoats, + and horses, and carriages, and a certain Mrs. Luttridge, whom she hates + with a hatred passing that of women.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — THE MYSTERIOUS BOUDOIR. + </h2> + <p> + Accustomed to study human nature, Dr. X—— had acquired + peculiar sagacity in judging of character. Notwithstanding the address + with which Lady Delacour concealed the real motives for her apparently + thoughtless conduct, he quickly discovered that the hatred of Mrs. + Luttridge was her ruling passion. Above nine years of continual warfare + had exasperated the tempers of both parties, and no opportunities of + manifesting their mutual antipathy were ever neglected. Extravagantly as + Lady Delacour loved admiration, the highest possible degree of positive + praise was insipid to her taste, if it did not imply some superiority over + the woman whom she considered as a perpetual rival. + </p> + <p> + Now it had been said by the coachmaker, that Mrs. Luttridge would sport a + most elegant new vis-à-vis on the king’s birthday. Lady Delacour was + immediately ambitious to outshine her in equipage; and it was this paltry + ambition that made her condescend to all the meanness of the transaction + by which she obtained Miss Portman’s draft, and Clarence Hervey’s two + hundred guineas. The great, the important day, at length arrived—her + ladyship’s triumph in the morning at the drawing-room was complete. Mrs. + Luttridge’s dress, Mrs. Luttridge’s vis-à-vis, Mrs. Luttridge’s horses + were nothing, absolutely nothing, in comparison with Lady Delacour’s: her + ladyship enjoyed the full exultation of vanity; and at night she went in + high spirits to the ball. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dearest Belinda,” said she, as she left her dressing-room, “how + terrible a thing it is that you cannot go with me!—None of the joys + of this life are without alloy!—‘Twould be too much to see in one + night Mrs. Luttridge’s mortification, and my Belinda’s triumph. Adieu! my + love: we shall live to see another birthday, it is to be hoped. Marriott, + my drops. Oh, I have taken them.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, after her ladyship’s departure, retired to the library. Her time + passed so agreeably during Lady Delacour’s absence, that she was surprised + when she heard the clock strike twelve. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible,” thought she, “that I have spent two hours by myself in a + library without being tired of my existence?—How different are my + feelings now from what they would have been in the same circumstances six + months ago!—I should then have thought the loss of a birthnight ball + a mighty trial of temper. It is singular, that my having spent a winter + with one of the most dissipated women in England should have sobered my + mind so completely. If I had never seen the utmost extent of the pleasures + of the world, as they are called, my imagination might have misled me to + the end of my life; but now I can judge from my own experience, and I am + convinced that the life of a fine lady would never make me happy. Dr. X—— + told me, the other day, that he thinks me formed for something better, and + he is incapable of flattery.” + </p> + <p> + The idea of Clarence Hervey was so intimately connected with that of his + friend, that Miss Portman could seldom separate them in her imagination; + and she was just beginning to reflect upon the manner in which Clarence + looked, whilst he declared to Sir Philip Baddely, that he would never give + up Dr. X——, when she was startled by the entrance of Marriott. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Portman, what shall we do? what shall we do?-My lady! my poor + lady!” cried she. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “The horses—the young horses!—Oh, I wish my lady had never + seen them. Oh, my lady, my poor lady, what will become of her?” + </p> + <p> + It was some minutes before Belinda could obtain from Marriott any + intelligible account of what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “All I know, ma’am, is what James has just told me,” said Marriott. “My + lady gave the coachman orders upon no account to let Mrs. Luttridge’s + carriage get before hers. Mrs. Luttridge’s coachman would not give up the + point either. My lady’s horses were young and ill broke, they tell me, and + there was no managing of them no ways. The carriages got somehow across + one another, and my lady was overturned, and all smashed to atoms. Oh, + ma’am,” continued Marriott, “if it had not been for Mr. Hervey, they say, + my lady would never have been got out of the crowd alive. He’s bringing + her home in his own carriage, God bless him!” + </p> + <p> + “But is Lady Delacour hurt?” cried Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “She <i>must</i>,—to be sure, she must, ma’am,” cried Marriott, + putting her hand upon her bosom. “But let her be ever so much hurt, my + lady will keep it to herself: the footmen swear she did not give a scream, + not a single scream; so it’s their opinion she was no ways hurt—but + that, I know, can’t be—and, indeed, they are thinking so much about + the carriage, that they can’t give one any rational account of any thing; + and, as for myself, I’m sure I’m in such a flutter. Lord knows, I advised + my lady not to go with the young horses, no later than—” + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” cried Belinda, “here they are.” She ran down stairs instantly. The + first object that she saw was Lady Delacour in convulsions—the + street-door was open—the hall was crowded with servants. Belinda + made her way through them, and, in a calm voice, requested that Lady + Delacour might immediately be brought to her own dressing-room, and that + she should there be left to Marriott’s care and hers. Mr. Hervey assisted + in carrying Lady Delacour—she came to her senses as they were taking + her up stairs. “Set me down, set me down,” she exclaimed: “I am not hurt—I + am quite well,—Where’s Marriott? Where’s Miss Portman?” + </p> + <p> + “Here we are—you shall be carried quite safely—trust to me,” + said Belinda, in a firm tone, “and do not struggle.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour submitted: she was in agonizing pain, but her fortitude was + so great that she never uttered a groan. It was the constraint which she + had put upon herself, by endeavouring not to scream, which threw her into + convulsions. “She is hurt—I am sure she is hurt, though she will not + acknowledge it,” cried Clarence Hervey. “My ankle is sprained, that’s + all,” said Lady Delacour—“lay me on this sofa, and leave me to + Belinda.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s all this?” cried Lord Delacour, staggering into the room: he was + much intoxicated, and in this condition had just come home, as they were + carrying Lady Delacour up stairs: he could not be made to understand the + truth, but as soon as he heard Clarence Hervey’s voice, he insisted upon + going up to <i>his wife’s</i> dressing-room. It was a very unusual thing, + but neither Champfort nor any one else could restrain him, the moment that + he had formed this idea; he forced his way into the room. + </p> + <p> + “What’s all this?—Colonel Lawless!” said he, addressing himself to + Clarence Hervey, whom, in the confusion of his mind, he mistook for the + colonel, the first object of his jealousy. “Colonel Lawless,” cried his + lordship, “you are a villain. I always knew it.” + </p> + <p> + “Softly!—she’s in great pain, my lord,” said Belinda, catching Lord + Delacour’s arm, just as he was going to strike Clarence Hervey. She led + him to the sofa where Lady Delacour lay, and uncovering her ankle, which + was much swelled, showed it to him. His lordship, who was a humane man, + was somewhat moved by this appeal to his remaining senses, and he began + roaring as loud as he possibly could for arquebusade. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour rested her head upon the back of the sofa, her hands moved + with convulsive twitches—she was perfectly silent. Marriott was in a + great bustle, running backwards and forwards for she knew not what, and + continually repeating, “I wish nobody would come in here but Miss Portman + and me. My lady says nobody must come in. Lord bless me! my lord here + too!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any arquebusade, Marriott? Arquebusade, for your lady, + directly!” cried his lordship, following her to the door of the boudoir, + where she was going for some drops. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lord, you can’t come in, I assure you, my lord, there’s nothing + here, my lord, nothing of the sort,” said Marriott, setting her back + against the door. Her terror and embarrassment instantly recalled all the + jealous suspicions of Lord Delacour. “Woman!” cried he, “I <i>will</i> see + whom you have in this room!—You have some one concealed there, and I + <i>will</i> go in.” Then with brutal oaths he dragged Marriott from the + door, and snatched the key from her struggling hand. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour started up, and gave a scream of agony. “My lord!—Lord + Delacour,” cried Belinda, springing forward, “hear me.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour stopped short. “Tell me, then,” cried Lord Delacour, “is not + a lover of Lady Delacour’s concealed there?” “No!—No!—No!” + answered Belinda. “Then a lover of Miss Portman?” said Lord Delacour. + “Gad! we have hit it now, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe whatever you please, my lord,” said Belinda, hastily, “but give + me the key.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey drew the key from Lord Delacour’s hand, gave it to Miss + Portman without looking at her, and immediately withdrew. Lord Delacour + followed him with a sort of drunken laugh; and no one remained in the room + but Marriott, Belinda, and Lady Delacour. Marriott was so much <i>fluttered</i>, + as she said, that she could do nothing. Miss Portman locked the room door, + and began to undress Lady Delacour, who lay motionless. “Are we by + ourselves?” said Lady Delacour, opening her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—are you much hurt?” said Belinda. “Oh, you are a charming + girl!” said Lady Delacour. “Who would have thought you had so much + presence of mind and courage—have you the key safe?” “Here it is,” + said Belinda, producing it; and she repeated her question, “Are you much + hurt?” “I am not in pain now,” said Lady Delacour, “but I <i>have</i> + suffered terribly. If I could get rid of all this finery, if you could put + me to bed, I could sleep perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Belinda was undressing Lady Delacour, she shrieked several times; + but between every interval of pain she repeated, “I shall be better + to-morrow.” As soon as she was in bed, she desired Marriott to give her + double her usual quantity of laudanum; for that all the inclination which + she had felt to sleep was gone, and that she could not endure the shooting + pains that she felt in her breast. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone with your lady, Marriott,” said Miss Portman, taking the + bottle of laudanum from her trembling hand, “and go to bed; for I am sure + you are not able to sit up any longer.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, she took Marriott into the adjoining dressing-room. “Oh, + dear Miss Portman,” said Marriott, who was sincerely attached to her lady, + and who at this instant forgot all her jealousies, and all her love of + power, “I’ll do any thing you ask me; but pray let me stay in the room, + though I know I’m quite helpless. It will be too much for you to be here + all night by yourself. The convulsions may take my lady. What shrieks she + gives every now and then!—and nobody knows what’s the matter but + ourselves; and every body in the house is asking me why a surgeon is not + sent for, if my lady is so much hurt. Oh, I can’t answer for it to my + conscience, to have kept the matter secret so long; for to be sure a + physician, if had in time, might have saved my lady—but now nothing + can save her!” And here Marriott burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you give me the laudanum?” cried Lady Delacour, in a loud + peremptory voice; “Give it to me instantly.”—“No,” said Miss + Portman, firmly.—“Hear me, Lady Delacour—you must allow me to + judge, for you know that you are not in a condition to judge for yourself, + or rather you must allow me to send for a physician, who may judge for us + both.” + </p> + <p> + “A physician!” cried Lady Delacour, “Never—never. I charge you let + no physician be sent for. Remember your promise: you <i>cannot</i> betray + me—you <i>will</i> not betray me.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Belinda, “of that I have given sufficient proof—but you + will betray yourself: it is already known by your servants that you have + been hurt by the overturn of your carriage; if you do not let either a + surgeon or physician see you it will excite surprise and suspicion. It is + not in your power, when violent pain seizes you, to refrain from————-” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “not another scream shall you hear—only + do not, do not, my dear Belinda, send for a physician.” + </p> + <p> + “You will throw yourself again into convulsions,” said Belinda. “Marriott, + you see, has lost all command of herself—I shall not have strength + to manage you—-perhaps I may lose my presence of mind—I cannot + answer for myself—your husband may desire to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger of that,” said Lady Delacour: “tell him my ankle is sprained—tell + him I am bruised all over—tell him any thing you will—he will + not trouble himself any more about me—he will forget all that passed + to-night by the time he is sober. Oh! give me the laudanum, dearest + Belinda, and say no more about physicians.” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain to reason with Lady Delacour. Belinda attempted to persuade + her: “For my sake, dear Lady Delacour,” said she, “let me send for Dr. X——; + he is a man of honour, your secret will be perfectly safe with him.” + </p> + <p> + “He will tell it to Clarence Hervey,” said Lady Delacour: “of all men + living, I would not send for Dr. X——; I will not see + him if he comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Belinda, calmly, but with a fixed determination of + countenance, “I must leave you to-morrow morning—I must return to + Bath.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me! remember your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances have occurred, about which I have made no promise,” said + Belinda; “I must leave you, unless you will now give me your permission to + send for Dr. X——.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour hesitated. “You see,” continued Belinda, “that I am in + earnest: when I am gone, you will have no friend left; when I am gone, + your secret will inevitably be discovered; for without me, Marriott will + not have sufficient strength of mind to keep it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think we might trust Dr. X——?” said Lady + Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you may trust him,” said Belinda, with energy; “I will pledge + my life upon his honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Then send for him, since it must be so,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had the words passed Lady Delacour’s lips than Belinda flew to + execute her orders. Marriott recovered her senses when she heard that her + ladyship had consented to send for a physician; but she declared that she + could not conceive how any thing less than the power of magic could have + brought her lady to such a determination. + </p> + <p> + Belinda had scarcely despatched a servant for Dr. X——, when + Lady Delacour repented of the permission she had given, and all that could + be said to pacify only irritated her temper. She became delirious; + Belinda’s presence of mind never forsook her, she remained quietly beside + the bed waiting for the arrival of Dr. X——, and she absolutely + refused admittance to the servants, who, drawn by their lady’s outrageous + cries, continually came to her door with offers of assistance. + </p> + <p> + About four o’clock the doctor arrived, and Miss Portman was relieved from + some of her anxiety. He assured her that there was no immediate danger, + and he promised that the secret which she had entrusted to him should be + faithfully kept. He remained with her some hours, till Lady Delacour + became more quiet and fell asleep, exhausted with delirious exertions.—“I + think I may now leave you,” said Dr. X——; but as he was going + through the dressing-room, Belinda stopped him.—“Now that I have + time to think of myself,” said she, “let me consult you as my friend: I am + not used to act entirely for myself, and I shall be most grateful if you + will assist me with your advice. I hate all mysteries, but I feel myself + bound in honour to keep the secret with which Lady Delacour has entrusted + me. Last night I was so circumstanced, that I could not extricate her + ladyship without exposing myself to—to suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman then related all that had passed about the mysterious door, + which Lord Delacour, in his fit of drunken jealousy, had insisted upon + breaking open. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hervey,” continued Belinda, “was present when all this happened—he + seemed much surprised: I should be sorry that he should remain in an error + which might be fatal to my reputation—you know a woman ought not + even to be suspected; yet how to remove this suspicion I know not, because + I cannot enter into any explanation, without betraying Lady Delacour—she + has, I know, a peculiar dread of Mr. Hervey’s discovering the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “And is it possible,” cried Dr. X——, “that any woman should be + so meanly selfish, as thus to expose the reputation of her friend merely + to preserve her own vanity from mortification?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush—don’t speak so loud,” said Belinda, “you will awaken her; and + at present she is certainly more an object of pity than of indignation.—If + you will have the goodness to come with me, I will take you by a back + staircase up to the <i>mysterious boudoir</i>. I am not too proud to give + positive proofs of my speaking truth; the key of that room now lies on + Lady Delacour’s bed—it was that which she grasped in her hand during + her delirium—she has now let it fall—it opens both the doors + of the boudoir—you shall see,” added Miss Portman, with a smile, + “that I am not afraid to let you unlock either of them.” + </p> + <p> + “As a polite man,” said Dr. X——, “I believe that I should + absolutely refuse to take any external evidence of a lady’s truth; but + demonstration is unanswerable even by enemies, and I will not sacrifice + your interests to the foppery of my politeness—so I am ready to + follow you. The curiosity of the servants may have been excited by last + night’s disturbance, and I see no method so certain as that which you + propose of preventing busy rumour. That goddess (let Ovid say what he + pleases) was born and bred in a kitchen, or a servants’ hall.—But,” + continued Dr. X——, “my dear Miss Portman, you will put a stop + to a number of charming stories by this prudence of yours—a romance + called the Mysterious Boudoir, of nine volumes at least, might be written + on this subject, if you would only condescend to act like almost all other + heroines, that is to say, without common sense.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor now followed Belinda, and satisfied himself by ocular + demonstration, that this cabinet was the retirement of disease, and not of + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + It was about eight o’clock in the morning when Dr. X—— got + home; he found Clarence Hervey waiting for him. Clarence seemed to be in + great agitation, though he endeavoured, with all the power which he + possessed over himself, to suppress his emotion. + </p> + <p> + “You have been to see Lady Delacour,” said he, calmly: “is she much hurt?—It + was a terrible accident.” + </p> + <p> + “She has been much hurt,” said Dr. X——, “and she has been for + some hours delirious; but ask me no more questions now, for I am asleep, + and must go to bed, unless you have any thing to say that can waken me: + you look as if some great misfortune had befallen you; what is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear friend,” said Hervey, taking his hand, “do not jest with me; + I am not able to bear your raillery in my present temper—in one + word, I fear that Belinda is unworthy of my esteem: I can tell you no + more, except that I am more miserable than I thought any woman could make + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in a prodigious hurry to be miserable,” said Dr. X——. + “Upon my word I think you would make a mighty pretty hero in a novel; you + take things very properly for granted, and, stretched out upon that sofa, + you act the distracted lover vastly well—and to complete the matter, + you cannot tell me why you are more miserable than ever man or hero was + before. I must tell you, then, that you have still more cause for jealousy + than you suspect. Ay, start—every jealous man starts at the sound of + the word jealousy—a certain symptom this of the disease.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake me,” cried Clarence Hervey; “no man is less disposed to + jealousy than I am—but——” + </p> + <p> + “But your mistress—no, not your mistress, for you have never yet + declared to her your attachment—but the lady you admire will not let + a drunken man unlock a door, and you immediately suppose—” + </p> + <p> + “She has mentioned the circumstance to you!” exclaimed Hervey, in a joyful + tone: “then she <i>must</i> be innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Admirable reasoning!—I was going to have told you just now, if you + would have suffered me to speak connectedly, that you have more reason for + jealousy than you suspect, for Miss Portman has actually unlocked for me—for + me! look at me—the door, the mysterious door—and whilst I + live, and whilst she lives, we can neither of us ever tell you the cause + of the mystery. All I can tell you is, that no lover is in the case, upon + my honour—and now, if you should ever mistake curiosity in your own + mind for jealousy, expect no pity from me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should deserve none,” said Clarence Hervey; “you have made me the + happiest of men.” + </p> + <p> + “The happiest of men!—No, no; keep that superlative exclamation for + a future occasion. But now you behave like a reasonable creature, you + deserve to hear the praises of your Belinda—I am so much charmed + with her, that I wish—” + </p> + <p> + “When can I see her?” interrupted Hervey; “I’ll go to her this instant.” + </p> + <p> + “Gently,” said Dr. X——, “you forget what time of the day it is—you + forget that Miss Portman has been up all night—that Lady Delacour is + extremely ill—and that this would be the most unseasonable + opportunity you could possibly choose for your visit.” + </p> + <p> + To this observation Clarence Hervey assented; but he immediately seized a + pen from the doctor’s writing table, and began a letter to Belinda. The + doctor threw himself upon the sofa, saying, “Waken me when you want me,” + and in a few minutes he was fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, upon second thoughts,” said Clarence, rising suddenly, and + tearing his letter down the middle, “I cannot write to her yet—I + forgot the reformation of Lady Delacour: how soon do you think she will be + well? Besides, I have another reason for not writing to Belinda at present—you + must know, my dear doctor, that I have, or had, another mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Another mistress, indeed!” cried Dr. X——, trying to waken + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! I do believe you’ve been asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I do believe I have.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it possible that you could fall sound asleep in that time?” + </p> + <p> + “Very possible,” said the doctor: “what is there so extraordinary in a + man’s falling asleep? Men are apt to sleep sometime within the + four-and-twenty hours, unless they have half-a-dozen mistresses to keep + them awake, as you seem to have, my good friend.” + </p> + <p> + A servant now came into the room with a letter, that had just arrived + express from the country for Dr. X——. + </p> + <p> + “This is another affair,” cried he, rousing himself. + </p> + <p> + The letter required the doctor’s immediate attendance. He shook hands with + Clarence Hervey: “My dear friend, I am really concerned that I cannot stay + to hear the history of your six mistresses; but you see that this is an + affair of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell,” said Clarence: “I have not six, I have only three goddesses; + even if you count Lady Delacour for one. But I really wanted your advice + in good earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “If your case be desperate, you can write, cannot you? Direct to me at + Horton-hall, Cambridge. In the mean time, as far as general rules go, I + can give you my advice gratis, in the formula of an old Scotch song—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Tis good to be merry and wise, + ‘Tis good to be honest and true, + ‘Tis good to be off with the old love + Before you be on with the new.’” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — DIFFICULTIES. + </h2> + <p> + Before he left town, Dr. X—— called in Berkeley-square, to see + Lady Delacour; he found that she was out of all immediate danger. Miss + Portman was sorry that he was obliged to quit her at this time, but she + felt the necessity for his going; he was sent for to attend Mr. Horton, an + intimate friend of his, a gentleman of great talents, and of the most + active benevolence, who had just been seized with a violent fever, in + consequence of his exertions in saving the poor inhabitants of a village + in his neighbourhood from the effects of a dreadful fire, which broke out + in the middle of the night. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour, who heard Dr. X—— giving this account to + Belinda, drew back her curtain, and said, “Go this instant, doctor—I + am out of all immediate danger, you say; but if I were not—I must + die in the course of a few months, you know—and what is my life, compared + with the chance of saving your excellent friend! He is of some use in the + world—I am of none—go this instant, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity,” said Dr. X——, as he left the room, “that + a woman who is capable of so much magnanimity should have wasted her life + on petty objects!” + </p> + <p> + “Her life is not yet at an end—oh, sir, if you <i>could</i> save + her!” cried Belinda. + </p> + <p> + Doctor X—— shook his head; but returning to Belinda, after + going half way down stairs, he added, “when you read this paper, you will + know all that I can tell you upon the subject.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, the moment the doctor was gone, shut herself up in her own room + to read the paper which he had given to her. Dr. X—— first + stated that he was by no means certain that Lady Delacour really had the + complaint which she so much dreaded; but it was impossible for him to + decide without farther examination, to which her ladyship could not be + prevailed upon to submit. Then he mentioned all that he thought would be + most efficacious in mitigating the pain that Lady Delacour might feel, and + all that could be done, with the greatest probability of prolonging her + life. And he concluded with the following words: “These are all + temporizing expedients: according to the usual progress of the disease, + Lady Delacour may live a year, or perhaps two. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible that her life might be saved by a <i>skilful</i> surgeon. + By a few words that dropped from her ladyship last night, I apprehend that + she has some thoughts of submitting to an operation, which will be + attended with much pain and danger, even if she employ the most + experienced surgeon in London; but if she put herself, from a vain hope of + secrecy, into ignorant hands, she will inevitably destroy herself.” + </p> + <p> + After reading this paper, Belinda had some faint hopes that Lady + Delacour’s life might be saved; but she determined to wait till Dr. X——should + return to town, before she mentioned his opinion to his patient; and she + earnestly hoped that no idea of putting herself into ignorant hands would + recur to her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour, in the morning, when he was sober, retained but a confused + idea of the events of the preceding night; but he made an awkwardly + good-natured apology to Miss Portman for his intrusion, and for the + disturbance he had occasioned, which, he said, must be laid to the blame + of Lord Studley’s admirable burgundy. He expressed much concern for Lady + Delacour’s terrible accident; but he could not help observing, that if his + advice had been taken, the thing could not have happened—that it was + the consequence of her ladyship’s self-willedness about the young horses. + </p> + <p> + “How she got the horses without paying for them, or how she got money to + pay for them, I know not,” said his lordship; “for I said I would have + nothing to do with the business, and I have kept to my resolution.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship finished his morning visit to Miss Portman, by observing that + “the house would now be very dull for her: that the office of a nurse was + ill-suited to so young and beautiful a lady, but that her undertaking it + with so much cheerfulness was a proof of a degree of good-nature that was + not always to be met with in the young and handsome.” + </p> + <p> + The manner in which Lord Delacour spoke convinced Belinda that he was in + reality attached to his wife, however the fear of being, or of appearing + to be, governed by her ladyship might have estranged him from her, and + from home. She now saw in him much more good sense, and symptoms of a more + amiable character, than his lady had described, or than she ever would + allow that he possessed. + </p> + <p> + The reflections, however, which Miss Portman made upon the miserable life + this ill-matched couple led together, did not incline her in favour of + marriage in general; great talents on one side, and good-nature on the + other, had, in this instance, tended only to make each party unhappy. + Matches of interest, convenience, and vanity, she was convinced, + diminished instead of increasing happiness. Of domestic felicity she had + never, except during her childhood, seen examples—she had, indeed, + heard from Dr. X—— descriptions of the happy family of Lady + Anne Percival, but she feared to indulge the romantic hope of ever being + loved by a man of superior genius and virtue, with a temper and manners + suited to her taste. The only person she had seen, who at all answered + this description, was Mr. Hervey; and it was firmly fixed in her mind, + that he was not a marrying man, and consequently not a man of whom any + prudent woman would suffer herself to think with partiality. She could not + doubt that he liked her society and conversation; his manner had sometimes + expressed more than cold esteem. Lady Delacour had assured her that it + expressed love; but Lady Delacour was an imprudent woman in her own + conduct, and not scrupulous as to that of others. Belinda was not guided + by <i>her</i> opinions of propriety; and now that her ladyship was + confined to her bed, and not in a condition to give her either advice or + protection, she felt that it was peculiarly incumbent on her to guard, not + only her conduct from reproach, but her heart from the hopeless misery of + an ill-placed attachment. She examined herself with firm impartiality; she + recollected the excessive pain that she had endured, when she first heard + Clarence Hervey say, that Belinda Portman was a compound of art and + affectation; but this she thought was only the pain of offended pride—of + proper pride. She recollected the extreme anxiety she had felt, even + within the last four-and-twenty hours, concerning the opinion which he + might form of the transaction about the key of the boudoir—but this + anxiety she justified to herself; it was due, she thought, to her + reputation; it would have been inconsistent with female delicacy to have + been indifferent about the suspicions that necessarily arose from the + circumstances in which she was placed. Before Belinda had completed her + self-examination, Clarence Hervey called to inquire after Lady Delacour. + Whilst he spoke of her ladyship, and of his concern for the dreadful + accident of which he believed himself to be in a great measure the cause, + his manner and language were animated and unaffected; but the moment that + this subject was exhausted, he became embarrassed; though he distinctly + expressed perfect confidence and esteem for her, he seemed to wish, and + yet to be unable, to support the character of a friend, + contradistinguished to an admirer. He seemed conscious that he could not, + with propriety, advert to the suspicions and jealousy which he had felt + the preceding night; for a man who has never declared love would be absurd + and impertinent, were he to betray jealousy. Clarence was destitute + neither of address nor presence of mind; but an accident happened, when he + was just taking leave of Miss Portman, which threw him into utter + confusion. It surprised, if it did not confound, Belinda. She had + forgotten to ask Dr. X—— for his direction; and as she thought + it might be necessary to write to him concerning Lady Delacour’s health, + she begged of Mr. Hervey to give it to her. He took a letter out of his + pocket, and wrote the direction with a pencil; but as he opened the paper, + to tear off the outside, on which he had been writing, a lock of hair + dropped out of the letter; he hastily stooped for it, and as he took it up + from the ground the lock unfolded. Belinda, though she cast but one + involuntary, hasty glance at it, was struck with the beauty of its colour, + and its uncommon length. The confusion of Clarence Hervey convinced her + that he was extremely interested about the person to whom the hair + belonged, and the species of alarm which she had felt at this discovery + opened her eyes effectually to the state of her own heart. She was + sensible that the sight of a lock of hair, however long, or however + beautiful, in the hands of any man but Clarence Hervey, could not possibly + have excited any emotion in her mind. “Fortunately,” thought she, “I have + discovered that he is attached to another, whilst it is yet in my power to + command my affections; and he shall see that I am not so weak as to form + any false expectations from what I must now consider as mere common-place + flattery.” Belinda was glad that Lady Delacour was not present at the + discovery of the lock of hair, as she was aware that she would have + rallied her unmercifully upon the occasion; and she rejoiced that she had + not been prevailed upon to give <i>Madame la Comtesse de Pomenars</i> a + lock of her <i>belle chevelure</i>. She could not help thinking, from the + recollection of several minute circumstances, that Clarence Hervey had + endeavoured to gain an interest in her affections, and she felt that there + would be great impropriety in receiving his ambiguous visits during Lady + Delacour’s confinement to her room. She therefore gave orders that Mr. + Hervey should not in future be admitted, till her ladyship should again + see company. This precaution proved totally superfluous, for Mr. Hervey + never called again, during the whole course of Lady Delacour’s + confinement, though his servant regularly came every morning with + inquiries after her ladyship’s health. She kept her room for about ten + days; a confinement to which she submitted with extreme impatience: bodily + pain she bore with fortitude, but constraint and ennui she could not + endure. + </p> + <p> + One morning as she was sitting up in bed, looking over a large collection + of notes, and cards of inquiry after her health, she exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “These people will soon be tired of<a href="#linknote-4" + name="linknoteref-4" id="linknoteref-4"><small>4</small></a> bidding their + footman put it into their heads to inquire whether I am alive or dead—I + must appear amongst them again, if it be only for a few minutes, or they + will forget me. When I am fatigued, I will retire, and you, my dear + Belinda, shall represent me; so tell them to open my doors, and unmuffle + the knocker: let me hear the sound of music and dancing, and let the house + be filled again, for Heaven’s sake. Dr. Zimmermann should never have been + my physician, for he would have prescribed solitude. Now solitude and + silence are worse for me than poppy and mandragora. It is impossible to + tell how much silence tires the ears of those who have not been used to + it. For mercy’s sake, Marriott,” continued her ladyship, turning to + Marriott, who just then came softly into the room, “for mercy’s sake, + don’t walk to all eternity on tiptoes: to see people gliding about like + ghosts makes me absolutely fancy myself amongst the shades below. I would + rather be stunned by the loudest peal that ever thundering footman gave at + my door, than hear Marriott lock that boudoir, as if my life depended on + my not hearing the key turned.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! I never knew any lady that was ill, except my lady, complain of + one’s not making a noise to disturb her,” said Marriott. + </p> + <p> + “Then to please you, Marriott, I will complain of the only noise that + does, or ever did disturb me—the screaming of your odious macaw.” + </p> + <p> + Now Marriott had a prodigious affection for this macaw, and she defended + it with as much eagerness as if it had been her child. + </p> + <p> + “Odious! O dear, my lady! to call my poor macaw odious!—I didn’t + expect it would ever have come to this—I am sure I don’t deserve it—I’m + sure I don’t deserve that my lady should have taken such a dislike to me.” + </p> + <p> + And here Marriott actually burst into tears. “But, my dear Marriott,” said + Lady Delacour, “I only object to your macaw—may not I dislike your + macaw without disliking you?—I have heard of ‘love me, love my dog;’ + but I never heard of ‘love me, love my bird’—did you, Miss Portman?” + </p> + <p> + Marriott turned sharply round upon Miss Portman, and darted a fiery look + at her through the midst of her tears. “Then ‘tis plain,” said she, “who + I’m to thank for this;” and as she left the room her lady could not + complain of her shutting the door after her too gently. + </p> + <p> + “Give her three minutes’ grace and she will come to her senses,” said Lady + Delacour, “for she is not a bankrupt in sense. Oh, three minutes won’t do; + I must allow her three days’ grace, I perceive,” said Lady Delacour when + Marriott half an hour afterward reappeared, with a face which might have + sat for the picture of ill-humour. Her ill-humour, however, did not + prevent her from attending her lady as usual; she performed all her + customary offices with the most officious zeal but in profound silence, + except every now and then she would utter a sigh, which seemed to say, + “See how much I’m attached to my lady, and yet my lady hates my macaw!” + Her lady, who perfectly understood the language of sighs, and felt the + force of Marriott’s, forbore to touch again on the tender subject of the + macaw, hoping that when her house was once more filled with company, she + should be relieved by more agreeable noises from continually hearing this + pertinacious tormentor. + </p> + <p> + As soon as it was known that Lady Delacour was sufficiently recovered to + receive company, her door was crowded with carriages; and as soon as it + was understood that balls and concerts were to go on as usual at her + house, her “troops of friends” appeared to congratulate her, and to amuse + themselves. + </p> + <p> + “How stupid it is,” said Lady Delacour to Belinda, “to hear congratulatory + speeches from people, who would not care if I were in the black hole at + Calcutta this minute; but we must take the world as it goes—dirt and + precious stones mixed together. Clarence Hervey, however, <i>n’a pas une + ame de boue</i>; he, I am sure, has been really concerned for me: he + thinks that his young horses were the sole cause of the whole evil, and he + blames himself so sincerely, and so unjustly, that I really was half + tempted to undeceive him; but that would have been doing him an injury, + for you know great philosophers tell us that there is no pleasure in the + world equal to that of being well deceived, especially by the fair sex. + Seriously, Belinda, is it my fancy, or is not Clarence wonderfully + changed? Is not he grown pale, and thin, and serious, not to say + melancholy? What have you done to him since I have been ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—I have never seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “No! then the thing is accounted for very naturally—he is in despair + because he has been banished from your divine presence.” + </p> + <p> + “More likely because he has been in anxiety about your ladyship,” said + Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “I will find out the cause, let it be what it may,” said Lady Delacour: + “luckily my address is equal to my curiosity, and that is saying a great + deal.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding all her ladyship’s address, her curiosity was baffled; she + could not discover Clarence Hervey’s secret, and she began to believe that + the change which she had noticed in his looks and manner was imaginary or + accidental. Had she seen more of him at this time, she would not have so + easily given up her suspicions; but she saw him only for a few minutes + every day, and during that time he talked to her with all his former + gaiety; besides, Lady Delacour had herself a daily part to perform, which + occupied almost her whole attention. Notwithstanding the vivacity which + she affected, Belinda perceived that she was now more seriously alarmed + than she had ever been about her health. It was all that her utmost + exertions could accomplish, to appear for a short time in the day—some + evenings she came into company only for half an hour, on other days only + for a few minutes, just walked through the rooms, paid her compliments to + every body, complained of a nervous head-ache, left Belinda to do the + honours for her, and retired. + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman was now really placed in a difficult and dangerous situation, + and she had ample opportunities of learning and practising prudence. All + the fashionable dissipated young men in London frequented Lady Delacour’s + house, and it was said that they were drawn thither by the attractions of + her fair representative. The gentlemen considered a niece of Mrs. Stanhope + as their lawful prize. The ladies wondered that the men could think + Belinda Portman a beauty; but whilst they affected to scorn, they + sincerely feared her charms. Thus left entirely to her own discretion, she + was exposed at once to the malignant eye of envy, and the insidious voice + of flattery—she had no friend, no guide, and scarcely a protector: + her aunt Stanhope’s letters, indeed, continually supplied her with advice, + but with advice which she could not follow consistently with her own + feelings and principles. Lady Delacour, even if she had been well, was not + a person on whose counsels she could rely; our heroine was not one of + those daring spirits, who are ambitious of acting for themselves; she felt + the utmost diffidence of her own powers, yet at the same time a firm + resolution not to be led even by timidity into follies which the example + of Lady Delacour had taught her to despise. Belinda’s prudence seemed to + increase with the necessity for its exertion. It was not the mercenary + wily prudence of a young lady, who has been taught to think it virtue to + sacrifice the affections of her heart to the interests of her fortune—it + was not the prudence of a cold and selfish, but of a modest and generous + woman. She found it most difficult to satisfy herself in her conduct + towards Clarence Hervey: he seemed mortified and miserable if she treated + him merely as a common acquaintance, yet she felt the danger of admitting + him to the familiarity of friendship. Had she been thoroughly convinced + that he was attached to some other woman, she hoped that she could freely + converse with him, and look upon him as a married man; but notwithstanding + the lock of beautiful hair, she could not entirely divest herself of the + idea that she was beloved, when she observed the extreme eagerness with + which Clarence Hervey watched all her motions, and followed her with his + eye as if his fate depended upon her. She remarked that he endeavoured as + much as possible to prevent this species of attention from being noticed, + either by the public or by herself; his manner towards her every day + became more distant and respectful, more constrained and embarrassed; but + now and then a different look and expression escaped. She had often heard + of Mr. Hervey’s great <i>address</i> in affairs of gallantry, and she was + sometimes inclined to believe that he was trifling with her, merely for + the glory of a conquest over her heart; at other times she suspected him + of deeper designs upon her, such as would deserve contempt and + detestation; but upon the whole she was disposed to believe that he was + entangled by some former attachment from which he could not extricate + himself with honour; and upon this supposition she thought him worthy of + her esteem, and of her pity. + </p> + <p> + About this time Sir Philip Baddely began to pay a sort of lounging + attention to Belinda: he knew that Clarence Hervey liked her, and this was + the principal cause of his desire to attract her attention. “Belinda + Portman” became his favourite toast, and amongst his companions he gave + himself the air of talking of her with rapture. + </p> + <p> + “Rochfort,” said he, one day, to his friend, “damme, if I was to think of + Belinda Portman in <i>any way</i>—you take me—Clary would look + damned blue—hey?—damned blue, and devilish small, and cursed + silly too—hey?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Pon honour, I should like to see him,” said Rochfort: “‘pon honour, he + deserves it from us, Sir Phil, and I’ll stand your friend with the girl, + and it will do no harm to give her a hint of Clary’s Windsor flame, as a + dead secret—‘pon honour, he deserves it from us.” + </p> + <p> + Now it seems that Sir Philip Baddely and Mr. Rochfort, during the time of + Clarence Hervey’s intimacy with them, observed that he paid frequent + visits at Windsor, and they took it into their heads that he kept a + mistress there. They were very curious to see her: and, unknown to + Clarence, they made several attempts for this purpose: at last one + evening, when they were certain that he was not at Windsor, they scaled + the high garden wall of the house which he frequented, and actually + obtained a sight of a beautiful young girl and an elderly lady, whom they + took for her gouvernante. This adventure they kept a profound secret from + Clarence, because they knew that he would have quarrelled with them + immediately, and would have called them to account for their intrusion. + They now determined to avail themselves of their knowledge, and of his + ignorance of this circumstance: but they were sensible that it was + necessary to go warily to work, lest they should betray themselves. + Accordingly they began by dropping distant mysterious hints about Clarence + Hervey to Lady Delacour and Miss Portman. Such for instance as—“Damme, + we all know Clary’s a perfect connoisseur in beauty—hey, Rochfort?—one + beauty at a time is not enough for him—hey, damme? And it is not + fashion, nor wit, nor elegance, and all that, that he looks for <i>always</i>.” + </p> + <p> + These observations were accompanied with the most significant looks. + Belinda heard and saw all this in painful silence, but Lady Delacour often + used her address to draw some farther explanation from Sir Philip: his + regular answer was, “No, no, your ladyship must excuse me there; I can’t + peach, damme—hey, Rochfort?” + </p> + <p> + He was in hopes, from the reserve with which Miss Portman began to treat + Clarence, that he should, without making any distinct charge, succeed in + disgusting her with his rival. Mr. Hervey was about this time less + assiduous than formerly in his visits at Lady Delacour’s; Sir Philip was + there every day, and often for Miss Portman’s entertainment exerted + himself so far as to tell the news of the town. One morning, when Clarence + Hervey happened to be present, the baronet thought it incumbent upon him + to eclipse his rival in conversation, and he began to talk of the last + fête champêtre at Frogmore. + </p> + <p> + “What a cursed unlucky overturn that was of yours, Lady Delacour, with + those famous young horses! Why, what with this sprain, and this nervous + business, you’ve not been able to stir out since the birthday, and you’ve + missed the breakfast, and all that, at Frogmore—why, all the world + stayed broiling in town on purpose for it, and you that had a card too—how + damned provoking!” + </p> + <p> + “I regret extremely that my illness prevented me from being at this + charming fête; I regret it more on Miss Portman’s account than on my own,” + said her ladyship. Belinda assured her that she felt no mortification from + the disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “O, damme! but I would have driven you in my curricle,” said Sir Philip: + “it was the finest sight and best conducted I ever saw, and only wanted + Miss Portman to make it complete. We had gipsies, and Mrs. Mills the + actress for the queen of the gipsies; and she gave us a famous good song, + Rochfort, you know—and then there <i>was</i> two children upon an <i>ass</i>—damme, + I don’t know how they came there, for they’re things one sees every day—and + belonged only to two of the soldiers’ wives—for we had the whole + band of the Staffordshire playing at dinner, and we had some famous glees—and + Fawcett gave us his laughing song, and then we had the launching of the + ship, and only it was a boat, it would have been well enough—but + damme, the song of Polly Oliver was worth the whole—except the + Flemish Hercules, Ducrow, you know, dressed in light blue and silver, and—Miss + Portman, I wish you had seen this—three great coach-wheels on his + chin, and a ladder and two chairs and two children on them—and after + that, he sported a musquet and bayonet with the point of the bayonet on + his chin—faith! that was really famous! But I forgot the Pyrrhic + dance, Miss Portman, which was damned fine too—-danced in boots and + spurs by those Hungarian fellows—they jump and turn about, and clap + their knees with their hands, and put themselves in all sorts of ways—and + then we had that song of Polly Oliver, as I told you before, and Mrs. + Mills gave us—no, no—it was a drummer of the Staffordshire + dressed as a gipsy girl, gave us <i>the cottage on the moor</i>, the most + charming thing, and would suit your voice, Miss Portman—damme, you’d + sing it like an angel——But where was I?—Oh, then they + had tea—and fireplaces built of brick, out in the air—and then + the entrance to the ball-room was all a colonnade done with lamps and + flowers, and that sort of thing—and there was some bon-mot (but that + was in the morning) amongst the gipsies about an orange and the + stadtholder—and then there was a Turkish dance, and a Polonese + dance, all very fine, but nothing to come up to the Pyrrhic touch, which + was a great deal the most knowing, in boots and spurs—damme, now, I + can’t describe the thing to you, ‘tis a cursed pity you weren’t there, + damme.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour assured Sir Philip that she had been more entertained by the + description than she could have been by the reality.—“Clarence, was + not it the best description you ever heard? But pray favour us with <i>a + touch</i> of the Pyrrhic dance, Sir Philip.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour spoke with such polite earnestness, and the baronet had so + little penetration and so much conceit, that he did not suspect her of + irony: he eagerly began to exhibit the Pyrrhic dance, but in such a manner + that it was impossible for human gravity to withstand the sight—Rochfort + laughed first, Lady Delacour followed him, and Clarence Hervey and Belinda + could no longer restrain themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Damme, now I believe you’ve all been quizzing me,” cried the baronet, and + he fell into a sulky silence, eyeing Clarence Hervey and Miss Portman from + time to time with what he meant for a <i>knowing</i> look. His silence and + sulkiness lasted till Clarence took his leave. Soon afterward Belinda + retired to the music-room. Sir Philip then begged to speak a few words to + Lady Delacour, with a face of much importance: and after a preamble of + nonsensical expletives, he said that his regard for her ladyship and Miss + Portman made him wish to explain hints which had been dropped from him at + times, and which he could not explain to her satisfaction, without a + promise of inviolable secresy. “As Hervey is or was a sort of a friend, I + can’t mention this sort of thing without such a preliminary.”—Lady + Delacour gave the preliminary promise, and Sir Philip informed her, that + people began to take notice that Hervey was an admirer of Miss Portman, + and that it might be a disadvantage to the young lady, as Mr. Hervey could + have no serious intentions, because he had an attachment, to his certain + knowledge, elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + “A matrimonial attachment?” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Why, damme, as to matrimony, I can’t say; but the girl’s so famously + beautiful, and Clary has been constant to her so many years——” + </p> + <p> + “Many years! then she is not young?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damme, yes, she is not more than seventeen,—and, let her be + what else she will, she’s a famous fine girl. I had a sight of her once at + Windsor, by stealth.” + </p> + <p> + And then the baronet described her after his manner.—“Where Clary + keeps her now, I can’t make out; but he has taken her away from Windsor. + She was then with a gouvernante, and is as proud as the devil, which + smells like matrimony for Clary.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you know this peerless damsel’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “I think the old Jezebel called her Miss St. Pierre—ay, damme, it + was Virginia too—Virginia St. Pierre.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia St. Pierre, a pretty romantic name,” said Lady Delacour: “Miss + Portman and I are extremely obliged by your attention to the preservation + of our hearts, and I promise you we shall keep your counsel and our own.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Philip then, with more than his usual complement of oaths, pronounced + Miss Portman to be the finest girl he had ever seen, and took his leave. + </p> + <p> + When Lady Delacour repeated this story to Belinda, she concluded by + saying, “Now, my dear, you know Sir Philip Baddely has his own views in + telling us all this—in telling <i>you</i>, all this; for evidently + he admires you, and consequently hates Clarence. So I believe only half + the man says; and the other half, though it has made you turn so horribly + pale, my love, I consider as a thing of no manner of consequence to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of no manner of consequence to me, I assure your ladyship,” said Belinda; + “I have always considered Mr. Hervey as—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as a common acquaintance, no doubt—but we’ll pass over all + those pretty speeches: I was going to say that this ‘mistress in the wood’ + can be of no consequence to your happiness, because, whatever that fool + Sir Philip may think, Clarence Hervey is not a man to go and marry a girl + who has been his mistress for half a dozen years. Do not look so shocked, + my dear—I really cannot help laughing. I congratulate you, however, + that the thing is no worse—it is all in rule and in course—when + a man marries, he sets up new equipages, and casts off old mistresses; or + if you like to see the thing as a woman of sentiment rather than as a + woman of the world, here is the prettiest opportunity for your lover’s + making a sacrifice. I am sorry I cannot make you smile, my dear; but + consider, as nobody knows this naughty thing but ourselves, we are not + called upon to bristle up our morality, and the most moral ladies in the + world do not expect men to be as moral as themselves: so we may suit the + measure of our external indignation to our real feelings. Sir Philip + cannot stir in the business, for he knows Clarence would call him out if + his secret visit to Virginia were to come to light. I advise you <i>d’aller + votre train</i> with Clarence, without seeming to suspect him in the + least; there is nothing like innocence in these cases, my dear: but I know + by the Spanish haughtiness of your air at this instant, that you would + sooner die the death of the sentimental—than follow my advice.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, without any haughtiness, but with firm gentleness, replied, that + she had no designs whatever upon Mr. Hervey, and that therefore there + could be no necessity for any manoeuvring on her part;—that the + ambiguity of his conduct towards her had determined her long since to + guard her affections, and that she had the satisfaction to feel that they + were entirely under her command. + </p> + <p> + “That is a great satisfaction, indeed, my dear,” said Lady Delacour. “It + is a pity that your countenance, which is usually expressive enough, + should not at this instant obey your wishes and express perfect felicity. + But though you feel no pain from disappointed affection, doubtless the + concern that you show arises from the necessity you are under of + withdrawing a portion of your esteem from Mr. Hervey—this is the + style for you, is it not? After all, my dear, the whole maybe a + quizzification of Sir Philip’s—and yet he gave me such a minute + description of her person! I am sure the man has not invention or taste + enough to produce such a fancy piece.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he mention,” said Belinda, in a low voice, “the colour of her hair?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, light brown; but the colour of this hair seems to affect you more + than all the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Here, to Belinda’s great relief, the conversation was interrupted by the + entrance of Marriott. From all she had heard, but especially from the + agreement between the colour of the hair which dropped from Hervey’s + letter with Sir Philip’s description of Virginia’s, Miss Portman was + convinced that Clarence had some secret attachment; and she could not help + blaming him in her own mind for having, as she thought, endeavoured to + gain her affections, whilst he knew that his heart was engaged to another. + Mr. Hervey, however, gave her no farther reason to suspect him of any + design to win her love; for about this time his manner towards her + changed,—he obviously endeavoured to avoid her; his visits were + short, and his attention was principally directed to Lady Delacour; when + she retired, he took his leave, and Sir Philip Baddely had the field to + himself. The baronet, who thought that he had succeeded in producing a + coldness between Belinda and his rival, was surprised to find that he + could not gain any advantage for himself; for some time he had not the + slightest thoughts of any serious connexion with the lady, but at last he + was piqued by her indifference, and by the raillery of his friend + Rochfort. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pon honour,” said Rochfort, “the girl must be in love with Clary, for + she minds you no more than if you were nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “I could make her sing to another tune, if I pleased,” said Sir Philip; + “but, damme, it would cost me too much—a wife’s too expensive a + thing, now-a-days. Why, a man could have twenty curricles, and a fine + stud, and a pack of hounds, and as many mistresses as he chooses into the + bargain, for what it would cost him to take a wife. Oh, damme, Belinda + Portman’s a fine girl, but not worth so much as that comes to; and yet, + confound me, if I should not like to see how blue Clary would look, if I + were to propose for her in good earnest—hey, Rochfort?—I + should like to pay him for the way he served us about that quiz of a + doctor, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Rochfort, “you know he told us there was a <i>tant pis</i> and + a <i>tant mieux</i> in every thing—he’s not come to the <i>tant pis</i> + yet. ‘Pon honour, Sir Philip, the thing rests with you.” + </p> + <p> + The baronet vibrated for some time between the fear of being taken in by + one of Mrs. Stanhope’s nieces, and the hope of triumphing over Clarence + Hervey. At last, what he called love prevailed over prudence, and he was + resolved, cost him what it would, to have Belinda Portman. He had not the + least doubt of being accepted, if he made a proposal of marriage; + consequently, the moment that he came to this determination, he could not + help assuming <i>d’avance</i> the tone of a favoured lover. + </p> + <p> + “Damme,” cried Sir Philip, one night, at Lady Delacour’s concert, “I think + that Mr. Hervey has taken out a patent for talking to Miss Portman; but + damme if I give up this place, now I have got it,” cried the baronet, + seating himself beside Belinda. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey did not contest his seat, and Sir Philip kept his post during + the remainder of the concert; but, though he had the field entirely to + himself, he could not think of any thing more interesting, more amusing, + to whisper in Belinda’s ear, than, “Don’t you think the candles want + snuffing famously?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — THE MACAW. + </h2> + <p> + The baronet determined the next day upon the grand attack. He waited upon + Miss Portman with the certainty of being favourably received; but he was, + nevertheless, somewhat embarrassed to know how to begin the conversation, + when he found himself alone with the lady. + </p> + <p> + He twirled and twisted a short stick that he held in his hand, and put it + into and out of his boot twenty times, and at last he began with—“Lady + Delacour’s not gone to Harrowgate yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No: her ladyship has not yet felt herself well enough to undertake the + journey.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a cursed unlucky overturn! She may thank Clarence Hervey for + that: it’s like him,—he thinks he’s a better judge of horses, and + wine, and every thing else, than any body in the world. Damme, now if I + don’t believe he thinks nobody else but himself has eyes enough to see + that a fine woman’s a fine woman; but I’d have him to know, that Miss + Belinda Portman has been Sir Philip Baddely’s toast these two months.” + </p> + <p> + As this intelligence did not seem to make the expected impression upon + Miss Belinda Portman, Sir Philip had recourse again to his little stick, + with which he went through the sword exercise. After a silence of some + minutes, and after walking to the window, and back again, as if to look + for sense, he exclaimed, “How is Mrs. Stanhope now, pray, Miss Portman? + and your sister, Mrs. Tollemache? she was the finest woman, I thought, the + first winter she came out, that ever I saw, damme. Have you ever been told + that you’re like her?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damn it then, but you are; only ten times handsomer.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten times handsomer than the finest woman you ever saw, Sir Philip?” said + Belinda, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Than the finest woman I had ever seen <i>then</i>,” said Sir Philip; + “for, damme, I did not know what it was to be in love <i>then</i>” (here + the baronet heaved an audible sigh): “I always laughed at love, and all + that, <i>then</i>, and marriage particularly. I’ll trouble you for Mrs. + Stanhope’s direction, Miss Portman; I believe, to do the thing in style, I + ought to write to her before I speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda looked at him with astonishment; and laying down the pencil with + which she had just begun to write a direction to Mrs. Stanhope, she said, + “Perhaps, Sir Philip, to <i>do the thing in style</i>, I ought to pretend + at this instant not to understand you; but such false delicacy might + mislead you: permit me, therefore, to say, that if I have any concern in + the letter which you, are going to write to my aunt Stanhope——” + </p> + <p> + “Well guessed!” interrupted Sir Philip: “to be sure you have, and you’re a + charming girl—damn me if you aren’t—for meeting my ideas in + this way, which will save a cursed deal of trouble,” added the polite + lover, seating himself on the sofa, beside Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “To prevent your giving yourself any further trouble then, sir, on my + account,” said Miss Portman—— + </p> + <p> + “Nay, damme, don’t catch at that unlucky word, trouble, nor look so cursed + angry; though it becomes you, too, uncommonly, and I like pride in a + handsome woman, if it was only for variety’s sake, for it’s not what one + meets with often, now-a-days. As to trouble, all I meant was, the trouble + of writing to Mrs. Stanhope, which of course I thank you for saving me; + for to be sure, I’d rather (and you can’t blame me for that) have my + answer from your own charming lips, if it was only for the pleasure of + seeing you blush in this heavenly sort of style.” + </p> + <p> + “To put an end to this heavenly sort of style, sir,” said Belinda, + withdrawing her hand, which the baronet took as if he was confident of its + being his willing prize, “I must explicitly assure you, that it is not in + my power to encourage your addresses. I am fully sensible,” added Miss + Portman, “of the honour Sir Philip Baddely has done me, and I hope he will + not be offended by the frankness of my answer.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t be in earnest, Miss Portman!” exclaimed the astonished baronet. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly in earnest, Sir Philip.” + </p> + <p> + “Confusion seize me,” cried he, starting up, “if this isn’t the most + extraordinary thing I ever heard! Will you do me the honour, madam, to let + me know your particular objections to Sir Philip Baddely?” + </p> + <p> + “My objections,” said Belinda, “cannot be obviated, and therefore it would + be useless to state them.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, pray, ma’am, do me the favour—I only ask for information sake—is + it to Sir Philip Baddely’s fortune, 15,000l. a year, you object, or to his + family, or to his person?—Oh, curse it!” said he, changing his tone, + “you’re only quizzing me to see how I should look—damn me, you did + it too well, you little coquet!” + </p> + <p> + Belinda again assured him that she was entirely in earnest, and that she + was incapable of the sort of coquetry which he ascribed to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damme, ma’am, then I’ve no more to say—a coquet is a thing I + understand as well as another, and if we had been only talking in the air, + it would have been another thing; but when I come at once to a proposal in + form, and a woman seriously tells me she has objections that cannot be + obviated, damme, what must I, or what must the world conclude, but that + she’s very unaccountable, or that she’s engaged—which last I presume + to be the case, and it would have been a satisfaction to me to have known + it sooner—at any rate, it is a satisfaction to me to know it now.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to deprive you of so much satisfaction,” said Miss Portman, + “by assuring you, that I am not engaged to any one.” + </p> + <p> + Here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Lord Delacour, + who came to inquire of Miss Portman how his lady did. The baronet, after + twisting his little black stick into all manner of shapes, finished by + breaking it, and then having no other resource, suddenly wished Miss + Portman a good morning, and decamped with a look of silly ill-humour. He + was determined to write to Mrs. Stanhope, whose influence over her niece + he had no doubt would be decisive in his favour. “Sir Philip seems to be a + little out of sorts this morning,” said Lord Delacour: “I am afraid he’s + angry with me for interrupting his conversation; but really I did not know + he was here, and I wanted to catch you a moment alone, that I might, in + the first place, thank you for all your goodness to Lady Delacour. She has + had a tedious sprain of it; these nervous fevers and convulsions—I + don’t understand them, but I think Dr. X——‘s prescriptions + seem to have done her good, for she is certainly better of late, and I am + glad to hear music and people again in the house, because I know all this + is what my Lady Delacour likes, and there is no reasonable indulgence that + I would not willingly allow a wife; but I think there is a medium in all + things. I am not a man to be governed by a wife, and when I have once said + a thing, I like to be steady and always shall. And I am sure Miss Portman + has too much good sense to think me wrong: for now, Miss Portman, in that + quarrel about the coach and horses, which you heard part of one morning at + breakfast—I must tell you the beginning of that quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, my lord, but I would rather hear of the end than of the + beginning of quarrels.” + </p> + <p> + “That shows your good sense as well as your good nature. I wish you could + make my Lady Delacour of your taste—she does not want sense—but + then (I speak to you freely of all that lies upon my mind, Miss Portman, + for I know—I <i>know</i> you have no delight in making mischief in a + house,) between you and me, her sense is not of the right kind. A woman + may have too much wit—now too much is as bad as too little, and in a + woman, worse; and when two people come to quarrel, then wit on either + side, but more especially on the wife’s, you know is very provoking—‘tis + like concealed weapons, which are wisely forbidden by law. If a person + kill another in a fray, with a concealed weapon, ma’am, by a sword in a + cane, for instance, ‘tis murder by the law. Now even if it were not + contrary to law, I would never have such a thing in my cane to carry about + with me; for when a man’s in a passion he forgets every thing, and would + as soon lay about him with a sword as with a cane: so it is better such a + thing should not be in his power. And it is the same with wit, which would + be safest and best out of the power of some people.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it fair, my lord, to make use of wit yourself to abuse wit in + others?” said Belinda with a smile, which put his lordship into perfect + good-humour with both himself and his lady. + </p> + <p> + “Why, really,” said he, “there would be no living with Lady Delacour, if I + did not come out with a little sly bit of wit now and then; but it is what + I am not in the habit of doing, I assure you, except when very hard + pushed. But, Miss Portman, as you like so much to hear the end of + quarrels, here’s the end of one which you have a particular right to hear + something of,” continued his lordship, taking out his pocket-book and + producing some bank-notes: “you should have received this before, madam, + if I had known of the transaction sooner—of your part of it, I + mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Milord, de man call to speak about de burgundy you order, milord,” said + Champfort, who came into the room with a sly, inquisitive face. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I’ll see him immediately—show him into the parlour, and + give him a newspaper to read.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, milord—milord has it in his pocket since he dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” said his lordship; and as Champfort came forward to receive + the newspaper, his eye glanced at the bank-notes, and then at Miss + Portman. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” continued Lord Delacour, as Champfort had left the room, “here are + your two hundred guineas, Miss Portman; and as I am going to this man + about my burgundy, and shall be out all the rest of the day, let me + trouble you the next time you see Lady Delacour to give her this + pocket-book from me. I should be sorry that Miss Portman, from any thing + that has passed, should run away with the idea that I am a niggardly + husband, or a tyrant, though I certainly like to be master in my own + house. What are you doing, madam?—that is your note, that does not + go into the pocket-book, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to put it in, my lord,” said Belinda, returning the pocket-book + to him, “and to beg you will give Lady Delacour the pleasure of seeing + you: she has inquired several times whether your lordship were at home. I + will run up to her dressing-room, and tell her that you are here.” + </p> + <p> + “How lightly she goes on the wings of good-nature!” said Lord Delacour. “I + can do no less than follow her; for though I like to be treated with + respect in my own house, there is a time for every thing. I would not give + Lady Delacour the trouble of coming down here to me with her sprained + ankle, especially as she has inquired for me several times.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship’s visit was not of unseasonable length; for he recollected + that the man who came about the burgundy was waiting for him. But, + perhaps, the shortness of the visit rendered it the more pleasing, for + Lady Delacour afterward said to Belinda, “My dear, would you believe it, + my Lord Delacour was absolutely a perfect example of the useful and + agreeable this morning—who knows but he may become the sublime and + beautiful in time? <i>En attendant</i> here are your two hundred guineas, + my dear Belinda: a thousand thanks for the thing, and a million for the + manner—manner is all in all in conferring favours. My lord, who, to + do him justice, has too much honesty to pretend to more delicacy than he + really possesses, told me that he had been taking a lesson from Miss + Portman this morning in the art of obliging; and really, for a grown + gentleman, and for the first lesson, he comes on surprisingly. I do think, + that by the time he is a widower his lordship will be quite another thing, + quite an agreeable man—not a genius, not a Clarence Hervey—that + you cannot expect. Apropos, what is the reason that we have seen so little + of Clarence Hervey lately? He has certainly some secret attraction + elsewhere. It cannot be that girl Sir Philip mentioned; no, she’s nothing + new. Can it be at Lady Anne Percival’s?—or where can it be? Whenever + he sees me, I think he asks when we go to Harrowgate. Now Oakly-park is + within a few miles of Harrowgate. I will not go there, that’s decided. + Lady Anne is an exemplary matron, so she is out of the case; but I hope + she has no <i>sister excellence</i>, no niece, no cousin, to entangle our + hero.” + </p> + <p> + “Ours!” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>yours</i>, then,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Mine!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yours: I never in my life saw a better struggle between a sigh and a + smile. But what have you done to poor Sir Philip Baddely? My Lord Delacour + told me—you know all people who have nothing else to say, tell news + quicker than others—my Lord Delacour told me, that he saw Sir Philip + part from you this morning in a terrible bad humour. Come, whilst you tell + your story, help me to string these pearls; that will save you from the + necessity of looking at me, and will conceal your blushes: you need not be + afraid of betraying Sir Philip’s secrets; for I could have told you long + ago, that he would inevitably propose for you—the fact is nothing + new or surprising to me, but I should really like to hear how ridiculous + the man made himself.” + </p> + <p> + “And that,” said Belinda, “is the only thing which I do not wish to tell + your ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, my dear, surely it is no secret that Sir Philip Baddely is + ridiculous; but you are so good-natured that I can’t be out of humour with + you. If you won’t gratify my curiosity, will you gratify my taste, and + sing for me once more that charming song which none but you <i>can</i> + sing to please me?—I must learn it from you, absolutely.” + </p> + <p> + Just as Belinda was beginning to sing, Marriott’s macaw began to scream, + so that Lady Delacour could not hear any thing else. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that odious macaw!” cried her ladyship, “I can endure it no longer” + (and she rang her bell violently): “it kept me from sleeping all last + night—Marriott must give up this bird. Marriott, I cannot endure + that macaw—you must part with it for my sake, Marriott. It cost you + four guineas: I am sure I would give five with the greatest pleasure to + get rid of it, for it is the torment of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, my lady! I can assure you it is only because they will not shut the + doors after them below, as I desire. I am certain Mr. Champfort never shut + a door after him in his life, nor never will if he was to live to the days + of Methuselah.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very little satisfaction to me, Marriott,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “And indeed, my lady, it is very little satisfaction to me, to hear my + macaw abused as it is every day of my life, for Mr. Champfort’s fault.” + </p> + <p> + “But it cannot be Champfort’s fault that I have ears.” + </p> + <p> + “But if the doors were shut, my lady, you wouldn’t or couldn’t hear—as + I’ll prove immediately,” said Marriott, and she ran directly and shut, + according to her own account, “eleven doors which were stark staring wide + open.”—“Now, my lady, you can’t hear a single syllable of the + macaw.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but one of the eleven doors will open presently,” said Lady Delacour: + “you will observe it is always more than ten to one against me.” + </p> + <p> + A door opened, and the macaw was heard to scream. “The macaw must go, + Marriott, that is certain,” said her ladyship, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Then <i>I</i> must go, my lady,” said Marriott, angrily, “that is + certain; for to part with my macaw is a thing I cannot do to please <i>any</i> + body.” Her eyes turned with indignation upon Belinda, from association + merely; because the last time that she had been angry about her macaw, she + had also been angry with Miss Portman, whom she imagined to be the secret + enemy of her favourite. + </p> + <p> + “To stay another week in the house after my macaw’s discarded in disgrace + is a thing nothing shall prevail upon me to do.” She flung out of the room + in a fury. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! am I reduced to this?” said Lady Delacour: “she thinks that + she has me in her power. No; I can die without her: I have but a short + time to live—I will not live a slave. Let the woman betray me, if + she will. Follow her this moment, my dear generous friend; tell her never + to come into this room again: take this pocket-book, pay her whatever is + due to her in the first place, and give her fifty guineas—observe!—not + as a bribe, but as a reward.” + </p> + <p> + It was a delicate and difficult commission. Belinda found Marriott at + first incapable of listening to reason. “I am sure there is nobody in the + world that would treat me and my macaw in this manner, except my lady,” + cried she; “and somebody must have set her against me, for it is not + natural to her: but since she can’t bear me about her any longer, ‘tis + time I should be gone.” + </p> + <p> + “The only thing of which Lady Delacour complained was the noise of this + macaw,” said Belinda; “it was a pretty bird—how long have you had + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely a month,” said Marriott, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “And how long have you lived with your lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Six years!—And to part with her after all!—” + </p> + <p> + “And for the sake of a macaw! And at a time when your lady is so much in + want of you, Marriott! You know she cannot live long, and she has much to + suffer before she dies, and if you leave her, and if in a fit of passion + you betray the confidence she has placed in you, you will reproach + yourself for it ever afterward. This bird—or all the birds in the + world—will not be able to console you; for you are of an + affectionate disposition, I know, and sincerely attached to your poor + lady.” + </p> + <p> + “That I am!—and to betray her!—Oh, Miss Portman, I would + sooner cut off my hand than do it. And I have been tried more than my lady + knows of, or you either, for Mr. Champfort, who is the greatest + mischief-maker in the world, and is the cause, by not shutting the door, + of all this dilemma; for now, ma’am, I’m convinced, by the tenderness of + your speaking, that you are not the enemy to me I supposed, and I beg your + pardon; but I was going to say that Mr. Champfort, who saw the <i>fracas</i> + between my lord and me, about the key and the door, the night of my lady’s + accident, has whispered it about at Lady Singleton’s and every where—Mrs. + Luttridge’s maid, ma’am, who is my cousin, has pestered me with so many + questions and offers, from Mrs. Luttridge and Mrs. Freke, of any money, if + I would only tell who was in the boudoir—and I have always answered, + nobody—and I defy them to get any thing out of me. Betray my lady! + I’d sooner cut my tongue out this minute! Can she have such a base opinion + of me, or can you, ma’am?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, I am convinced that you are incapable of betraying her, + Marriott; but in all probability after you have left her——” + </p> + <p> + “If my lady would let me keep my macaw,” interrupted Marriott, “I should + never think of leaving her.” + </p> + <p> + “The macaw she will not suffer to remain in the house, nor is it + reasonable that she should: it deprives her of sleep—it kept her + awake three hours this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Marriott was beginning the history of Champfort and the doors again; but + Miss Portman stopped her by saying, “All this is past now. How much is due + to you, Mrs. Marriott? Lady Delacour has commissioned me to pay you every + thing that is due to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Due to me! Lord bless me, ma’am, am I to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, it was your own desire—it is consequently your lady’s: + she is perfectly sensible of your attachment to her, and of your services, + but she cannot suffer herself to be treated with disrespect. Here are + fifty guineas, which she gives you as a reward for your past fidelity, not + as a bribe to secure your future secresy. You are at liberty, she desires + me to say, to tell her secret to the whole world, if you choose to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Portman, take my macaw—do what you will with it—only + make my peace with my lady,” cried Marriott, clasping her hands, in an + agony of grief: “here are the fifty guineas, ma’am, don’t leave them with + me—I will never be disrespectful again—take my macaw and all! + No, I will carry it myself to my lady.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour was surprised by the sudden entrance of Marriott, and her + macaw. The chain which held the bird Marriott put into her ladyship’s hand + without being able to say any thing more than, “Do what you please, my + lady, with it—and with me.” + </p> + <p> + Pacified by this submission, Lady Delacour granted Marriott’s pardon, and + she most sincerely rejoiced at this reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + The next day Belinda asked the dowager Lady Boucher, who was going to a + bird-fancier’s, to take her with her, in hopes that she might be able to + meet with some bird more musical than a macaw, to console Marriott for the + loss of her screaming favourite. Lady Delacour commissioned Miss Portman + to go to any price she pleased. “If I were able, I would accompany you + myself, my dear, for poor Marriott’s sake, though I would almost as soon + go to the Augean stable.” + </p> + <p> + There was a bird-fancier in High Holborn, who had bought several of the + hundred and eighty beautiful birds, which, as the newspapers of the day + advertised, had been “collected, after great labour and expense, by Mons. + Marten and Co. for the Republican Museum at Paris, and lately landed out + of the French brig Urselle, taken on her voyage from Cayenne to Brest, by + His Majesty’s Ship Unicorn.” + </p> + <p> + When Lady Boucher and Belinda arrived at this bird-fancier’s, they were + long in doubt to which of the feathered beauties they should give the + preference. Whilst the dowager was descanting upon their various + perfections, a lady and three children came in; she immediately attracted + Belinda’s attention, by her likeness to Clarence Hervey’s description of + Lady Anne Percival—it was Lady Anne, as Lady Boucher, who was + slightly acquainted with her, informed Belinda in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + The children were soon eagerly engaged looking at the birds. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman,” said Lady Boucher, “as Lady Delacour is so far from well, + and wishes to have a bird that will not make any noise in the house, + suppose you were to buy for Mrs. Marriott this beautiful pair of green + parroquets; or, stay, a goldfinch is not very noisy, and here is one that + can play a thousand pretty tricks. Pray, sir, make it draw up water in its + little bucket for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma!” said one of the little boys, “this is the very thing that is + mentioned in Bewick’s History of Birds. Pray look at this goldfinch, + Helena, now it is drawing up its little bucket—but where is Helena? + here’s room for you, Helena.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst the little boys were looking at the goldfinch, Belinda felt + somebody touch her gently: it was Helena Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Can I speak a few words to you?” said Helena. + </p> + <p> + Belinda walked to the farthest end of the shop with her. + </p> + <p> + “Is my mamma better?” said she, in a timid tone. “I have some gold fish, + which you know cannot make the least noise: may I send them to her? I + heard that lady call you Miss Portman: I believe you are the lady who + wrote such a kind postscript to me in mamma’s last letter—that is + the reason I speak so freely to you now. Perhaps you would write to tell + me if mamma will see me; and Lady Anne Percival would take me at any time, + I am sure—but she goes to Oakly-park in a few days. I wish I might + be with mamma whilst she is ill; I would not make the least noise. But + don’t ask her, if you think it will be troublesome—only let me send + the gold fish.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda was touched by the manner in which this affectionate little girl + spoke to her. She assured her that she would say all she wished to her + mother, and she begged Helena to send the gold fish whenever she pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Helena, “I will send them as soon as I go <i>home</i> as soon + as I go back to Lady Anne Percival’s, I mean.” Belinda, when she had + finished speaking to Helena, heard the man who was showing the birds, + lament that he had not a blue macaw, which Lady Anne Percival was + commissioned to procure for Mrs. Margaret Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Red macaws, my lady, I have in abundance; but unfortunately, a blue macaw + I really have not at present; nor have I been able to get one, though I + have inquired amongst all the bird-fanciers in town; and I went to the + auction at Haydon-square on purpose, but could not get one.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda requested Lady Boucher would tell her servants to bring in the + cage that contained Marriott’s blue macaw; and as soon as it was brought + she gave it to Helena, and begged that she would carry it to her Aunt + Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, my dear Miss Portman,” said Lady Boucher, drawing her aside, “I am + afraid you will get yourself into a scrape; for Lady Delacour is not upon + speaking terms with this Mrs. Margaret Delacour—she cannot endure + her; you know she is my Lord Delacour’s aunt.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda persisted in sending the macaw, for she was in hopes that these + terrible family quarrels might be made up, if either party would + condescend to show any disposition to oblige the other. + </p> + <p> + Lady Anne Percival understood Miss Portman’s civility as it was meant. + </p> + <p> + “This is a bird of good omen,” said she; “it augurs family peace.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would do me the favour, Lady Boucher, to introduce me to Miss + Portman,” continued Lady Anne. + </p> + <p> + “The very thing I wished!” cried Helena. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes’ conversation passed afterward upon different subjects, and + Lady Anne Percival and Belinda parted with a mutual desire to see more of + each other. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — SORTES VIRGILIANAE. + </h2> + <p> + When Belinda got home, Lady Delacour was busy in the library looking over + a collection of French plays with the <i>ci-devant</i> Count de N——; + a gentleman who possessed such singular talents for reading dramatic + compositions, that many people declared that they would rather hear him + read a play than see it performed at the theatre. Even those who were not + judges of his merit, and who had little taste for literature, crowded to + hear him, because it was the fashion. Lady Delacour engaged him for a + reading party at her house, and he was consulting with her what play would + be most amusing to his audience. “My dear Belinda! I am glad you are come + to give us your opinion,” said her ladyship; “no one has a better taste: + but first I should ask you what you have done at your bird-fancier’s; I + hope you have brought home some <i>horned cock</i><a href="#linknote-5" + name="linknoteref-5" id="linknoteref-5"><small>5</small></a>, or some <i>monstrously</i> + beautiful creature for Marriott. If it has not a voice like the macaw I + shall be satisfied; but even if it be the bird of paradise, I question + whether Marriott will like it as well as its screaming predecessor.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure she will like what is coming for her,” said Belinda, “and so + will your ladyship; but do not let me interrupt you and monsieur le + Comte.” And as she spoke, she took up a volume of plays which lay upon the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Nanine, or La Prude, which shall we have?” said Lady Delacour: “or what + do you think of L’Ecossaise?” + </p> + <p> + “The scene of L’Ecossaise is laid in London,” said Belinda; “I should + think with an English audience it would therefore be popular.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! so it will,” said Lady Delacour: “then let it be L’Ecossaise. M. le + Comte I am sure will do justice to the character of <i>Friport</i> the + Englishman, ‘qui scait donner, mais qui ne scait pas vivre.’ My dear, I + forgot to tell you that Clarence Hervey has been here: it is a pity you + did not come a little sooner, you would have heard a charming scene of the + School for Scandal read by him. M. le Comte was quite delighted; but + Clarence was in a great hurry, he would only give us one scene, he was + going to Mr. Percival’s on business. I am sure what I told you the other + day is true: but, however, he has promised to come back to dine with me—M. + le Comte, you will dine with us, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + The count was extremely sorry that it was impossible—he was engaged. + Belinda suddenly recollected that it was time to dress for dinner; but + just as the count took his leave, and as she was going up stairs, a + footman met her, and told her that Mr. Hervey was in the drawing-room, and + wished to speak to her. Many conjectures were formed in Belinda’s mind as + she passed on to the drawing-room; but the moment that she opened the + door, she knew the nature of Mr. Hervey’s business, for she saw the glass + globe containing Helena Delacour’s gold fishes standing on the table + beside him. “I have been commissioned to present these to you for Lady + Delacour,” said Mr. Hervey, “and I have seldom received a commission that + has given me so much pleasure. I perceive that Miss Portman is indeed a + real friend to Lady Delacour—how happy she is to have such a + friend!” + </p> + <p> + After a pause Mr. Hervey went on speaking of Lady Delacour, and of his + earnest desire to see her as happy in domestic life as she <i>appeared</i> + to be in public. He frankly confessed, that when he was first acquainted + with her ladyship, he had looked upon her merely as a dissipated woman of + fashion, and he had considered only his own amusement in cultivating her + society: “But,” continued he, “of late I have formed a different opinion + of her character; and I think, from what I have observed, that Miss + Portman’s ideas on this subject agree with mine. I had laid a plan for + making her ladyship acquainted with Lady Anne Percival, who appears to me + one of the most amiable and one of the happiest of women. Oakly-park is + but a few miles from Harrowgate.—But I am disappointed in this + scheme; Lady Delacour has changed her mind, she says, and will not go + there. Lady Anne, however, has just told me, that, though it is July, and + though she loves the country, she will most willingly stay in town a month + longer, as she thinks that, with your assistance, there is some + probability of her effecting a reconciliation between Lady Delacour and + her husband’s relations, with some of whom Lady Anne is intimately + acquainted. To begin with my friend, Mrs. Margaret Delacour: the macaw was + most graciously received, and I flatter myself that I have prepared Mrs. + Delacour to think somewhat more favourably of her niece than she was wont + to do. All now depends upon Lady Delacour’s conduct towards her daughter: + if she continues to treat her with neglect, I shall be convinced that I + have been mistaken in her character.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda was much pleased by the openness and the unaffected good-nature + with which Clarence Hervey spoke, and she certainly was not sorry to hear + from his own lips a distinct explanation of his views and sentiments. She + assured him that no effort that she could make with propriety should be + wanting to effect the desirable reconciliation between her ladyship and + her family, as she perfectly agreed with him in thinking that Lady + Delacour’s character had been generally misunderstood by the world. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Hervey, “her connexion with that Mrs. Freke hurt her more + in the eyes of the world than she was aware of. It is tacitly understood + by the public, that every lady goes bail for the character of her female + friends. If Lady Delacour had been so fortunate as to meet with such a + friend as Miss Portman in her early life, what a different woman she would + have been! She once said some such thing to me herself, and she never + appeared to me so amiable as at that moment.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey pronounced these last words in a manner more than usually + animated; and whilst he spoke, Belinda stooped to gather a sprig from a + myrtle, which stood on the hearth. She perceived that the myrtle, which + was planted in a large china vase, was propped up on one side with the + broken bits of Sir Philip Baddely’s little stick: she took them up, and + threw them out of the window. “Lady Delacour stuck those fragments there + this morning,” said Clarence smiling, “as trophies. She told me of Miss + Portman’s victory over the heart of Sir Philip Baddely; and Miss Portman + should certainly have allowed them to remain there, as indisputable + evidence in favour of the baronet’s taste and judgment.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey appeared under some embarrassment, and seemed to be + restrained by some secret cause from laying open his real feelings: his + manner varied continually. Belinda could not avoid seeing his perplexity—she + had recourse again to the gold fishes and to Helena: upon these subjects + they could both speak very fluently. Lady Delacour made her appearance by + the time that Clarence had finished repeating the Abbé Nollet’s + experiments, which he had heard from his friend Doctor X——. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Miss Portman, the transmission of sound in water,” said Clarence—— + </p> + <p> + “Deep in philosophy, I protest!” said Lady Delacour, as she came in. “What + is this about the transmission of sound in water?—Ha! whence come + these pretty gold fishes?” + </p> + <p> + “These gold fishes,” said Belinda, “are come to console Marriott for the + loss of her macaw.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear Belinda, for these mute comforters,” said her + ladyship; “the very best things you could have chosen.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the merit of the choice,” said Belinda, “but I am heartily + glad that you approve of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty creatures,” said Lady Delacour: “no fish were ever so pretty since + the days of the prince of the Black Islands in the Arabian Tales. And am I + obliged to you, Clarence, for these subjects?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I have only had the honour of bringing them to your ladyship from——” + </p> + <p> + “From whom?—Amongst all my numerous acquaintance, have I one in the + world who cares a gold fish about me?—Stay, don’t tell me, let me + guess——Lady Newland?—No; you shake your heads. I guessed + her ladyship, merely because I know she wants to bribe me some way or + other to go to one of her stupid entertainments; she wants to pick out of + me taste enough to spend a fortune. But you say it was not Lady Newland?—Mrs. + Hunt then perhaps? for she has two daughters whom she wants me to ask to + my concerts. It was not Mrs. Hunt?—Well, then, it was Mrs. + Masterson; for she has a mind to go with me to Harrowgate, where, + by-the-bye, I shall not go; so I won’t cheat her out of her gold fishes; + it was Mrs. Masterson, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But these little gold fishes came from a person who would be very + glad to go with you to Harrowgate!” said Clarence Hervey. “Or who would be + very glad to stay with you in town,” said Belinda: “from a person who + wants nothing from you but—your love.” + </p> + <p> + “Male or female?” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Female.” + </p> + <p> + “Female? I have not a female friend in the world but yourself, my dear + Belinda; nor do I know another female in the world, whose love I should + think about for half an instant. But pray tell me the name of this unknown + friend of mine, who wants nothing from me but love.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said Belinda; “I cannot tell her name, unless you will + promise to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “You have really made me impatient to see her,” said Lady Delacour: “but I + am not able to go out, you know, yet; and with a new acquaintance, one + must go through the ceremony of a morning visit. Now, <i>en conscience</i>, + is it worth while?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well worth while,” cried Belinda and Clarence Hervey, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, pardi! as M. le Comte exclaims continually, Ah, pardi! You are both + wonderfully interested in this business. It is some sister, niece, or + cousin of Lady Anne Percival’s; or—no, Belinda looks as if I were + wrong. Then, perhaps, it is Lady Anne herself?—Well, take me where + you please, my dear Belinda, and introduce me where you please: I depend + on your taste and judgment in all things; but I really am not yet able to + pay morning visits.” + </p> + <p> + “The ceremony of a morning visit is quite unnecessary here,” said Belinda: + “I will introduce the unknown friend to you to-morrow, if you will let me + invite her to your reading-party.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure. She is some charming émigrée of Clarence Hervey’s + acquaintance. But where did you meet with her this morning? You have both + of you conspired to puzzle me. Take it upon yourselves, then, if this new + acquaintance should not, as Ninon de l’Enclos used to say, <i>quit cost</i>. + If she be half as agreeable and <i>graceful</i>, Clarence, as Madame la + Comtesse de Pomenars, I should not think her acquaintance too dearly + purchased by a dozen morning visits.” + </p> + <p> + Here the conversation was interrupted by a thundering knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Whose carriage is it?” said Lady Delacour. “Oh! Lady Newland’s + ostentatious livery; and here is her ladyship getting out of her carriage + as awkwardly as if she had never been in one before. Overdressed, like a + true city dame! Pray, Clarence, look at her, entangled in her bale of gold + muslin, and conscious of her bulse of diamonds!—‘Worth, if I’m worth + a farthing, five hundred thousand pounds bank currency!’ she says or seems + to say, whenever she comes into a room. Now let us see her entrée—” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear,” cried Lady Delacour, starting at the sight of Belinda, who + was still in her morning dress, “absolutely below par!—Make your + escape to Marriott, I conjure you, by all your fears of the contempt of a + lady, who will at the first look estimate you, <i>au juste</i>, to a + farthing a yard.” + </p> + <p> + As she left the room, Belinda heard Clarence Hervey repeat to Lady + Delacour— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Give me a look, give me a face, + That makes simplicity a grace; + Robes loosely flowing, hair as free—” + </pre> + <p> + he paused—but Belinda recollected the remainder of the stanza— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Such sweet neglect more taketh me + Than all th’adulteries of art, + That strike mine eyes, but not mine heart.” + </pre> + <p> + It was observed, that Miss Portman dressed herself this day with the most + perfect simplicity. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour’s curiosity was raised by the description which Belinda and + Clarence Hervey had given of the new acquaintance who sent her the gold + fishes, and who wanted nothing from her but her love. + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman told her that the <i>unknown</i> would probably come half an + hour earlier to the reading-party than any of the rest of the company. Her + ladyship was alone in the library, when Lady Anne Percival brought Helena, + in consequence of a note from Belinda. + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman ran down stairs to the hall to receive her: the little girl + took her hand in silence. “Your mother was much pleased with the pretty + gold fishes,” said Belinda, “and she will be still more pleased, when she + knows that they came from you:—she does not know <i>that</i> yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope she is better to-day? I will not make the least noise,” whispered + Helena, as she went up stairs on tiptoe. + </p> + <p> + “You need not be afraid to make a noise—you need not walk on tiptoe, + nor shut the doors softly; for Lady Delacour seems to like all noises + except the screaming of the macaw. This way, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot—it is so long since!—Is mamma up and dressed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She has had concerts and balls since her illness. You will hear a + play read to-night,” said Belinda, “by that French gentleman whom Lady + Anne Percival mentioned to me yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is a great deal of company, then, with mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody is with her now: so come into the library with me,” said Belinda. + “Lady Delacour, here is the young lady who sent you the gold fishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Helena!” cried Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “You must, I am sure, acknowledge that Mr. Hervey was in the right, when + he said that the lady was a striking resemblance of your ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hervey knows how to flatter. I never had that ingenuous countenance, + even in my best days: but certainly the hair of her head is like mine—and + her hands and arms. But why do you tremble, Helena? Is there any thing so + very terrible in the looks of your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, only———” + </p> + <p> + “Only what, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Only—I was afraid—you might not like me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who has filled your little foolish head with these vain fears? Come, + simpleton, kiss me, and tell me how comes it that you are not at + Oakly-hall, or—What’s the name of the place?—Oakly-park?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Anne Percival would not take me out of town, she said, whilst you + were ill; because she thought that you might wish—I mean she thought + that I should like to see you—if you pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Anne is very good—very obliging—very considerate.” + </p> + <p> + “She is <i>very</i> good-natured,” said Helena. + </p> + <p> + “You love this Lady Anne Percival, I perceive.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, that I do. She has been so kind to me! I love her as if she were——” + </p> + <p> + “As if she <i>were</i>—What? finish your sentence.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” said Helena, in a low voice, and she blushed. + </p> + <p> + “You love her as well as if she were your mother,” repeated Lady Delacour: + “that is intelligible: speak intelligibly whatever you say, and never + leave a sentence unfinished.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can be more ill-bred, nor more absurd; for it shows that you have + the wish without the power to conceal your sentiments. Pray, my dear,” + continued Lady Delacour, “go to Oakly-park immediately—all farther + ceremony towards me may be spared.” + </p> + <p> + “Ceremony, mamma!” said the little girl, and the tears came into her eyes. + Belinda sighed; and for some moments there was a dead silence. + </p> + <p> + “I mean only to say, Miss Portman,” resumed Lady Delacour, “that I hate + ceremony: but I know that there are people in the world who love it, who + think all virtue, and all affection, depend on ceremony—who are + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Content to dwell in <i>decencies</i> for ever.’ +</pre> + <p> + I shall not dispute their merits. Verily, they have their reward in the + good opinion and good word of all little minds, that is to say, of above + half the world. I envy them not their hard-earned fame. Let ceremony + curtsy to ceremony with Chinese decorum; but, when ceremony expects to be + paid with affection, I beg to be excused.” + </p> + <p> + “Ceremony sets no value upon affection, and therefore would not desire to + be paid with it,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Never yet,” continued lady Delacour, pursuing the train of her own + thoughts without attending to Belinda, “never yet was any thing like real + affection won by any of these ceremonious people.” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” said Miss Portman, looking at Helena; who, having quickness + enough to perceive that her mother aimed this <i>tirade</i> against + ceremony at Lady Anne Percival, sat in the most painful embarrassment, her + eyes cast down, and her face and neck colouring all over. “Never yet,” + said Miss Portman, “did mere ceremonious person win any thing like real + affection; especially from children, who are often excellent, because + unprejudiced, judges of character.” + </p> + <p> + “We are all apt to think, that an opinion that differs from our own is a + prejudice,” said Lady Delacour: “what is to decide?” + </p> + <p> + “Facts, I should think,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “But it is so difficult to get at facts, even about the merest trifles,” + said Lady Delacour. “Actions we see, but their causes we seldom see—an + aphorism worthy of Confucius himself: now to apply. Pray, my dear Helena, + how came you by the pretty gold fishes that you were so good as to send to + me yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Anne Percival gave them to me, ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + “And how came her ladyship to give them to you, ma’am?” + </p> + <p> + “She gave them to me,” said Helena, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “You need not blush, nor repeat to me that she gave them to you; that I + have heard already—that is the fact: now for the cause—unless + it be a secret. If it be a secret which you have been desired to keep, you + are quite right to keep it. I make no doubt of its being necessary, + according to some systems of education, that children should be taught to + keep secrets; and I am convinced (for Lady Anne Percival is, I have heard, + a perfect judge of propriety) that it is peculiarly proper that a daughter + should know how to keep secrets from her mother: therefore, my dear, you + need not trouble yourself to blush or hesitate any more—I shall ask + no farther questions: I was not aware that there was any secret in the + case.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no secret in the world in the case, mamma,” said Helena; “I only + hesitated because—” + </p> + <p> + “You hesitated <i>only</i> because, I suppose you mean. I presume Lady + Anne Percival will have no objection to your speaking good English?” + </p> + <p> + “I hesitated only because I was afraid it would not be right to praise + myself. Lady Anne Percival one day asked us all—” + </p> + <p> + “Us all?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean Charles, and Edward, and me, to give her an account of some + experiments, on the hearing of fishes, which Dr. X—— had told + to us: she promised to give the gold fishes, of which we were all very + fond, to whichever of us should give the best account of them—Lady + Anne gave the fishes to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And is this all the secret? So it was real modesty made her hesitate, + Belinda? I beg your pardon, my dear, and Lady Anne’s: you see how candid I + am, Belinda. But one question more, Helena: Who put it into your head to + send me your gold fishes?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody, mamma; no one put it into my head. But I was at the + bird-fancier’s yesterday, when Miss Portman was trying to get some bird + for Mrs. Marriott, that could not make any noise to disturb you; so I + thought my fishes would be the nicest things for you in the world; because + they cannot make the least noise, and they are as pretty as any birds in + the world—prettier, I think—and I hope Mrs. Marriott thinks so + too.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what Marriott thinks about the matter, but I can tell you + what I think,” said Lady Delacour, “that you are one of the sweetest + little girls in the world, and that you would make me love you if I had a + heart of stone, which I have not, whatever some people may think.—Kiss + me, my child!” + </p> + <p> + The little girl sprang forwards, and threw her arms round her mother, + exclaiming, “Oh, mamma, are you in earnest?” and she pressed close to her + mother’s bosom, clasping her with all her force. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour screamed, and pushed her daughter away. + </p> + <p> + “She is not angry with you, my love,” said Belinda, “she is in sudden and + violent pain—don’t be alarmed—she will be better soon. No, + don’t ring the bell, but try whether you can open these window-shutters, + and throw up the sash.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Belinda was supporting Lady Delacour, and whilst Helena was trying + to open the window, a servant came into the room to announce the Count de + N——. + </p> + <p> + “Show him into the drawing-room,” said Belinda. Lady Delacour, though in + great pain, rose and retired to her dressing-room. “I shall not be able to + go down to these people yet,” said she; “you must make my excuses to the + count and to every body; and tell poor Helena I was not angry, though I + pushed her away. Keep her below stairs: I will come as soon as I am able. + Send Marriott. Do not forget, my dear, to tell Helena I was not angry.” + </p> + <p> + The reading party went on, and Lady Delacour made her appearance as the + company were drinking orgeat, between the fourth and fifth act. “Helena, + <i>my dear</i>,” said she, “will you bring me a glass of orgeat?” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey looked at Belinda with a congratulatory smile: “do not you + think,” whispered he, “that we shall succeed? Did you see that look of + Lady Delacour’s?” + </p> + <p> + Nothing tends more to increase the esteem and affection of two people for + each other than their having one and the same benevolent object. Clarence + Hervey and Belinda seemed to know one another’s thoughts and feelings this + evening better than they had ever done before during the whole course of + their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + After the play was over, most of the company went away; only a select + party of <i>beaux esprits</i> stayed to supper; they were standing at the + table at which the count had been reading: several volumes of French plays + and novels were lying there, and Clarence Hervey, taking up one of them, + cried, “Come, let us try our fate by the Sortes Virgilianae.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour opened the book, which was a volume of Marmontel’s Tales. + </p> + <p> + “La femme comme il y en a peu!” exclaimed Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “Who will ever more have faith in the Sortes Virgilianae?” said Lady + Delacour, laughing; but whilst she laughed she went closer to a candle, to + read the page which she had opened. Belinda and Clarence Hervey followed + her. “Really, it is somewhat singular, Belinda, that I should have opened + upon this passage,” continued she, in a low voice, pointing it out to Miss + Portman. + </p> + <p> + It was a description of the manner in which la femme comme il y en a peu + managed a husband, who was excessively afraid of being thought to be + governed by his wife. As her ladyship turned over the page, she saw a leaf + of myrtle which Belinda, who had been reading the story the preceding day, + had put into the book for a mark. + </p> + <p> + “Whose mark is this? Yours, Belinda, I am sure, by its elegance,” said + Lady Delacour. “So! this is a concerted plan between you two, I see,” + continued her ladyship, with an air of pique: “you have contrived prettily + de me dire des vérités! One says, ‘Let us try our fate by the Sortes + Virgilianae;’ the other has dexterously put a mark in the book, to make it + open upon a lesson for the naughty child.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda and Mr. Hervey assured her that they had used no such mean arts, + that nothing had been concerted between them. + </p> + <p> + “How came this leaf of myrtle here, then?” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “I was reading that story yesterday, and left it as my mark.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help believing you, because you never yet deceived me, even in + the merest trifle: you are truth itself, Belinda. Well, you see that <i>you</i> + were the cause of my drawing such an extraordinary lot; the book would not + have opened here but for your mark. My fate, I find, is in your hands: if + Lady Delacour is ever to be la femme comme il y en a peu, which is the + most <i>improbable</i> thing in the world, Miss Portman will be the cause + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is the most probable thing in the world,” said Clarence Hervey. + “This myrtle has a delightful perfume,” added he, rubbing the leaf between + his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “But, after all,” said Lady Delacour, throwing aside the book, “This + heroine of Marmontel’s is not la femme comme il y en a peu, but la femme + comme il n’y en a <i>point</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Margaret Delacour’s carriage, my lady, for Miss Delacour,” said a + footman to her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “Helena stays with me to-night—my compliments,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “How pleased the little gipsy looks!” added she, turning to Helena, who + heard the message; “and how handsome she looks when she is pleased!—Do + these auburn locks of yours, Helena, curl naturally or artificially?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally! so much the better: so did mine at your age.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the company now took notice of the astonishing resemblance between + Helena and her mother; and the more Lady Delacour considered her daughter + as a part of herself, the more she was inclined to be pleased with her. + The glass globe containing the gold fishes was put in the middle of the + table at supper; and Clarence Hervey never paid her ladyship such + respectful attention in his life as he did this evening. + </p> + <p> + The conversation at supper turned upon a magnificent and elegant + entertainment which had lately been given by a fashionable duchess, and + some of the company spoke in high terms of the beauty and accomplishments + of her grace’s daughter, who had for the first time appeared in public on + that occasion. + </p> + <p> + “The daughter will eclipse, totally eclipse, the mother,” said Lady + Delacour. “That total eclipse has been foretold by many knowing people,” + said Clarence Hervey; “but how can there be an eclipse between two bodies + which never cross one another and that I understand to be the case between + the duchess and her daughter.” + </p> + <p> + This observation seemed to make a great impression upon Lady Delacour. + Clarence Hervey went on, and with much eloquence expressed his admiration + of the mother who had stopped short in the career of dissipation to employ + her inimitable talents in the education of her children; who had + absolutely brought Virtue into fashion by the irresistible powers of wit + and beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Clarence,” said Lady Delacour, rising from table, “vous parlez + avec beaucoup d’onction. I advise you to write a sentimental comedy, a + comédie larmoyante, or a drama on the German model, and call it The School + for Mothers, and beg her grace of —— to sit for your heroine.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship, surely, would not be so cruel as to send a faithful + servant a begging for a heroine?” said Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour smiled at first at the compliment, but a few minutes + afterwards she sighed bitterly. “It is too late for me to think of being a + heroine,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Too late?” cried Hervey, following her eagerly as she walked out of the + supper-room; “too late? Her grace of —— is <i>some</i> years + older than your ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did not mean to say <i>too late</i>,” said Lady Delacour; “but + let us go on to something else. Why were you not at the fète champêtre the + other day? and where were you all this morning? And pray can you tell me + when your friend doctor X—— returns to town?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Horton is getting better,” said Clarence, “and I hope that we shall + have Dr. X—— soon amongst us again. I hear that he is to be in + town in the course of a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he inquire for me?—Did he ask how I did?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I fancy he took it for granted that your ladyship was quite well; for + I told him you were getting better every day, and that you were in + charming spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lady Delacour, “but I wear myself out with these charming + spirits. I am very nervous still, I assure you, and sitting up late is not + good for me: so I shall wish you and all the world a good night. You see I + am absolutely a reformed rake.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — THE EXHIBITION. + </h2> + <p> + Two hours after her ladyship had retired to her room, as Belinda was + passing by the door to go to her own bedchamber, she heard Lady Delacour + call to her. + </p> + <p> + “Belinda, you need not walk so softly; I am not asleep. Come in, will you, + my dear? I have something of consequence to say to you. Is all the world + gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I thought that you were asleep. I hope you are not in pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Not just at present, thank you; but that was a terrible embrace of poor + little Helena’s. You see to what accidents I should be continually + exposed, if I had that child always about me; and yet she seems of such an + affectionate disposition, that I wish it were possible to keep her at + home. Sit down by my bedside, my dear Belinda, and I will tell you what I + have resolved upon.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda sat down, and Lady Delacour was silent for some minutes. + </p> + <p> + “I am resolved,” said she, “to make one desperate effort for my life. New + plans, new hopes of happiness, have opened to my imagination, and, with my + hopes of being happy, my courage rises. I am determined to submit to the + dreadful operation which alone can radically cure me—you understand + me; but it must be kept a profound secret. I know of a person who could be + got to perform this operation with the utmost secrecy.” + </p> + <p> + “But, surely,” said Belinda, “safety must be your first object!” + </p> + <p> + “No, secrecy is my first object. Nay, do not reason with me; it is a + subject on which I cannot, will not, reason. Hear me—I will keep + Helena with me for a few days; she was surprised by what passed in the + library this evening—I must remove all suspicion from her mind.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no suspicion in her mind,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better: she shall go immediately to school, or to Oakly-park. + I will then stand my trial for life or death; and if I live I will be, + what I have never yet been, a mother to Helena. If I die, you and Clarence + Hervey will take care of her; I know you will. That young man is worthy of + you, Belinda. If I die, I charge you to tell him that I knew his value; + that I had a soul capable of being touched by the eloquence of virtue.” + Lady Delacour, after a pause, said, in an altered tone, “Do you think, + Belinda, that I shall survive this operation?” + </p> + <p> + “The opinion of Dr. X——,” said Belinda, “must certainly be + more satisfactory than mine;” and she repeated what the doctor had left + with her in writing upon this subject. “You see,” said Belinda, “that Dr. + X——is by no means certain that you have the complaint which + you dread.” + </p> + <p> + “I am certain of it,” said Lady Delacour, with a deep sigh. Then, after a + pause, she resumed: “So it is the doctor’s opinion, that I shall + inevitably destroy myself if, from a vain hope of secrecy, I put myself + into ignorant hands? These are his own words, are they? Very strong; and + he is prudent to leave that opinion in writing. Now, whatever happens, he + cannot be answerable for ‘measures which he does not guide:’ nor you + either, my dear; you have done all that is prudent and proper. But I must + beg you to recollect, that I am neither a child nor a fool; that I am come + to years of discretion, and that I am not now in the delirium of a fever; + consequently, there can be no pretence for <i>managing</i> me. In this + particular I must insist upon managing myself. I have confidence in the + skill of the person whom I shall employ: Dr. X——, very likely, + would have none, because the man may not have a diploma for killing or + curing in form. That is nothing to the purpose. It is I that am to undergo + the operation: it is <i>my</i> health, <i>my</i> life, that is risked; and + if I am satisfied, that is enough. Secrecy, as I told you before, is my + first object.” + </p> + <p> + “And cannot you,” said Belinda, “depend with more security upon the honour + of a surgeon who is at the head of his profession, and who has a high + reputation at stake, than upon a vague promise of secrecy from some + obscure quack, who has no reputation to lose?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lady Delacour: “I tell you, my dear, that I cannot depend upon + any of these ‘honourable men.’ I have taken means to satisfy myself on + this point: their honour and foolish delicacy would not allow them to + perform such an operation for a wife, without the knowledge, privity, + consent, &c. &c. &c. of her husband. Now Lord Delacour’s + knowing the thing is quite out of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear Lady Delacour, why?” said Belinda, with great earnestness. + “Surely a husband has the strongest claim to be consulted upon such an + occasion! Let me entreat you to tell Lord Delacour your intention, and + then all will be right. Say Yes, my dear friend! let me prevail upon you,” + said Belinda, taking her ladyship’s hand, and pressing it between both of + hers with the most affectionate eagerness. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour made no answer, but fixed her eyes upon Belinda’s. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Delacour,” continued Miss Portman, “deserves this from you, by the + great interest, the increasing interest, that he has shown of late about + your health: his kindness and handsome conduct the other morning certainly + pleased you, and you have now an opportunity of showing that confidence in + him, which his affection and constant attachment to you merit.” + </p> + <p> + “I trouble myself very little about the constancy of Lord Delacour’s + attachment to me,” said her ladyship coolly, withdrawing her hand from + Belinda; “whether his lordship’s affection for me has of late increased or + diminished, is an object of perfect indifference to me. But if I were + inclined to reward him for his late attentions, I should apprehend that we + might hit upon some better reward than you have pitched upon. Unless you + imagine that Lord Delacour has a peculiar taste for surgical operations, I + cannot conceive how his becoming my confidant upon this occasion could + have an immediate tendency to increase his affection for me—about + which affection I don’t care a straw, as you, better than any one else, + must know; for I am no hypocrite. I have laid open my whole heart to you, + Belinda.” + </p> + <p> + “For that very reason,” said Miss Portman, “I am eager to use the + influence which I know I have in your heart for your happiness. I am + convinced that it will be absolutely impossible that you should carry on + this scheme in the house with your husband without its being discovered. + If he discover it by accident, he will feel very differently from what he + would do if he were trusted by you.” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven’s sake, my dear,” cried Lady Delacour, “let me hear no more + about Lord Delacour’s feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “But allow me then to speak of my own,” said Belinda: “I cannot be + concerned in this affair, if it is to be concealed from your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do about that as you think proper,” said Lady Delacour + haughtily. “Your sense of propriety towards Lord Delacour is, I observe, + stronger than your sense of honour towards me. But I make no doubt that + you act upon principle—just principle. You promised never to abandon + me; but when I most want your assistance, you refuse it, from + consideration for Lord Delacour. A scruple of delicacy absolves a person + of nice feelings, I find, from a positive promise—a new and + convenient code of morality!” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, though much hurt by the sarcastic tone in which her ladyship + spoke, mildly answered, that the promise she had made to stay with her + ladyship during her illness was very different from an engagement to + assist her in such a scheme as she had now in contemplation. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour suddenly drew the curtain between her and Belinda, saying, + “Well, my dear, at all events, I am glad to hear you don’t forget your + promise of <i>staying</i> with me. You are, perhaps, prudent to refuse me + your assistance, all circumstances considered. Good night: I have kept you + up too long—good night!” + </p> + <p> + “Good night!” said Belinda, drawing aside the curtain, “You will not be + displeased with me, when you reflect coolly.” + </p> + <p> + “The light blinds me,” said Lady Delacour; and she turned her face away + from Miss Portman, and added, in a drowsy voice, “I will <i>think of what + has been said</i> some time or other: but just now I would rather go to + sleep than say or hear any more; for I am more than half asleep already.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda closed the curtains and left the room. But Lady Delacour, + notwithstanding the drowsy tone in which she pronounced these last words, + was not in the least inclined to sleep. A passion had taken possession of + her mind, which kept her broad awake the remainder of the night—the + passion of jealousy. The extreme eagerness with which Belinda had urged + her to consult Lord Delacour, and to trust him with her secret, displeased + her; not merely as an opposition to her will, and undue attention to his + lordship’s feelings, but as “confirmation strong” of a hint which had been + dropped by Sir Philip Baddely, but which never till now had appeared to + her worthy of a moment’s consideration. Sir Philip had observed, that, “if + a young lady had any hopes of being a viscountess, it was no wonder she + thought a baronet beneath her notice.” “Now,” thought Lady Delacour, “this + is not impossible. In the first place, Belinda Portman is niece to Mrs. + Stanhope; she may have all her aunt’s art, and the still greater art to + conceal it under the mask of openness and simplicity: <i>Volto sciolto, + pensieri stretti</i>, is the grand maxim of the Stanhope school.” The + moment Lady Delacour’s mind turned to suspicion, her ingenuity rapidly + supplied her with circumstances and arguments to confirm and justify her + doubts. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman fears that my husband is growing too fond of me: she says, + he has been very attentive to me of late. Yes, so he has; and on purpose + to disgust him with me, she immediately urges me to tell him that I have a + loathsome disease, and that I am about to undergo a horrid operation. How + my eyes have been blinded by her artifice! This last stroke was rather too + bold, and has opened them effectually, and now I see a thousand things + that escaped me before. Even to-night, the Sortes Virgilianae, the myrtle + leaf, Miss Portman’s mark, left in the book exactly at the place where + Marmontel gives a receipt for managing a husband of Lord Delacour’s + character. Ah, ah! By her own confession, she had been reading this: + studying it. Yes, and she has studied it to some purpose; she has made + that poor weak lord of mine think her an angel. How he ran on in her + praise the other day, when he honoured me with a morning visit! That + morning visit, too, was of her suggestion; and the bank-notes, as he, like + a simpleton, let out in the course of the conversation, had been offered + to her first. She, with a delicacy that charmed my short-sighted folly, + begged that they might go through my hands. How artfully managed! Mrs. + Stanhope herself could not have done better. So, she can make Lord + Delacour do whatever she pleases; and she condescends to make him behave + <i>prettily</i> to me, and desires him to bring me peace-offerings of + bank-notes! She is, in fact, become my banker; mistress of my house, my + husband, and myself! Ten days I have been confined to my room. Truly, she + has made a good use of her time: and I, fool that I am, have been thanking + her for all her disinterested kindness! + </p> + <p> + “Then her attention to my daughter! disinterested, too, as I thought!—But, + good Heavens, what an idiot I have been! She looks forward to be the + step-mother of Helena; she would win the simple child’s affections even + before my face, and show Lord Delacour what a charming wife and mother she + would make! He said some such thing to me, as well as I remember, the + other day. Then her extreme prudence! She never coquets, not she, with any + of the young men who come here on purpose to see her. Is this natural? + Absolutely unnatural—artifice! artifice! To contrast herself with me + in Lord Delacour’s opinion is certainly her object. Even to Clarence + Hervey, with whom she was, or pretended to be, smitten, how cold and + reserved she is grown of late; and how haughtily she rejected my advice, + when I hinted that she was not taking the way to win him! I could not + comprehend her; she had no designs on Clarence Hervey, she assured me. + Immaculate purity! I believe you. + </p> + <p> + “Then her refusal of Sir Philip Baddely!—a baronet with fifteen + thousand a year to be refused by a girl who has nothing, and merely + because he is a fool! How could I be such a fool as to believe it? Worthy + niece of Mrs. Stanhope, I know you now! And now I recollect that + extraordinary letter of Mrs. Stanhope’s which I snatched out of Miss + Portman’s hands some months ago, full of blanks, and inuendoes, and + references to some letter which Belinda had written about my disputes with + my husband! From that moment to this, Miss Portman has never let me see + another of her aunt’s letters. So I may conclude they are all in the same + style; and I make no doubt that she has instructed her niece, all this + time, how to proceed. Now I know why she always puts Mrs. Stanhope’s + letters into her pocket the moment she receives them, and never opens them + in my presence. And I have been laying open my whole heart, telling my + whole history, confessing all my faults and follies, to this girl! And I + have told her that I am dying! I have taught her to look forward with joy + and certainty to the coronet, on which she has fixed her heart. + </p> + <p> + “On my knees I conjured her to stay with me to receive my last breath. Oh, + dupe, miserable dupe, that I am! could nothing warn me? In the moment that + I discovered the treachery of one friend, I went and prostrated myself to + the artifices of another—of another a thousand times more dangerous—ten + thousand times more beloved! For what was Harriot Freke in comparison with + Belinda Portman? Harriot Freke, even whilst she diverted me most, I half + despised. But Belinda!—Oh, Belinda! how entirely have I loved—trusted—admired—adored—respected—revered + you!” + </p> + <p> + Exhausted by the emotions to which she had worked herself up by the force + of her powerful imagination, Lady Delacour, after passing several restless + hours in bed, fell asleep late in the morning; and when she awaked, + Belinda was standing by her bedside. “What could you be dreaming of?” said + Belinda, smiling. “You started, and looked at me with such horror, when + you opened your eyes, as if I had been your evil genius.” It is not in + human nature, thought Lady Delacour, suddenly overcome by the sweet smile + and friendly tone of Belinda, it is not in human nature to be so + treacherous; and she stretched out both her arms to Belinda, saying, “You + my evil genius? No. My guardian angel, my dearest Belinda, kiss me, and + forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you for what?” said Belinda; “I believe you are dreaming still, + and I am sorry to awaken you; but I am come to tell you a wonderful thing—that + Lord Delacour is up, and dressed, and actually in the breakfast-room; and + that he has been talking to me this half hour—of what do you think?—of + Helena. He was quite surprised, he said, to see her grown such a fine + girl, and he declares that he no longer regrets that she was not a boy; + and he says that he will dine at home to-day, on purpose to drink Helena’s + health in his new burgundy; and, in short, I never saw him in such good + spirits, or so agreeable: I always thought he was one of the best-natured + men I had ever seen. Will not you get up to breakfast? Lord Delacour has + asked for you ten times within these five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Lady Delacour, rubbing her eyes. “All this is vastly + wonderful; but I wish you had not awakened me so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay,” said Belinda, “I know by the tone of your voice, that you do + not mean what you say; I know you will get up, and come down to us + directly—so I will send Marriott.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour got up, and went down to breakfast, in much uncertainty what + to think of Miss Portman; but ashamed to let her into her mind, and still + more afraid that Lord Delacour should suspect her of doing him the honour + to be jealous, Belinda had not the least guess of what was really passing + in her ladyship’s heart; she implicitly believed her expressions of + complete indifference to her lord; and jealousy was the last feeling which + Miss Portman would have attributed to Lady Delacour, because she + unfortunately was not sufficiently aware that jealousy can exist without + love. The idea of Lord Delacour as an object of attachment, or of a + coronet as an object of ambition, or of her friend’s death as an object of + joy, were so foreign to Belinda’s innocent mind, that it was scarcely + possible she could decipher Lady Delacour’s thoughts. Her ladyship + affected to be in “remarkable good spirits this morning,” declared that + she had never felt so well since her illness, ordered her carriage as soon + as breakfast was over, and said she would take Helena to Maillardet’s, to + see the wonders of his little conjuror and his singing-bird. “Nothing + equal to Maillardet’s singing-bird has ever been seen or heard of, my dear + Helena, since the days of Aboulcasem’s peacock in the Persian Tales. Since + Lady Anne Percival has not shown you these charming things, I must.” + </p> + <p> + “But I hope you won’t tire yourself, mamma,” said the little girl. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid you will,” said Belinda. “And you know, my dear,” added Lord + Delacour, “that Miss Portman, who is so very obliging and good-natured, <i>could</i> + go just as well with Helena; and I am sure, <i>would</i>, rather than that + you should tire yourself, or give yourself an unnecessary trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman is very good,” answered Lady Delacour, hastily; “but I think + it no unnecessary trouble to give my daughter any pleasure in my power. As + to its tiring me, I am neither dead, nor dying, <i>yet</i>; for the rest, + Miss Portman, who understands what is proper, blushes for you, as you see, + my lord, when you propose that she, who is not <i>yet</i> a married woman, + should <i>chaperon</i> a young lady. It is quite out of rule; and Mrs. + Stanhope would be shocked if her niece could, or would, do such a thing to + oblige any body.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour was too much in the habit of hearing sarcastic, and to him + incomprehensible speeches from her ladyship, to take any extraordinary + notice of this; and if Belinda blushed, it was merely from the confusion + into which she was thrown by the piercing glance of Lady Delacour’s black + eyes—a glance which neither guilt nor innocence could withstand. + Belinda imagined that her ladyship still retained some displeasure from + the conversation that had passed the preceding night, and the first time + that she was alone with Lady Delacour, she again touched upon the subject, + in hopes of softening or convincing her. “At all events, my dear friend,” + said she, “you will not, I hope, be offended by the sincerity with which I + speak—I <i>can</i> have no object but your safety and happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Sincerity never offends me,” was her ladyship’s cold answer. And all the + time that they were out together, she was unusually ceremonious to Miss + Portman; and there would have been but little conversation, if Helena had + not been present, to whom her mother talked with fluent gaiety. When they + got to Spring Gardens, Helena exclaimed, “Oh! there’s Lady Anne Percival’s + carriage, and Charles and Edward with her—they are going to the same + place that we are, I dare say, for I heard Charles ask Lady Anne to take + him to see Maillardet’s little bird—Mr. Hervey mentioned it to us, + and he said it was a curious piece of machinery.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had told me sooner that Lady Anne was likely to be there—I + don’t wish to meet her so awkwardly: I am not well enough yet, indeed, to + go to these odious, hot, close places; and, besides, I hate seeing + sights.” + </p> + <p> + Helena, with much good humour, said that she would rather give up seeing + the sight than be troublesome to her mother. When they came to + Maillardet’s, however, Lady Delacour saw Mrs. —— getting out + of her carriage, and to her she consigned Helena and Miss Portman, saying + that she would take a turn or two in the park, and call for them in half + an hour. When the half hour was over, and her ladyship returned, she + carelessly asked, as they were going home, whether they had been pleased + with their visit to the bird and the conjuror. “Oh, yes, mamma!” said + Helena: “and do you know, that one of the questions that the people ask + the conjuror is, <i>Where is the happiest family to be found?</i>” And + Charles and Edward immediately said, “if he is a good conjuror, if he + tells truth, he’ll answer, ‘At Oakly-park.’” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman, had you any conversation with Lady Anne Percival?” said + Lady Delacour, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “A great deal,” said Belinda, “and such as I am sure you would have liked: + and so far from being a ceremonious person, I think I never saw any body + who had such easy engaging manners.” + </p> + <p> + “And did she ask you, Helena, again to go with her to that place where the + happiest family in the world is to be found?” + </p> + <p> + “Oakly-park?—No, mamma; she said that she was very glad that I was + with you; but she asked Miss Portman to come to see her whenever it was in + her power.” + </p> + <p> + “And could Miss Portman withstand such a temptation?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that I am engaged to your ladyship,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour bowed. “But from what passed last night,” said she, “I was + afraid that you might repent your engagement to me: and if so, I give up + my bond. I should be miserable if I apprehended that any one, but more + especially Miss Portman, felt herself a prisoner in my house.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Delacour! I do not feel myself a prisoner; I have always till + now felt myself a friend in your house; but we’ll talk of this another + time. Do not look at me with so much coldness; do not speak to me with so + much politeness. I will not let you forget that I am your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to forget it, Belinda,” said Lady Delacour, with emotion; + “I am not ungrateful, though I may seem capricious—bear with me.” + </p> + <p> + “There now, you look like yourself again, and I am satisfied,” cried + Belinda. “As to going to Oakly-park, I give you my word I have not the + most distant thoughts of it. I stay with you from choice, and not from + compulsion, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>do</i> believe you,” said Lady Delacour; and for a moment she was + convinced that Belinda stayed with her for her own sake alone; but the + next minute she suspected that Lord Delacour was the secret cause of her + refusing to go to Oakly-park. His lordship dined at home this day, and two + or three succeeding days, and he was not intoxicated from Monday till + Thursday. These circumstances appeared to his lady very extraordinary. In + fact, he was pleased and amused with his little daughter, Helena; and + whilst she was yet almost a stranger to him, he wished to appear to her in + the most agreeable and respectable light possible. One day after dinner, + Lord Delacour, who was in a remarkably good humour, said to her ladyship, + “My dear, you know that your new carriage was broken almost to pieces the + night when you were overturned. Well, I have had it all set to rights + again, and new painted, and it is all complete, except the hammer-cloth, + which must have new fringe. What colour will you have the fringe?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, Miss Portman?” said her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “Black and orange would look well, I think,” said Belinda, “and would suit + the lace of your liveries—would not it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly: black and orange then,” said Lord Delacour, “it shall be.” + </p> + <p> + “If you ask my opinion,” said Lady Delacour, “I am for blue and white, to + match the cloth of the liveries.” + </p> + <p> + “Blue and white then it shall be,” said Lord Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Miss Portman has a better taste than I have; and she says black and + orange, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ll have it black and orange, will you?” said Lord Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Just as you please,” said Lady Delacour, and no more passed. + </p> + <p> + Soon afterward a note came from Lady Anne Percival, with some trifles + belonging to Helena, for which her mother had sent. The note was for + Belinda—another pressing invitation to Oakly-park—and a very + civil message from Mrs. Margaret Delacour, and thanks to Lady Delacour for + the macaw. Ay, thought Lady Delacour, Miss Portman wants to ingratiate + herself in time with all my husband’s relations. “Mrs. Margaret Delacour + should have addressed these thanks to you, Miss Portman, for I had not the + grace to think of sending her the macaw.” Lord Delacour, who was very fond + of his aunt, immediately joined his thanks, and observed that Miss Portman + was always considerate—always obliging—always kind. Then he + drank her health in a bumper of burgundy, and insisted upon his little + Helena’s drinking her health. “I am sure you ought, my dear, for Miss + Portman is very good—too good to you, child.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good—not too good, I hope,” said Lady Delacour. “Miss Portman, + your health.” + </p> + <p> + “And I hope,” continued his lordship, after swallowing his bumper, “that + my Lady Anne Percival does not mean to inveigle you away from us, Miss + Portman. You don’t think of leaving us, Miss Portman, I hope? Here’s + Helena would break her little heart;—I say nothing for my Lady + Delacour, because she can say every thing so much better for herself; and + I say nothing for myself, because I am the worst man in the world at + making speeches, when I really have a thing at heart—as I have your + staying with us, Miss Portman.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda assured him that there was no occasion to press her to do what was + perfectly agreeable to her, and said that she had no thoughts of leaving + Lady Delacour. Her ladyship, with some embarrassment, expressed herself + “extremely obliged, and gratified, and happy.” Helena, with artless joy, + threw her arms about Belinda, and exclaimed, “I am glad you are not going; + for I never liked any body so much, of whom I knew so little.” + </p> + <p> + “The more you know of Miss Portman the more you will like her, child—at + least I have found it so,” said Lord Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Clarence Hervey would, I am sure, have given the Pigot diamond, if it + were in his gift, for such a smile as you bestowed on Lord Delacour just + now,” whispered Lady Delacour. For an instant Belinda was struck with the + tone of pique and reproach, in which, her ladyship spoke. “Nay, my dear, I + did not mean to make you blush so piteously,” pursued her ladyship: “I + really did not think it a blushing matter—but you know best. Believe + me, I spoke without malice; we are so apt to judge from our own feelings—and + I could as soon blush about the old man of the mountains as about my Lord + Delacour.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Delacour!” said Belinda, with a look of such unfeigned surprise, + that her ladyship instantly changed countenance, and, taking her hand with + gaiety, said, “So, my little Belinda, I have caught you—the blush + belongs then to Clarence Hervey? Well, any man of common sense would + rather have one blush than a thousand smiles for his share: now we + understand one another. And will you go with me to the exhibition + to-morrow? I am told there are some charming pictures this year. Helena, + who really has a genius for drawing, should see these things; and whilst + she <i>is</i> with me, I will make her as happy as possible. You see the + reformation is beginning—Clarence Hervey and Miss Portman can do + wonders. If it be my fate, at last, to be <i>la bonne mère</i>, or <i>la + femme comme il y en a peu</i>, how can I help it? There is no struggling + against fate, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + Whenever Lady Delacour’s suspicions of Belinda were suspended, all her + affections returned with double force; she wondered at her own folly, she + was ashamed that she could have let such ideas enter her mind, and she was + beyond measure astonished that any thing relative to Lord Delacour could + so far have interested her attention. “Luckily,” said she to herself, “he + has not the penetration of a blind beetle; and, besides, he has little + snug jealousies of his own: so he will never find me out. It would be an + excellent thing indeed, if he were to turn my ‘<i>master-torment</i>’ + against myself—it would be a judgment upon me. The manes of poor + Lawless would then be appeased. But it is impossible I should ever be a + jealous wife: I am only a jealous friend, and I must satisfy myself about + Belinda. To be a second time a dupe to the treachery of a friend would be + too much for me—too much for my pride—too much for my heart.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, when they came to the exhibition, Lady Delacour had an + opportunity of judging of Belinda’s real feelings. As they went up the + stairs, they heard the voices of Sir Philip Baddely and Mr. Rochfort, who + were standing upon the landing-place, leaning over the banisters, and + running their little sticks along the iron rails, to try which could make + the loudest noise. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been much pleased with the pictures, gentlemen?” said Lady + Delacour, as she passed them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damme! no—‘tis a cursed bore; and yet there are some fine + pictures: one in particular—hey, Rochfort?—one damned fine + picture!” said Sir Philip. And the two gentlemen laughing significantly, + followed Lady Delacour and Belinda into the rooms. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, there’s one picture that’s worth all the rest, ‘pon honour!” repeated + Rochfort; “and we’ll leave it to your ladyship’s and Miss Portman’s taste + and judgment to find it out, mayn’t we, Sir Philip?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damme! yes,” said Sir Philip, “by all means.” But he was so impatient + to direct her eyes, that he could not keep himself still an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, curse it! Rochfort, we’d better tell the ladies at once, else they + may be all day looking and looking!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Sir Philip, may not I be allowed to guess? Must I be told which is + your fine picture?—This is not much in favour of my taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damn it! your ladyship has the best taste in the world, every body + knows; and so has Miss Portman—and this picture will hit her taste + particularly, I’m sure. It is Clarence Hervey’s fancy; but this is a dead + secret—dead—Clary no more thinks that we know it, than the man + in the moon.” + </p> + <p> + “Clarence Hervey’s fancy! Then I make no doubt of its being good for + something,” said Lady Delacour, “if the painter have done justice to his + imagination; for Clarence has really a fine imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damme! ‘tis not amongst the history pieces,” cried Sir Philip; “‘tis + a portrait.” + </p> + <p> + “And a history piece, too, ‘pon honour!” said Rochfort: “a family history + piece, I take it, ‘pon honour! it will turn out,” said Rochfort; and both + the gentlemen were, or affected to be, thrown into convulsions of + laughter, as they repeated the words, “family history piece, ‘pon honour!—family + history piece, damme!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take my oath as to the portrait’s being a devilish good likeness,” + added Sir Philip; and as he spoke, he turned to Miss Portman: “Miss + Portman has it! damme, Miss Portman has him!” + </p> + <p> + Belinda hastily withdrew her eyes from the picture at which she was + looking. “A most beautiful creature!” exclaimed Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, faith! yes; I always do Clary the justice to say, he has a damned + good taste for beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “But this seems to be foreign beauty,” continued Lady Delacour, “if one + may judge by her air, her dress, and the scenery about her—cocoa-trees, + plantains: Miss Portman, what think you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Belinda, (but her voice faltered so much that she could + hardly speak,) “that it is a scene from Paul and Virginia. I think the + figure is St. Pierre’s Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia St. Pierre! ma’am,” cried Mr. Rochfort, winking at Sir Philip. + “No, no, damme! there you are wrong, Rochfort; say Hervey’s Virginia, and + then you have it, damme! or, may be, Virginia Hervey—who knows?” + </p> + <p> + “This is a portrait,” whispered the baronet to Lady Delacour, “of + Clarence’s mistress.” Whilst her ladyship leant her ear to this whisper, + which was sufficiently audible, she fixed a seemingly careless, but most + observing, inquisitive eye upon poor Belinda. Her confusion, for she heard + the whisper, was excessive. + </p> + <p> + “She loves Clarence Hervey—she has no thoughts of Lord Delacour and + his coronet: I have done her injustice,” thought Lady Delacour, and + instantly she despatched Sir Philip out of the room, for a catalogue of + the pictures, begged Mr. Rochfort to get her something else, and, drawing + Miss Portman’s arm within hers, she said, in a low voice, “Lean upon me, + my dearest Belinda: depend upon it, Clarence will never be such a fool as + to marry the girl—Virginia Hervey she will never be!” + </p> + <p> + “And what will become of her? can Mr. Hervey desert her? she looks like + innocence itself—and so young, too! Can he leave her for ever to + sorrow, and vice, and infamy?” thought Belinda, as she kept her eyes + fixed, in silent anguish, upon the picture of Virginia. “No, he cannot do + this: if he could he would be unworthy of me, and I <i>ought</i> to think + of him no more. No; he will marry her; and I <i>must</i> think of him no + more.” + </p> + <p> + She turned abruptly away from the picture, and she saw Clarence Hervey + standing beside her. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of this picture? is it not beautiful? We are quite + enchanted with it; but you do not seem to be struck with it, as we were at + the first glance,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” answered Clarence, gaily, “it is not the first glance I have + had at that picture—I admired it yesterday, and admire it to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are tired of admiring it, I see. Well, we shall not force you to + be in raptures with it—shall we, Miss Portman? A man may be tired of + the most beautiful face in the world, or the most beautiful picture; but + really there is so much sweetness, so much innocence, such tender + melancholy in this countenance, that, if I were a man, I should inevitably + be in love with it, and in love for ever! Such beauty, if it were in + nature, would certainly fix the most inconstant man upon earth.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda ventured to take her eyes for an instant from the picture, to see + whether Clarence Hervey looked like the most inconstant man upon earth. He + was intently gazing upon her; but as soon as she looked round, he suddenly + exclaimed, as he turned to the picture—“A heavenly countenance, + indeed!—the painter has done justice to the poet.” + </p> + <p> + “Poet!” repeated Lady Delacour: “the man’s in the clouds!” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said Clarence; “does not M. de St. Pierre deserve to be + called a poet? Though he does not write in rhyme, surely he has a poetical + imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Belinda; and from the composure with which Mr. Hervey + now spoke, she was suddenly inclined to believe, or to hope, that all Sir + Philip’s story was false. “M. de St. Pierre undoubtedly has a great deal + of imagination, and deserves to be called a poet.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely, good people!” said Lady Delacour; “but what has that to do + with the present purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” cried Clarence, “your ladyship certainly sees that this is St. + Pierre’s Virginia?” + </p> + <p> + “St. Pierre’s Virginia! Oh, I know who it is, Clarence, as well as you do. + I am not quite so blind, or so stupid, as you take me to be.” Then + recollecting her promise, not to betray Sir Philip’s secret, she added, + pointing to the landscape of the picture, “These cocoa trees, this + fountain, and the words <i>Fontaine de Virginie</i>, inscribed on the rock—I + must have been stupidity itself, if I had not found it out. I absolutely + <i>can</i> read, Clarence, and spell, and put together. But here comes Sir + Philip Baddely, who, I believe, cannot read, for I sent him an hour ago + for a catalogue, and he pores over the book as if he had not yet made out + the title.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Philip had purposely delayed, because he was afraid of rejoining Lady + Delacour whilst Clarence Hervey was with her, and whilst they were talking + of the picture of Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the catalogue; here’s the picture your ladyship wants. St. + Pierre’s Virginia: damme! I never heard of that fellow before—he is + some new painter, damme! that is the reason I did not know the hand. Not a + word of what I told you, Lady Delacour—you won’t blow us to Clary,” + added he <i>aside</i> to her ladyship. “Rochfort keeps aloof; and so will + I, damme!” + </p> + <p> + A gentleman at this instant beckoned to Mr. Hervey with an air of great + eagerness. Clarence went and spoke to him, then returned with an altered + countenance, and apologized to Lady Delacour for not dining with her, as + he had promised. Business, he said, of great importance required that he + should leave town immediately. Helena had just taken Miss Portman into a + little room, where Westall’s drawings were hung, to show her a group of + Lady Anne Percival and her children; and Belinda was alone with the little + girl, when Mr. Hervey came to bid her adieu. He was in much agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman, I shall not, I am afraid, see you again for some time;—perhaps + I may never have that—hem!—happiness. I had something of + importance that I wished to say to you before I left town; but I am forced + to go so suddenly, I can hardly hope for any moment but the present to + speak to you, madam. May I ask whether you purpose remaining much longer + with Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Belinda, much surprised. “I believe—I am not quite + certain—but I believe I shall stay with her ladyship some time + longer.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey looked painfully embarrassed, and his eyes involuntarily fell + upon little Helena. Helena drew her hand gently away from Belinda, left + the room, and retired to her mother. + </p> + <p> + “That child, Miss Portman, is very fond of you,” said Mr. Hervey. Again he + paused, and looked round to see whether he could be overheard. “Pardon me + for what I am going to say. This is not a proper place. I must be abrupt; + for I am so circumstanced, that I have not a moment’s time to spare. May I + speak to you with the sincerity of a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Speak to me with sincerity,” said Belinda, “and you will deserve + that I should think you my friend.” She trembled excessively, but spoke + and looked with all the firmness that she could command. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard a report,” said Mr. Hervey, “which is most injurious to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “To me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. No one can escape calumny. It is whispered, that if Lady Delacour + should die—.” + </p> + <p> + At the word <i>die</i>, Belinda started. + </p> + <p> + “That if Lady Delacour should die, Miss Portman would become the mother of + Helena!” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! what an absurd report! Surely <i>you</i> could not for an + instant believe it, Mr. Hervey?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for an instant. But I resolved, as soon as I heard it, to mention it + to you; for I believe that half the miseries of the world arise from + foolish mysteries—from the want of courage to speak the truth. Now + that you are upon your guard, your own prudence will defend you + sufficiently. I never saw any of your sex who appeared to me to have so + much prudence, and so little art; but—farewell—I have not a + moment to lose,” added Clarence, suddenly checking himself; and he hurried + away from Belinda, who stood fixed to the spot where he left her, till she + was roused by the voices of several people who came into the room to see + the drawings. She started as if from a dream, and went immediately in + search of Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + Sir Philip Baddely was in earnest conversation with her ladyship; but he + stopped speaking when Belinda came within hearing, and Lady Delacour + turned to Helena, and said, “My dear, if you are satisfied, for mercy’s + sake let us be gone, for I am absolutely overcome with heat—and with + curiosity,” added she in a low voice to Belinda: “I long to hear how + Clarence Hervey likes Westall’s drawings.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as they got home, Lady Delacour sent her daughter to practise a + new lesson upon the piano forte. “And now sit down, my dear Belinda,” said + she, “and satisfy my curiosity. It is the curiosity of a friend, not of an + impertinent busybody. Has Clarence declared himself? He chose an odd time + and place; but that is no matter; I forgive him, and so do you, I dare + say. But why do you tear that unfortunate carnation to pieces? Surely you + cannot be embarrassed in speaking to me! What’s the matter? I once did + tell you, that I would not give up my claim to Clarence’s adorations + during my life; but I intend to live a few years longer after the + amazonian operation is performed, you know; and I could not have the + conscience to keep you waiting whole years. It is better to do things with + a good grace, lest one should be forced at last to do them with an ill + grace. Therefore I give up all manner of claim to every thing but—flattery! + that of course you will allow me from poor Clarence. So now do not begin + upon another flower; but, without any farther superfluous modesty, let me + hear all the pretty things Clarence said or swore.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Belinda was pulling the carnation to pieces, she recollected what + Mr. Hervey had said to her about mysteries: his words still sounded in her + ear. “<i>I believe that half the miseries of the world arise from foolish + mysteries—from the want of courage to speak the truth</i>.” I will + have the courage to speak the truth, thought she, whatever it may cost me. + </p> + <p> + “The only pretty thing that Mr. Hervey said was, that he never saw any + woman who had so much prudence and so little art,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “A very pretty thing indeed, my dear! But it might have been said in open + court by your grandfather, or your great-grandfather. I am sorry, if that + was all, that Helena did not stay to hear such a charming moral compliment—<i>Moralité + à la glace</i>. The last thing I should have expected in a <i>tête-à-tête</i> + with Clarence Hervey. Was it worth while to pull that poor flower to + pieces for such a pretty speech as this? And so that was all?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not all: but you overpower me with your wit; and I cannot stand the + ‘lightning of your eyes.’” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said her ladyship, letting down her veil over her face, “the fire + of my eyes is not too much for you now.” + </p> + <p> + “Helena was showing me Westall’s drawing of Lady Anne Percival and her + children—” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Hervey wished that he was the father of such a charming group of + children, and you the mother—hey? was not that it? It was not put in + such plain terms, but that was the purport, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not at all; he said nothing about Lady Anne Percival’s children, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But—why then did you bring in her ladyship and her children? To + gain time?—Bad policy!—Never, whilst you live, when you have a + story to tell, bring in a parcel of people who have nothing to do with the + beginning, the middle, or the end of it. How could I suspect you of such + false taste! I really imagined these children were essential to the + business; but I beg pardon for giving you these elements of criticism. I + assure you I interrupt you, and talk on so fast, from pure good-nature, to + give you time to recollect yourself; for I know you’ve the worst of + memories, especially for what Clarence Hervey says. But come, my dear, + dash into the middle of things at once, in the true Epic style.” + </p> + <p> + “Then to dash into the midst of things at once,” said Miss Portman, + speaking very quick: “Mr. Hervey observed that Miss Delacour was growing + very fond of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Delacour, did you say?” cried her ladyship: “<i>Et puis</i>?” + </p> + <p> + At this instant Champfort opened the door, looked in, and seeing Lady + Delacour, immediately retired. + </p> + <p> + “Champfort, whom do you want—or what do you want?” said her + ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “Miladi, c’est que—I did come from milord, to see if miladi and + mademoiselle were visible. I did tink miladi was not at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You see I am at home, though,” said her ladyship. “Has Lord Delacour any + business with me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, miladi: not with miladi,” said Champfort; “it was with mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “With me, Monsieur Champfort? then you will be so good as to tell Lord + Delacour I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “And that <i>I</i> am not here, Champfort; for I must be gone to dress.” + </p> + <p> + She rose hastily to leave the room, but Miss Portman caught her hand: “You + won’t go, I hope, Lady Delacour,” said she, “till I have finished my long + story?” Lady Delacour sat down again, ashamed of her own embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + Whether this be art, innocence, or assurance, thought she, I cannot tell; + but we shall see. + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour now came in, with a half-unfolded newspaper, and a packet of + letters in his hand. He came to apologize to Miss Portman for having, by + mistake, broken the seal of a letter to her, which had been sent under + cover to him. He had simply asked Champfort whether the ladies were at + home, that he might not have the trouble of going up stairs if they were + out. Monsieur Champfort possessed, in an eminent degree, the mischievous + art of appearing mysterious about the simplest things in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Though I was so thoughtless as to break the seal before I looked at the + direction of the letter,” said Lord Delacour, “I assure you I went no + farther than the first three words; for I knew ‘my dear niece’ could not + possibly mean me.” He gave Miss Portman the letter, and left the room. + This explanation was perfectly satisfactory to Belinda; but Lady Delacour, + prejudiced by the hesitation of Champfort, could not help suspecting that + this letter was merely the ostensible cause of his lordship’s visit. + </p> + <p> + “From my aunt Stanhope,” said Miss Portman, as she opened her letter. She + folded it up again after glancing over the first page, and put it into her + pocket, colouring deeply. + </p> + <p> + All Lady Delacour’s suspicions about Mrs. Stanhope’s epistolary counsels + and secrets instantly recurred, with almost the force of conviction to her + mind. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman,” said she, “I hope your politeness to me does not prevent + you from reading your letter? Some ceremonious people think it vastly rude + to read a letter in company; but I am not one of them: I can write whilst + you read, for I have fifty notes and more to answer. So pray read your + letter at your ease.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda had but just unfolded her letter again, when Lord Delacour + returned, followed by Champfort, who brought with him a splendid + hammer-cloth. + </p> + <p> + “Here, my dear Lady Delacour,” said his lordship, “is a little surprise + for you: here is a new hammer-cloth, of my bespeaking and taste, which I + hope you will approve of.” + </p> + <p> + “Very handsome, upon my word!” said Lady Delacour, coldly, and she fixed + her eyes upon the fringe, which was black and orange: “Miss Portman’s + taste, I see!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not say black and orange fringe, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I said blue and white, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship declared he did not know how the mistake had happened; it was + merely a mistake:—but her ladyship was convinced that it was done on + purpose. And she said to herself, “Miss Portman will order my liveries + next! I have not even the shadow of power left in my own house! I am not + treated with even a decent show of respect! But this shall go on till I + have full conviction of her views.” + </p> + <p> + Dissembling her displeasure, she praised the hammer-cloth, and especially + the fringe. Lord Delacour retired satisfied; and Miss Portman sat down to + read the following letter from her aunt Stanhope. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — JEALOUSY. + </h2> + <p> + “Crescent, Bath, July—Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR NIECE, + </p> + <p> + “I received safely the bank notes for my two hundred guineas, enclosed in + your last. But you should never trust unnecessarily in this manner to the + post—always, when you are obliged to send bank notes by post, cut + them in two, and send half by one post and half by another. This is what + is done by all prudent people. Prudence, whether in trifles or in matters + of consequence, can be learned only by experience (which is often too + dearly bought), or by listening, which costs nothing, to the suggestions + of those who have a thorough knowledge of the world. + </p> + <p> + “A report has just reached me concerning you and <i>a certain lord</i>, + which gives me the most heartfelt concern. I always knew, and told you, + that you were <i>a great favourite</i> with the person in question. I + depended on your prudence, delicacy, and principles, to understand this + hint properly, and I trusted that you would conduct yourself accordingly. + It is too plain, (from the report alluded to,) that there has been some + misconduct or mis-management somewhere. The misconduct I cannot—the + mis-management I must, attribute to you, my dear; for let a man’s + admiration for any woman be ever so great, unless she suffer herself to be + dazzled by vanity, or unless she be naturally of an inconsiderate temper, + she can surely prevent his partiality from becoming so glaring as to + excite envy: envy is always to be dreaded by handsome young women, as + being, sooner or later, infallibly followed by scandal. Of this, I fear, + you have not been sufficiently aware, and you see the consequences—consequences + which, to a female of genuine delicacy or of real good sense, must be + extremely alarming. Men of contracted minds and cold tempers, who are + absolutely incapable of feeling generous passion for our sex, are often + unaccountably ambitious to gain the reputation of being <i>well</i> with + any woman whose beauty, accomplishments, or connexions, may have brought + her into fashion. Whatever affection may be pretended, this is frequently + the <i>ultimate</i> and <i>sole</i> object of these selfish creatures. + Whether or not the person I have in my eye deserves to be included in this + class, I will not presume positively to determine; but you, who have + personal opportunities of observation, may decide this point (if you have + any curiosity on the subject) by observing whether he most affects to pay + his devoirs to you in public or in private. If the latter be the case, it + is the most dangerous; because a man even of the most contracted + understanding has always sense or instinct enough to feel that the + slightest taint in the reputation of the woman who is, or who is to be, + his wife, would affect his own private peace, or his honour in the eyes of + the world. A husband who has in a first marriage been, as it is said, in + constant fear both of matrimonial subjugation and disgrace, would, in his + choice of a second lady, be peculiarly nice, and probably <i>tardy</i>. + Any degree of favour that might have been shown him, any report that may + have been raised, and above all, any restraint he might feel himself under + from implied engagement, or from the discovery or reputation of superior + understanding and talents in the object beloved, would operate infallibly + against her, to the confusion of all her plans, and the ruin at once of + her reputation, her peace of mind, and her hopes of an establishment. Nay, + supposing the best that could possibly happen—that, after playing + with the utmost dexterity this desperate game, the pool were absolutely + your own; yet, if there were any suspicions of unfair play buzzed about + amongst the by-standers, you would not in the main be a gainer; for my + dear, without character, what is even wealth, or all that wealth can + bestow? I do not mean to trouble you with stale wise sayings, which young + people hate; nor musty morality, which is seldom fit for use in the world, + or which smells too much of books to be brought into good company. This is + not my way of giving advice; but I only beg you to observe what actually + passes before your eyes in the circle in which we live. Ladies of the best + families, with rank and fortune, and beauty and fashion, and every thing + in their favour, cannot (as yet in this country) dispense with the + strictest observance of the rules of virtue and decorum. Some have fancied + themselves raised so high above the vulgar as to be in no danger from the + thunder and lightning of public opinion; but these ladies in the clouds + have found themselves mistaken—they have been blasted, and have + fallen nobody knows where! What is become of Lady ——, and the + Countess of ——, and others I could mention, who were as high + as envy could look? I remember seeing the Countess of ——, who + was then the most beautiful creature my eyes ever beheld, and the most + admired that ever was heard of, come into the Opera-house, and sit the + whole night in her box without any woman’s speaking or courtesying to her, + or taking any more notice of her than you would of a post, or a + beggar-woman. Even a coronet cannot protect a woman, you see, from + disgrace: if she falls, she and it, and all together, are trampled under + foot. But why should I address all this to my dear niece? Whither have the + terror and confusion I was thrown into by this strange report about you + and Lord —— led me? And yet one cannot be too cautious—‘Ce + n’est que le premier <i>mot</i> qui coute’—Scandal never stops after + the first word, unless she be instantly gagged by a dexterous hand. + Nothing shall be wanting on my part, but you alone are the person who can + do any thing effectual Do not imagine that I would have you quit Lady——; + that is the first idea, I know, that will come into your silly little + head, but put it out directly. If you were upon this attack to quit the + field of battle, you yield the victory to your enemies. To leave Lady——‘s + house would be folly and madness. As long as she is your friend, or <i>appears</i> + such, all is safe; but any coolness on her part would, in the present + circumstances, be death to your reputation. And, even if you were to leave + her on the best terms possible, the malicious world would say that you + left her on the worst, and would assign as a reason the report alluded to. + People who have not yet believed it would then conclude that it must be + true; and thus by your cowardice you would furnish an incontrovertible + argument against your innocence. I therefore desire that you will not, + upon any account, think of coming home to me at present; indeed, I hope + your own good sense would prevent you from wishing it, after the reasons + that I have given. Far from quitting Lady —— from false + delicacy, it is your business, from consideration for her peace, as well + as your own, to redouble your attentions to her in private, and, above all + things, to appear as much as possible with her in public. I am glad to + hear her health is so far reestablished, that she <i>can</i> appear again + in public; her spirits, as you may hint, will be the better for a little + amusement. Luckily, you have it completely in your power to convince her + and all the world of the correctness of your mind. I believe I certainly + should have fainted, my dear, when I first heard this shocking report, if + I had not just afterward received a letter from Sir Philip Baddely which + revived me. His proposal at this crisis for you, my dear, is a charming + thing. You have nothing to do but to encourage his addresses immediately,—the + report dies away of itself, and all is just as your best friends wish. + Such an establishment for you, my dear, is indeed beyond their most + sanguine expectations. Sir Philip hints in his letter, that my influence + might be wanting with you in his favour; but this surely cannot be. As I + have told him, he has merely mistaken becoming female reserve for a want + of sensibility on your part, which would be equally unnatural and absurd. + Do you know, my dear, that Sir Philip Baddely has an estate of fifteen + thousand a-year in Wiltshire? and his uncle Barton’s estate in Norfolk + will, in due time, pay his debts. Then, as to family—look in the + lists of baronets in your pocket-book; and surely, my love, an old + baronetage in actual possession is worth something more than the reversion + of a new coronet; supposing that such a thing could properly be thought + of, which Heaven forbid! So I see no possible objection to Sir Philip, my + dear Belinda! and I am sure you have too much candour and good sense to + make any childish or romantic difficulties. Sir Philip is not, I know, a + man of what you call genius. So much the better, my dear—those men + of genius are dangerous husbands; they have so many oddities and + eccentricities, there is no managing them, though they are mighty pleasant + men in company to enliven conversation; for example, your favourite, + Clarence Hervey. As it is well known he is not a marrying man, you never + can have thought of him. You are not a girl to expose yourself to the + ridicule, &c., of all your female acquaintance by romance and + nonsense. I cannot conceive that a niece of mine could degrade herself by + a mean prepossession for a man who has never made any declaration of his + attachment to her, and who, I am sure, feels no such attachment. That you + may not deceive yourself, it is fit I should tell you, what otherwise it + might not be so proper to mention to a young lady, that he keeps and has + kept a mistress for some years; and those who are most intimately in his + confidence have assured me that, if ever he marries any body, he will + marry this girl; which is not impossible, considering that she is, they + say, the most beautiful young creature that ever was seen, and he <i>a man + of genius</i>. If you have any sense or spirit, I have said enough. So + adieu!—Let me hear, by return of the post, that every thing is going + on as it should do. I am impatient to write to your sister Tollemache this + good news. I always foretold that my Belinda would marry better than her + sister, or any of her cousins, and take place of them all. Are not you + obliged to me for sending you this winter to town to Lady ——? + It was an admirable hit. Pray tell Lady Delacour, with my best + compliments, that our <i>aloe</i> friend (her ladyship will understand me) + cheated a gentleman of my acquaintance the other day, at casino, out of + seventy guineas. He hates the sight of her odious red wig as much now as + we always did. I knew, and told Lady D——, as she will do me + the justice to remember, that Mrs.——cheated at play. What a + contemptible character!—Pray, my dear, do not forget to tell Lady + Delacour, that I have a charming anecdote for her, about another <i>friend</i> + of ours, who has lately gone over to the enemy. Has her ladyship seen a + manuscript that is handed about as a great secret, and said to be by + ——, a parallel between <i>our friend</i> and the Chevalier + d’Eon? It is done with infinite wit and humour, in the manner of Plutarch. + I would send a copy, but am afraid my frank would be too heavy if I began + upon another sheet. So once more adieu, my dear niece! Write to me without + fail, and mention Sir Philip. I have written to him to give my + approbation, &c. + </p> + <p> + “Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + “SELINA STANHOPE.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Stanhope seems to have written you a volume instead of a letter, + Miss Portman,” cried Lady Delacour, as Belinda turned over the sheets of + her aunt’s long epistle. She did not attempt to read it regularly through: + some passages here and there were sufficient to astonish and shock her + extremely. “No bad news, I hope?” said Lady Delacour, again looking up + from her writing at Belinda, who sat motionless, leaning her head upon her + hand, as if deep in thought, Mrs. Stanhope’s unfolded letter hanging from + her hand. In the midst of the variety of embarrassing, painful, and + alarming feelings excited by this letter, she had sufficient strength of + mind to adhere to her resolution of speaking the exact truth to Lady + Delacour. When she was roused by her ladyship’s question, “No bad news, I + hope, Miss Portman?” she instantly answered, with all the firmness she + could command. “Yes. My aunt has been alarmed by a strange report which I + heard myself for the first time this morning from Mr. Hervey. I am sure I + am much obliged to him for having the courage to speak the truth to me.” + Here she repeated what Mr. Hervey had said to her. Lady Delacour never + raised her eyes whilst Belinda spoke, but went on scratching out some + words in what she was writing. Through the mask of paint which she wore no + change of colour could be visible; and as Belinda did not see the + expression of her ladyship’s eyes, she could not in the least judge of + what was passing in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hervey has acted like a man of honour and sense,” said Lady Delacour; + “but it is a pity, for your sake, he did not speak sooner—before + this report became so public—before it reached Bath, and your aunt. + Though it could not surprise her much, she has such a perfect knowledge of + the world, and ——” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour uttered these broken sentences in a voice of suppressed + anger; cleared her throat several times, and at last, unable to speak, + stopped short, and then began with much precipitation to put wafers into + several notes that she had been writing. So it has reached Bath, thought + she—the report is public! I never till now heard a hint of any such + thing except from Sir Philip Baddely; but it has doubtless been the common + talk of the town, and I am laughed at as a dupe and an idiot, as I am. And + now, when the thing can he concealed no longer, she comes to me with that + face of simplicity, and knowing my generous temper, throws herself on my + mercy, and trusts that her speaking to me with this audacious plainness + will convince me of her innocence. “You have acted in the most prudent + manner possible, Miss Portman,” said her ladyship, as she went on sealing + her notes, “by speaking at once to me of this strange, scandalous, absurd + report. Do you act from your aunt Stanhope’s advice, or entirely from your + own judgment and knowledge of my character?” + </p> + <p> + “From my own judgment and knowledge of your character, in which I hope—I + am not—I cannot be mistaken,” said Belinda, looking at her with a + mixture of doubt and astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “No—you calculated admirably—‘twas the best, the only thing + you could do. Only,” said her ladyship, falling back in her chair with an + hysteric laugh, “only the blunder of Champfort, and the entrance of my + Lord Delacour, and the hammercloth with the orange and black fringe—forgive + me, my dear; for the soul of me I can’t help laughing—it was rather + unlucky; so awkward, such a contretemps! But you,” added she, wiping her + eyes, as if recovering from laughter, “you have such admirable presence of + mind, nothing disconcerts you! You are equal to all situations, and stand + in no need of such long letters of advice from your aunt Stanhope,” + pointing to the two folio sheets which lay at Belinda’s feet. + </p> + <p> + The rapid, unconnected manner in which Lady Delacour spoke, the hurry of + her motions, the quick, suspicious, angry glances of her eye, her laugh, + her unintelligible words, all conspired at this moment to give Belinda the + idea that her intellects were suddenly disordered. She was so firmly + persuaded of her ladyship’s utter indifference to Lord Delacour, that she + never conceived the possibility of her being actuated by the passion of + jealousy—by the jealousy of power—a species of jealousy which + she had never felt, and could not comprehend. But she had sometimes seen + Lady Delacour in starts of passion that seemed to border on insanity, and + the idea of her losing all command of her reason now struck Belinda with + irresistible force. She felt the necessity of preserving her own + composure; and with all the calmness that she could assume, she took up + her aunt Stanhope’s letter, and looked for the passage in which Mrs. + Luttridge and Harriot Freke were mentioned. If I can turn the course of + Lady Delacour’s mind, thought she, or catch her attention, perhaps she + will recover herself. “Here is a message to you, my dear Lady Delacour,” + cried she, “from my aunt Stanhope, about—about Mrs. Luttridge.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman’s hand trembled as she turned over the pages of the letter. + “I am all attention,” said Lady Delacour, with a composed voice; “only + take care, don’t make a mistake: I’m in no hurry; don’t read any thing + Mrs. Stanhope might not wish. It is dangerous to garble letters, almost as + dangerous as to snatch them out of a friend’s hand, as I once did, you + know—but you need not now be under the least alarm.” + </p> + <p> + Conscious that this letter was not fit for her ladyship to see, Belinda + neither offered to show it to her, nor attempted any apology for her + reserve and embarrassment, but hastily began to read the message relative + to Mrs. Luttridge; her voice gaining confidence as she went on, as she + observed that she had fixed Lady Delacour’s attention, who now sat + listening to her, calm and motionless. But when Miss Portman came to the + words, “Do not forget to tell Lady D ——, that I have a + charming anecdote for her about another <i>friend</i> of hers, who lately + went over to the enemy,” her ladyship exclaimed with great vehemence, “<i>Friend</i>!—Harriot + Freke!—Yes, like all other friends—Harriot Freke!—What + was she compared to? ‘Tis too much for me—too much!” and she put her + hand to her head. + </p> + <p> + “Compose yourself, my dear <i>friend</i>,” said Belinda, in a calm, gentle + tone; and she went toward her with an intention of soothing her by + caresses; but, at her approach, Lady Delacour pushed the table on which + she had been writing from her with violence, started up, flung back the + veil which fell over her face as she rose, and darted upon Belinda a look, + which fixed her to the spot where she stood. It said, “Come not a step + nearer, at your peril!” Belinda’s blood ran cold—she had no longer + any doubt that this was insanity. She shut the penknife which lay upon the + table, and put it into her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Cowardly creature!” cried Lady Delacour, and her countenance changed to + the expression of ineffable contempt; “what is it you fear?” + </p> + <p> + “That you should injure yourself. Sit down—for Heaven’s sake listen + to me, to your friend, to Belinda!” + </p> + <p> + “My friend! my Belinda!” cried Lady Delacour, and she turned from her, and + walked away some steps in silence; then suddenly clasping her hands, she + raised her eyes to heaven with a fervent but wild expression of devotion, + and exclaimed, “Great God of heaven, my punishment is just! the death of + Lawless is avenged. May the present agony of my soul expiate my folly! Of + guilt—deliberate guilt—of hypocrisy—treachery—I + have not—oh, never may I have—to repent!” + </p> + <p> + She paused—her eyes involuntarily returned upon Belinda. “Oh, + Belinda! You, whom I have so loved—so trusted!” + </p> + <p> + The tears rolled fast down her painted cheeks; she wiped them hastily + away, and so roughly, that her face became a strange and ghastly + spectacle. Unconscious of her disordered appearance, she rushed past + Belinda, who vainly attempted to stop her, threw up the sash, and + stretching herself far out of the window, gasped for breath. Miss Portman + drew her back, and closed the window, saying, “The rouge is all off your + face, my dear Lady Delacour; you are not fit to be seen. Sit down upon + this sofa, and I will ring for Marriott, and get some fresh rouge. Look at + your face in this glass—you see—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” interrupted Lady Delacour, looking full at Belinda, “that she who + I thought had the noblest of souls has the meanest! I see that she is + incapable of feeling. <i>Rouge! not fit to be seen</i>!—At such a + time as this, to talk to me in this manner! Oh, niece of Mrs. Stanhope!—dupe!—dupe + that I am!” She flung herself upon the sofa, and struck her forehead with + her hand violently several times. Belinda catching her arm, and holding it + with all her force, cried in a tone of authority, “Command yourself, Lady + Delacour, I conjure you, or you will go out of your senses; and if you do, + your secret will be discovered by the whole world.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold me not—you have no right,” cried Lady Delacour, struggling to + free her hand. “All-powerful as you are in this house, you have no longer + any power over me! I am not going out of my senses! You cannot get me into + Bedlam, all-powerful, all-artful as you are. You have done enough to drive + me mad—but I am not mad. No wonder you cannot believe me—no + wonder you are astonished at the strong expression of feelings that are + foreign to your nature—no wonder that you mistake the writhings of + the heart, the agony of a generous soul, for madness! Look not so + terrified; I will do you no injury. Do not you hear that I can lower my + voice?—do not you see that I can be calm? Could Mrs. Stanhope + herself—could <i>you</i>, Miss Portman, speak in a softer, milder, + more polite, more proper tone than I do now? Are you pleased, are you + satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “I am better satisfied—a little better satisfied,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “That’s well; but still you tremble. There’s not the least occasion for + apprehension—you see I can command myself, and smile upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not smile in that horrid manner!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?—‘Horrid!—Don’t you love deceit?” + </p> + <p> + “I detest it from my soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Lady Delacour, still speaking in the same low, soft, + unnatural voice: “then why do you practise it, my love?” + </p> + <p> + “I never practised it for a moment—I am incapable of deceit. When + you are <i>really</i> calm, when you can <i>really</i> command yourself, + you will do me justice, Lady Delacour; but now it is my business, if I + can, to bear with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are goodness itself, and gentleness, and prudence personified. You + know perfectly how to <i>manage</i> a friend, whom you fear you have + driven just to the verge of madness. But tell me, good, gentle, prudent + Miss Portman, why need you dread so much that I should go mad? You know, + if I went mad, nobody would mind, nobody would believe whatever I say—I + should be no evidence against you, and I should be out of your way + sufficiently, shouldn’t I? And you would have all the power in your own + hands, would not you? And would not this be almost as well as if I were + dead and buried? No; your calculations are better than mine. The poor mad + wife would still be in your way, would yet stand between you and the fond + object of your secret soul—a coronet!” + </p> + <p> + As she pronounced the word <i>coronet</i>, she pointed to a coronet set in + diamonds on her watch-case, which lay on the table. Then suddenly seizing + the watch, she dashed it upon the marble hearth with all her force—“Vile + bauble!” cried she; “must I lose my only friend for such a thing as you? + Oh, Belinda! do you see that a coronet cannot confer happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it long: I pity you from the bottom of my soul,” said + Belinda, bursting into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Pity me not. I cannot endure your pity, treacherous woman!” cried Lady + Delacour, and she stamped with a look of rage—“most perfidious of + women!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, call me perfidious, treacherous—stamp at me—say, do what + you will; I can and will bear it all—all patiently; for I am + innocent, and you are mistaken and unhappy,” said Belinda. “You will love + me when you return to your senses; then how can I be angry with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Fondle me not,” said Lady Delacour, starting back from Belinda’s + caresses: “do not degrade yourself to no purpose—I never more can be + your dupe. Your protestations of innocence are wasted on me—I am not + so blind as you imagine—dupe as you think me, I have seen much in + silence. The whole world, you find, suspects you now. To save your + reputation, you want my friendship—you want—” + </p> + <p> + “I want nothing from you, Lady Delacour,” said Belinda. “<i>You have + suspected me long in silence!</i> then I have mistaken your character—I + can love you no longer. Farewell for ever! Find another—a better + friend.” + </p> + <p> + She walked away from Lady Delacour with proud indignation; but, before she + reached the door, she recollected her promise to remain with this + unfortunate woman. + </p> + <p> + Is a dying woman, in the paroxysm of insane passion, a fit object of + indignation? thought Belinda, and she stopped short. “No, Lady Delacour,” + cried she, “I will not yield to my humour—I will not listen to my + pride. A few words said in the heat of passion shall not make me forget + myself or you. You have given me your confidence; I am grateful for it. I + cannot, will not desert you: my promise is sacred.” + </p> + <p> + “Your promise!” said Lady Delacour, contemptuously. “I absolve you from + your promise. Unless you find it <i>convenient</i> to yourself to remember + it, pray let it be forgotten; and if I must die—” + </p> + <p> + At this instant the door opened suddenly, and little Helena came in + singing— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Merrily, merrily shall we live now, + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.’ +</pre> + <p> + What comes next, Miss Portman?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour dragged her veil across her face, and rushed out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?—Is mamma ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear,” said Belinda. But at this instant she heard the sound of + Lord Delacour’s voice upon the stairs; she broke from the little girl, and + with the greatest precipitation retreated to her own room. + </p> + <p> + She had not been alone above an hour before Marriott knocked at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman, you don’t know how late it is. Lady Singleton and the Miss + Singletons are come. But, merciful heaven!” exclaimed Marriott, as she + entered the room, “what is all this packing up? What is this trunk?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to Oakly-park with Lady Anne Percival,” said Belinda, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I thought there was something wrong; my mind misgave me all the time I + was dressing my lady,—she was in such a flutter, and never spoke to + me. I’d lay my life this is, some way or other, Mr. Champfort’s doings. + But, good dear Miss Portman, can you leave my poor lady when she wants you + so much; and I’ll take upon me to say, ma’am, loves you so much at the + bottom of her heart? Dear me, how your face is flushed! Pray let me pack + up these things, if it must be. But I do hope, if it be possible, that you + should stay. However, I’ve no business to speak. I beg pardon for being so + impertinent: I hope you won’t take it ill,—it is only from regard to + my poor lady I ventured to speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Your regard to your lady deserves the highest approbation, Marriott,” + said Belinda. “It is impossible that I should stay with her any longer. + When I am gone, good Marriott, and when her health and strength decline, + your fidelity and your services will be absolutely necessary to your + mistress; and from what I have seen of the goodness of your heart, I am + convinced that the more she is in want of you, the more <i>respectful</i> + will be your attention.” + </p> + <p> + Marriott answered only by her tears, and went on packing up in a great + hurry. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could equal Lady Delacour’s astonishment when she learnt from + Marriott that Miss Portman was actually preparing to leave the house. + After a moment’s reflection, however, she persuaded herself that this was + only a new artifice to work upon her affections; that Belinda did not mean + to leave her; but that she would venture all lengths, in hopes of being at + the last moment pressed to stay. Under this persuasion, Lady Delacour + resolved to disappoint her expectations: she determined to meet her with + that polite coldness which would best become her own dignity, and which, + without infringing the laws of hospitality, would effectually point out to + the world that Lady Delacour was no dupe, and that Miss Portman was an + unwelcome inmate in her house. + </p> + <p> + The power of assuming gaiety when her heart was a prey to the most + poignant feelings, she had completely acquired by long practice. With the + promptitude of an actress, she could instantly appear upon the stage, and + support a character totally foreign to her own. The loud knocks at the + door, which announced the arrival of company, were signals that operated + punctually upon her associations; and to this species of conventional + necessity her most violent passions submitted with magical celerity. Fresh + rouged, and beautifully dressed, she was performing her part to a + brilliant audience in her drawing-room when Belinda entered. Belinda + beheld her with much astonishment, but more pity. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman,” said her ladyship, turning carelessly towards her, “where + do you buy your rouge?—Lady Singleton, would you rather at this + moment be mistress of the philosopher’s stone, or have a patent for rouge + that will come and go like Miss Portman’s?—Apropos! have you read + St. Leon?” Her ladyship was running on to a fresh train of ideas, when a + footman announced the arrival of Lady Anne Percival’s carriage; and Miss + Portman rose to depart. + </p> + <p> + “You dine with Lady Anne, Miss Portman, I understand?—My compliments + to her ladyship, and my duty to Mrs. Margaret Delacour, and her macaw. <i>Au + revoir</i>! Though you talk of running away from me to Oakly-park, I am + sure you will do no such cruel thing. I am, with all due humility, so + confident of the irresistible attractions of this house, that I defy + Oakly-park and all its charms. So, Miss Portman, instead of adieu, I shall + only say, <i>au revoir!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, Lady Delacour!” said Belinda, with a look and tone which struck + her ladyship to the heart. All her suspicions, all her pride, all her + affected gaiety vanished; her presence of mind forsook her, and for some + moments she stood motionless and powerless. Then recollecting herself, she + flew after Miss Portman, abruptly stopped her at the head of the stairs, + and exclaimed, “My dearest Belinda, are you gone?—My best, my only + friend!—Say you are not gone for ever!—Say you will return!” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!” repeated Belinda. It was all she could say; she broke from Lady + Delacour, and hurried out of the house with the strongest feeling of + compassion for this unhappy woman, but with an unaltered sense of the + propriety and necessity of her own firmness. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. + </h2> + <p> + There was an air of benevolence and perfect sincerity in the politeness + with which Lady Anne Percival received Belinda, that was peculiarly + agreeable to her agitated and harassed mind. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Lady Anne,” said Belinda, “that I come to you at last, after + having so often refused your kind invitations.” + </p> + <p> + “So you surrender yourself at discretion, just when I was going to raise + the siege in despair,” said Lady Anne: “now I may make my own terms; and + the only terms I shall impose are, that you will stay at Oakly-park with + us, as long as we can make it agreeable to you, and no longer. Whether + those who cease to please, or those who cease to be pleased, are most to + blame,<a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6" id="linknoteref-6"><small>6</small></a> + it may sometimes be difficult to determine; so difficult, that when this + becomes a question between two friends, they perhaps had better part than + venture upon the discussion.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Anne Percival could not avoid suspecting that something disagreeable + had passed between Lady Delacour and Belinda; but she was not troubled + with the disease of idle curiosity, and her example prevailed upon Mrs. + Margaret Delacour, who dined with her, to refrain from all questions and + comments. + </p> + <p> + The prejudice which this lady had conceived against our heroine, as being + a niece of Mrs. Stanhope’s, had lately been vanquished by the favourable + representations of her conduct which she had heard from her nephew, and by + the kindness that Belinda had shown to little Helena. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said Mrs. Delacour, addressing herself to Miss Portman with some + formality, but much dignity, “permit me, as one of my Lord Delacour’s + nearest relations now living, to return you my thanks for having, as my + nephew informs me, exerted your influence over Lady Delacour for the + happiness of his family. My little Helena, I am sure, feels her + obligations towards you, and I rejoice that I have had an opportunity of + expressing, in person, my sense of what our family owes to Miss Portman. + As to the rest, her own heart will reward her. The praise of the world is + but an inferior consideration. However, it deserves to be mentioned, as an + instance of the world’s candour, and for the singularity of the case, that + every body agrees in speaking well even of so handsome a young lady as + Miss Portman.” + </p> + <p> + “She must have had extraordinary prudence,” said Lady Anne; “and the world + does justly to reward it with extraordinary esteem.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, with equal pleasure and surprise, observed that all this was said + sincerely, and that the report, which she had feared was public, had never + reached Mrs. Delacour or Lady Anne Percival. + </p> + <p> + In fact, it was known and believed only by those who had been prejudiced + by the malice or folly of Sir Philip Baddely. Piqued by the manner in + which his addresses had been received by Belinda, he readily listened to + the comfortable words of his valet de chambre, who assured him that he had + it from the best possible authority (Lord Delacour’s own gentleman, Mr. + Champfort), that his lordship was deeply <i>taken</i> with Miss Portman—that + the young lady managed every thing in the house—that she had been + very prudent, to be sure, and had refused large presents—but that + there was no doubt of her becoming Lady Delacour, if ever his lordship + should be at liberty. Sir Philip was the person who mentioned this to + Clarence Hervey, and Sir Philip was the person who hinted it to Mrs. + Stanhope, in the very letter which he wrote to implore her influence in + favour of his own proposal. This manoeuvring lady represented this report + as being universally known and believed, in hopes of frightening her niece + into an immediate match with the baronet. In the whole extent of Mrs. + Stanhope’s politic imagination, she had never foreseen the possibility of + her niece’s speaking the simple truth to Lady Delacour, and she had never + guarded against this danger. She never thought of Belinda’s mentioning + this report to her ladyship, because she would never have dealt so openly, + had she been in the place of her niece. Thus her art and falsehood + operated against her own views, and produced consequences diametrically + opposite to her expectations. It was her exaggerations that made Lady + Delacour believe, when Belinda repeated what she had said, that this + report was universally known and credited; her own suspicions were by + these means again awakened, and her jealousy and rage were raised to such + a pitch, that, no longer mistress of herself, she insulted her friend and + guest. Miss Portman was then obliged to do the very thing that Mrs. + Stanhope most dreaded—to leave Lady Delacour’s house and all its + advantages. As to Sir Philip Baddely, Belinda never thought of him from + the moment she read her aunt’s letter, till after she had left her + ladyship; her mind was firmly decided upon this subject; yet she could not + help fearing that her aunt would not understand her reasons, or approve + her conduct. She wrote to Mrs. Stanhope in the most kind and respectful + manner; assured her that there had been no foundation whatever for the + report which had produced so much uneasiness; that Lord Delacour had + always treated her with politeness and good-nature, but that such thoughts + or views as had been attributed to him, she was convinced had never + entered his lordship’s mind; that hearing of the publicity of this report + had, however, <i>much affected</i> Lady D——. “I have, + therefore,” said Belinda, “thought it prudent to quit her ladyship, and to + accept of an invitation from Lady Anne Percival to Oakly-park. I hope, my + dear aunt, that you will not be displeased by my leaving town without + seeing Sir Philip Baddely again. Our meeting could indeed answer no + purpose, as it is entirely out of my power to return his partiality. Of + his character, temper, and manners, I know enough to be convinced, that + our union could tend only to make us both miserable. After what I have + seen, nothing can ever tempt me to marry from any of the common views of + interest or ambition.” + </p> + <p> + On this subject Belinda, though she declared her own sentiments with firm + sincerity, touched as slightly as she could, because she anxiously wished + to avoid all appearance of <i>braving</i> the opinions of an aunt to whom + she was under obligations. She was tempted to pass over in silence all + that part of Mrs. Stanhope’s letter which related to Clarence Hervey; but + upon reflection, she determined to conquer her repugnance to speak of him, + and to make perfect sincerity the steady rule of her conduct. She + therefore acknowledged to her aunt, that of all the persons she had + hitherto seen, this gentleman was the most agreeable to her; but at the + same time she assured her, that the refusal of Sir Philip Baddely was + totally independent of all thoughts of Mr. Hervey—that, before she + had received her aunt’s letter, circumstances had convinced her that Mr. + Hervey was attached to another woman. She concluded by saying, that she + had neither romantic hopes nor wishes, and that her affections were at her + own command. + </p> + <p> + Belinda received the following angry answer from Mrs. Stanhope:— + </p> + <p> + “Henceforward, Belinda, you may manage your own affairs as you think + proper; I shall never more interfere with my advice. Refuse whom you + please—go where you please—get what friends, and what + admirers, and what establishment you can—I have nothing more to do + with it—I will never more undertake the management of young people. + There’s your sister Tollemache has made a pretty return for all my + kindness! she is going to be parted from her husband, and basely throws + all the blame upon me. But ‘tis the same with all of you. There’s your + cousin Joddrell refused me a hundred guineas last week, though the + piano-forte and harp I bought for her before she was married stood me in + double that sum, and are now useless lumber on my hands; and she never + could have had Joddrell without them, as she knows as well as I do. As for + Mrs. Levit, she never writes to me, and takes no manner of notice of me. + But this is no matter, for her notice can be of no consequence now to any + body. Levit has run out every thing he had in the world!—All his + fine estates advertised in to-day’s paper—an execution in the House, + I’m told. I expect that she will have the assurance to come to me in her + distress: but she shall find my doors shut, I promise her. Your cousin + Valleton’s match has, through her own folly, turned out like all the rest. + She, her husband, and all his relations are at daggers-drawing; and + Valleton will die soon, and won’t leave her a farthing in his will, I + foresee, and all the fine Valleton estate goes to God knows whom! + </p> + <p> + “If she had taken my advice after marriage as before, it would have been + all her own at this instant. But the passions run away with people, and + they forget every thing—common sense, gratitude, and all—as + you do, Belinda. Clarence Hervey will never think of you, and I give you + up!—Now manage for yourself as you please, and as you can! I’ll have + nothing more to do with the affairs of young ladies who will take no + advice. + </p> + <p> + “SELINA STANHOPE. + </p> + <p> + “P. S. If you return directly to Lady Delacour’s, and marry Sir Philip + Baddely, I will forgive the past.” + </p> + <p> + The regret which Belinda felt at having grievously offended her aunt was + somewhat alleviated by the reflection that she had acted with integrity + and prudence. Thrown off her guard by anger, Mrs. Stanhope had + inadvertently furnished her niece with the best possible reasons against + following her advice with regard to Sir Philip Baddely, by stating that + her sister and cousins, who had married with mercenary views, had made + themselves miserable, and had shown their aunt neither gratitude nor + respect. + </p> + <p> + The tranquillity of Belinda’s mind was gradually restored by the society + that she enjoyed at Oakly-park. She found herself in the midst of a large + and cheerful family, with whose domestic happiness she could not forbear + to sympathize. There was an affectionate confidence, an unconstrained + gaiety in this house, which forcibly struck her, from its contrast with + what she had seen at Lady Delacour’s. She perceived that between Mr. + Percival and Lady Anne there was a union of interests, occupations, taste, + and affection. She was at first astonished by the openness with which they + talked of their affairs in her presence; that there were no family + secrets, nor any of those petty mysteries which arise from a discordance + of temper or struggle for power. In conversation, every person expressed + without constraint their wishes and opinions; and wherever these differed, + reason and the general good were the standards to which they appealed. The + elder and younger part of the family were not separated from each other; + even the youngest child in the house seemed to form part of the society, + to have some share and interest in the general occupations or amusements + The children were treated neither as slaves nor as playthings, but as + reasonable creatures; and the ease with which they were managed, and with + which they managed themselves, surprised Belinda; for she heard none of + that continual lecturing which goes forward in some houses, to the great + fatigue and misery of all the parties concerned, and of all the + spectators. Without force or any factitious excitements, the taste for + knowledge, and the habits of application, were induced by example, and + confirmed by sympathy. Mr. Percival was a man of science and literature, + and his daily pursuits and general conversation were in the happiest + manner instructive and interesting to his family. His knowledge of the + world, and his natural gaiety of disposition, rendered his conversation + not only useful, but in the highest degree amusing. From the merest + trifles he could lead to some scientific fact, some happy literary + allusion, or philosophical investigation. + </p> + <p> + Lady Anne Percival had, without any pedantry or ostentation, much accurate + knowledge, and a taste for literature, which made her the chosen companion + of her husband’s understanding, as well as of his heart. He was not + obliged to reserve his conversation for friends of his own sex, nor was he + forced to seclude himself in the pursuit of any branch of knowledge; the + partner of his warmest affections was also the partner of his most serious + occupations; and her sympathy and approbation, and the daily sense of her + success in the education of their children, inspired him with a degree of + happy social energy, unknown to the selfish solitary votaries of avarice + and ambition. + </p> + <p> + In this large and happy family there was a variety of pursuits. One of the + boys was fond of chemistry, another of gardening; one of the daughters had + a talent for painting, another for music; and all their acquirements and + accomplishments contributed to increase their mutual happiness, for there + was no envy or jealousy amongst them. + </p> + <p> + Those who unfortunately have never enjoyed domestic happiness, such as we + have just described, will perhaps suppose the picture to be visionary and + romantic; there are others—it is hoped many others—who will + feel that it is drawn from truth and real life. Tastes that have been + vitiated by the stimulus of dissipation might, perhaps, think these simple + pleasures insipid. + </p> + <p> + Every body must ultimately judge of what makes them happy, from the + comparison of their own feelings in different situations. Belinda was + convinced by this comparison, that domestic life was that which could + alone make her really and permanently happy. She missed none of the + pleasures, none of the gay company, to which she had been accustomed at + Lady Delacour’s. She was conscious, at the end of each day, that it had + been agreeably spent; yet there were no extraordinary exertions made to + entertain her; every thing seemed in its natural course, and so did her + mind. Where there was so much happiness, no want of what is called <i>pleasure</i> + was ever experienced. She had not been at Oakly-park a week before she + forgot that it was within a few miles of Harrowgate, and she never once + recollected her vicinity to this fashionable water-drinking place for a + month afterwards. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” some young ladies will exclaim. We hope others will feel + that it was perfectly natural. But to deal fairly with our readers, we + must not omit to mention a certain Mr. Vincent, who came to Oakly-park + during the first week of Belinda’s visit, and who stayed there during the + whole succeeding month of felicity. Mr. Vincent was a creole; he was about + two-and-twenty: his person and manners were striking and engaging; he was + tall, and remarkably handsome; he had large dark eyes, an aquiline nose, + fine hair, and a manly sunburnt complexion; his countenance was open and + friendly, and when he spoke upon any interesting subject, it lighted up, + and became full of fire and animation. He used much gesture in + conversation; he had not the common manners of young men who are, or who + aim at being thought, fashionable, but he was perfectly at ease in + company, and all that was uncommon about him appeared foreign. He had a + frank, ardent temper, incapable of art or dissimulation, and so + unsuspicious of all mankind, that he could scarcely believe falsehood + existed in the world, even after he had himself been its dupe. He was in + extreme astonishment at the detection of any species of baseness in a <i>gentleman</i>; + for he considered honour and generosity as belonging indefeasibly, if not + exclusively, to the privileged orders. His notions of virtue were + certainly aristocratic in the extreme, but his ambition was to entertain + such only as would best support and dignify an aristocracy. His pride was + magnanimous, not insolent; and his social prejudices were such as, in some + degree, to supply the place of the power and habit of reasoning, in which + he was totally deficient. One principle of philosophy he practically + possessed in perfection; he enjoyed the present, undisturbed by any + unavailing regret for the past, or troublesome solicitude about the + future. All the goods of life he tasted with epicurean zest; all the evils + he bore with stoical indifference. The mere pleasure of existence seemed + to keep him in perpetual good humour with himself and others; and his + never-failing flow of animal spirits exhilarated even the most phlegmatic. + To persons of a cold and reserved temper he sometimes appeared rather too + much of an egotist: for he talked with fluent enthusiasm of the excellent + qualities and beauties of whatever he loved, whether it were his dog, his + horse, or his country: but this was not the egotism of vanity; it was the + overflowing of an affectionate heart, confident of obtaining sympathy from + his fellow-creatures, because conscious of feeling it for all that + existed. + </p> + <p> + He was as grateful as he was generous; and though high-spirited and + impatient of restraint, he would submit with affectionate gentleness to + the voice of a friend, or listen with deference to the counsel of those in + whose superior judgment he had confidence. Gratitude, respect, and + affection, all conspired to give Mr. Percival the strongest power over his + soul. Mr. Percival had been a guardian and a father to him. His own + father, an opulent merchant, on his death-bed requested that his son, who + was then about eighteen, might be immediately sent to England for the + advantages of a European education. Mr. Percival, who had a regard for the + father, arising from circumstances which it is not here necessary to + explain, accepted the charge of young Vincent, and managed so well, that + his ward when he arrived at the age of twenty-one did not feel relieved + from any restraint. On the contrary, his attachment to his guardian + increased from that period, when the laws gave him full command over his + fortune and his actions. Mr. Vincent had been at Harrowgate for some time + before Mr. Percival came into the country; but as soon as he heard of Mr. + Percival’s arrival, he left half finished a game of billiards, of which, + by-the-bye, he was extremely fond, to pay his respects at Oakly-park. At + the first sight of Belinda, he did not seem much struck with her + appearance; perhaps, from his thinking that there was too little languor + in her eyes, and too much colour in her cheeks; he confessed that she was + graceful, but her motions were not quite slow enough to please him. + </p> + <p> + It is somewhat singular that Lady Delacour’s faithful friend, Harriot + Freke, should be the cause of Mr. Vincent’s first fixing his favourable + attention on Miss Portman. + </p> + <p> + He had a black servant of the name of Juba, who was extremely attached to + him: he had known Juba from a boy, and had brought him over with him when + he first came to England, because the poor fellow begged so earnestly to + go with young massa. Juba had lived with him ever since, and accompanied + him wherever he went. Whilst he was at Harrowgate, Mr. Vincent lodged in + the same house with Mrs. Freke. Some dispute arose between their servants, + about the right to a coach-house, which each party claimed as exclusively + their own. The master of the house was appealed to by Juba, who sturdily + maintained his massa’s right; he established it, and rolled his massa’s + curricle into the coach-house in triumph. Mrs. Freke, who heard and saw + the whole transaction from her window, said, or swore, that she would make + Juba repent of what she called his insolence. The threat was loud enough + to reach his ears, and he looked up in astonishment to hear such a voice + from a woman; but an instant afterwards he began to sing very gaily, as he + jumped into the curricle to turn the cushions, and then danced himself up + and down by the springs, as if rejoicing in his victory. A second and a + third time Mrs. Freke repeated her threat, confirming it by an oath, and + then violently shut down the window and disappeared. Mr. Vincent, to whom + Juba, with much simplicity, expressed his aversion of the <i>man-woman</i> + who lived in the house with them, laughed at the odd manner in which the + black imitated her voice and gesture, but thought no more of the matter. + Some time afterward, however, Juba’s spirits forsook him; he was never + heard to sing or to whistle, he scarcely ever spoke even to his master, + who was much surprised by this sudden change from gaiety and loquacity to + melancholy taciturnity. Nothing could draw from the poor fellow any + explanation of the cause of this alteration in his humour; and though he + seemed excessively grateful for the concern which his master showed about + his health, no kindness or amusement could restore him to his wonted + cheerfulness. Mr. Vincent knew that he was passionately fond of music; and + having heard him once express a wish for a tambourine, he gave him one: + but Juba never played upon it, and his spirits seemed every day to grow + worse and worse. This melancholy lasted during the whole time that he + remained at Harrowgate, but from the first day of his arrival at + Oakly-park he began to mend: after he had been there a week, he was heard + to sing, and whistle, and talk as he used to do, and his master + congratulated him upon his recovery. One evening his master asked him to + go back to Harrowgate for his tambourine, as little Charles Percival + wished to hear him play upon it. This simple request had a wonderful + effect upon poor Juba; he began to tremble from head to foot, his eyes + became fixed, and he stood motionless; after some time, he suddenly + clasped his hands, fell upon his knees, and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, massa, Juba die! If Juba go back, Juba die!” and he wiped away the + drops that stood upon his forehead. “But me will go, if massa bid—me + will die!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent began to imagine that the poor fellow was out of his senses. + He assured him, with the greatest kindness, that he would almost as soon + hazard his own life as that of such a faithful, affectionate servant; but + he pressed him to explain what possible danger he dreaded from returning + to Harrowgate. Juba was silent, as if afraid to speak—“Don’t fear to + speak to me,” said Mr. Vincent; “I will defend you: if anybody have + injured you, or if you dread that any body will injure you, trust to me; I + will protect you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, massa, you no can! Me die, if me go back! Me no can say word more;” + and he put his finger upon his lips, and shook his head. Mr. Vincent knew + that Juba was excessively superstitious; and convinced, that, if his mind + were not already deranged, it would certainly become so, were any secret + terror thus to prey upon his imagination, he assumed a very grave + countenance, and assured him, that he should be extremely displeased if he + persisted in this foolish and obstinate silence. Overcome by this, Juba + burst into tears, and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Den me will tell all.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation passed before Miss Portman and Charles Percival, who + were walking in the park with Mr. Vincent, at the time he met Juba and + asked him to go for the tambourine. When he came to the words, “Me will + tell all,” he made a sign that he wished to tell it to his master alone. + Belinda and the little boy walked on, to leave him at liberty to speak; + and then, though with a sort of reluctant horror, he told that the figure + of an old woman, all in flames, had appeared to him in his bedchamber at + Harrowgate every night, and that he was sure she was one of the + obeah-women of his own country, who had pursued him to Europe to revenge + his having once, when he was a child, trampled upon an egg-shell that + contained some of her poisons. The extreme absurdity of this story made + Mr. Vincent burst out a laughing; but his humanity the next instant made + him serious; for the poor victim of superstitious terror, after having + revealed what, according to the belief of his country, it is death to + mention, fell senseless on the ground. When he came to himself, he calmly + said, that he knew he must now die, for that the obeah-women never forgave + those that talked of them or their secrets; and, with a deep groan, he + added, that he wished he might die before night, that he might not see <i>her</i> + again. It was in vain to attempt to reason him out of the idea that he had + actually seen this apparition: his account of it was, that it first + appeared to him in the coach-house one night, when he went thither in the + dark—that he never afterwards went to the coach-house in the dark—but + that the same figure of an old woman, all in flames, appeared at the foot + of his bed every night whilst he stayed at Harrowgate; and that he was + then persuaded she would never let him escape from her power till she had + killed him. That since he had left Harrowgate, however, she had not + tormented him, for he had never seen her, and he was in hopes that she had + forgiven him; but that now he was sure of her vengeance for having spoken + of her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent knew the astonishing power which the belief in this species of + sorcery<a href="#linknote-7" name="linknoteref-7" id="linknoteref-7"><small>7</small></a> + has over the minds of the Jamaica negroes; they pine and actually die away + from the moment they fancy themselves under the malignant influence of + these witches. He almost gave poor Juba over for lost. The first person + that he happened to meet after his conversation was Belinda, to whom he + eagerly related it, because he had observed, that she had listened with + much attention and sympathy to the beginning of the poor fellow’s story. + The moment that she heard of the flaming apparition, she recollected + having seen a head drawn in phosphorus, which one of the children had + exhibited for her amusement, and it occurred to her that, perhaps, some + imprudent or ill-natured person might have terrified the ignorant negro by + similar means. When she mentioned this to Mr. Vincent, he recollected the + threat that had been thrown out by Mrs. Freke, the day that Juba had taken + possession of the disputed coach-house; and from the character of this + lady, Belinda judged that she would be likely to play such a trick, and to + call it, as usual, fun or frolic. Miss Portman suggested that one of the + children should show him the phosphorus, and should draw some ludicrous + figure with it in his presence. This was done, and it had the effect that + she expected. Juba, familiarized by degrees with the object of his secret + horror, and convinced that no obeah-woman was exercising over him her + sorceries, recovered his health and spirits. His gratitude to Miss + Portman, who was the immediate cause of his cure, was as simple and + touching as it was lively and sincere. This was the circumstance which + first turned Mr. Vincent’s attention towards Belinda. Upon examining the + room in which the negro used to sleep at Harrowgate, the strong smell of + phosphorus was perceived, and part of the paper was burnt on the very spot + where he had always seen the figure, so that he was now perfectly + convinced that this trick had been purposely played to frighten him, in + revenge for his having kept possession of the coach-house. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Freke, when she found herself detected, gloried in the jest, and told + the story as a good joke wherever she went—triumphing in the notion, + that it was she who had driven both <i>master and man</i> from Harrowgate. + </p> + <p> + The exploit was, however, by no means agreeable in its consequences to her + friend Mrs. Luttridge, who was now at Harrowgate. For reasons of her own, + she was very anxious to fix Mr. Vincent in her society, and she was much + provoked by Mrs. Freke’s conduct. The ladies came to high words upon the + occasion, and an irreparable breach would have ensued had not Mrs. Freke, + in the midst of her rage, recollected Mrs. Luttridge’s electioneering + interest: and suddenly changing her tone, she declared that “she was + really sorry to have driven Mr. Vincent from Harrowgate; that her only + intention was to get rid of his black; she would lay any wager, that, with + Mrs. Luttridge’s assistance, they could soon get the gentleman back + again;” and she proposed, as a certain method of fixing Mr. Vincent in + Mrs. Luttridge’s society, to invite Belinda to Harrowgate. + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure,” said Mrs. Freke, “that she must by this time be + cursedly tired of her visit to those stupid good people at Oakly-park, and + never woman <i>wanted</i> an excuse to do any thing she liked: so trust to + her own ingenuity to make some decent apology to the Percivals for running + away from them. As to Vincent, you may be sure Belinda Portman is his only + inducement for staying with that precious family-party; and if we have her + we have him. Now we can be sure of her, for she has just quarrelled with + our dear Lady Delacour. I had the whole story from my maid, who had it + from Champfort. Lady Delacour and she are at daggers-drawing, and it will + be delicious to her to hear her ladyship handsomely abused. We are the + declared enemies of her enemy, so we must be her friends. Nothing unites + folk so quickly and so solidly, as hatred of some common foe.” + </p> + <p> + This argument could not fail to convince Mrs. Luttridge, and the next day + Mrs. Freke commenced her operations. She drove in her <i>unicorn</i> to + Oakly-park to pay Miss Portman a visit. She had no acquaintance either + with Mr. Percival or Lady Anne, and she had always treated Belinda, when + she met her in town, rather cavalierly, as an humble companion of Lady + Delacour. But it cost Mrs. Freke nothing to change her tone: she was one + of those ladies who can remember or forget people, be perfectly familiar + or strangely rude, just as it suits the convenience, fashion, or humour of + the minute. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — RIGHTS OF WOMAN. + </h2> + <p> + Belinda was alone, and reading, when Mrs. Freke dashed into the room. + </p> + <p> + “How do, dear creature?” cried she, stepping up to her, and shaking hands + with her boisterously—“How do?—Glad to see you, faith!—Been + long here?—Tremendously hot to-day!” + </p> + <p> + She flung herself upon the sofa beside Belinda, threw her hat upon the + table, and then continued speaking. + </p> + <p> + “And how d’ye go on here, poor child?—Gad! I’m glad you’re alone—expected + to find you encompassed by a whole host of the righteous. Give me credit + for my courage in coming to deliver you out of their hands. Luttridge and + I had such compassion upon you, when we heard you were close prisoner + here! I swore to set the distressed damsel free, in spite of all the + dragons in Christendom; so let me carry you off in triumph in my unicorn, + and leave these good people to stare when they come home from their sober + walk, and find you gone. There’s nothing I like so much as to make good + people stare—I hope you’re of my way o’ thinking—-you don’t + look as if you were, though; but I never mind young ladies’ looks—always + give the lie to their thoughts. Now we talk o’ looks—never saw you + look so well in my life—as handsome as an angel! And so much the + better for me. Do you know, I’ve a bet of twenty guineas on your head—on + your face, I mean. There’s a young bride at Harrowgate, Lady H——, + they’re all mad about her; the men swear she’s the handsomest woman in + England, and I swear I know one ten times as handsome. They’ve dared me to + make good my word, and I’ve pledged myself to produce my beauty at the + next ball, and to pit her against their belle for any money. Most votes + carry it. I’m willing to double my bet since I’ve seen you again. Come, + had not we best be off? Now don’t refuse me and make speeches—you + know that’s all nonsense—I’ll take all the blame upon myself.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, who had not been suffered to utter a word whilst Mrs. Freke ran + on in this strange manner, looked in unfeigned astonishment; but when she + found herself seized and dragged towards the door, she drew back with a + degree of gentle firmness that astonished Mrs. Freke. With a smiling + countenance, but a steady tone, she said, “that she was sorry Mrs. Freke’s + knight-errantry should not be exerted in a better cause, for that she was + neither a prisoner, nor a distressed damsel.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you make me lose my bet?” cried Mrs. Freke “Oh, at all events, + you must come to the ball!—I’m down for it. But I’ll not press it + now, because you’re frightened out of your poor little wits, I see, at the + bare thoughts of doing any thing considered out of rule by these good + people. Well, well! it shall be managed for you—leave that to me: + I’m used to managing for cowards. Pray tell me—you and Lady Delacour + are off, I understand?—Give ye joy!—She and I were once great + friends; that is to say, I had over her ‘that power which strong minds + have over weak ones,’ but she was too weak for me—one of those + people that have neither courage to be good, nor to be bad.” + </p> + <p> + “The courage to be bad,” said Belinda, “I believe, indeed, she does not + possess.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Freke stared. “Why, I heard you had quarrelled with her!” + </p> + <p> + “If I had,” said Belinda, “I hope that I should still do justice to her + merits. It is said that people are apt to suffer more by their friends + than their enemies. I hope that will never be the case with Lady Delacour, + as I confess that I have been one of her friends.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Gad, I like your spirit—you don’t want courage, I see, to fight + even for your enemies. You are just the kind of girl I admire. I see you + have been prejudiced against me by Lady Delacour; but whatever stories she + may have trumped up, the truth of the matter is this, there’s no living + with her, she’s so jealous—so ridiculously jealous—of that + lord of hers, for whom all the time she has the impudence to pretend not + to care more than I do for the sole of my boot,” said Mrs. Freke, striking + it, with her whip; “but she hasn’t the courage to give him tit for tat: + now this is what I call weakness. Pray, how do she and Clarence Hervey go + on together?—Are they out o’ the hornbook of platonics yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hervey was not in town when I left it,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Was not he?—Ho! ho!—He’s off then!—Ay, so I prophesied; + she’s not the thing for him: he has some strength of mind—some soul—above + vulgar prejudices; so must a woman be to hold him. He was caught at first + by her grace and beauty, and that sort of stuff; but I knew it could not + last—knew she’d dilly dally with Clary, till he would turn upon his + heel and leave her there.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy that you are entirely mistaken both with respect to Mr. Hervey + and Lady Delacour,” Belinda very seriously began to say. But Mrs. Freke + interrupted her, and ran on; “No! no! no! I’m not mistaken; Clarence has + found her out. She’s a <i>very</i> woman—<i>that</i> he could + forgive her, and so could I; but she’s a <i>mere</i> woman—and that + he can’t forgive—no more can I.” + </p> + <p> + There was a kind of drollery about Mrs. Freke, which, with some people, + made the odd things she said pass for wit. Humour she really possessed; + and when she chose it, she could be diverting to those who like buffoonery + in women. She had set her heart upon winning Belinda over to her party. + She began by flattery of her beauty; but as she saw that this had no + effect, she next tried what could be done by insinuating that she had a + high opinion of her understanding, by talking to her as an esprit fort. + </p> + <p> + “For my part,” said she, “I own I should like a strong devil better than a + weak angel.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget,” said Belinda, “that it is not Milton, but Satan, who says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Fallen spirit, to be weak is to be miserable.’” + </pre> + <p> + “You read, I see!—I did not know you were a reading girl. So was I + once; but I never read now. Books only spoil the originality of genius: + very well for those who can’t think for themselves—but when one has + made up one’s opinion, there is no use in reading.” + </p> + <p> + “But to make them up,” replied Belinda, “may it not be useful?” + </p> + <p> + “Of no use upon earth to minds of a certain class. You, who can think for + yourself, should never read.” + </p> + <p> + “But I read that I may think for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Only ruin your understanding, trust me. Books are full of trash—nonsense, + conversation is worth all the books in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And is there never any nonsense in conversation?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you here?” continued Mrs. Freke, who did not choose to attend + to this question; exclaiming, as she reviewed each of the books on the + table in their turns, in the summary language of presumptuous ignorance, + “Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments—milk and water! Moore’s Travels—hasty + pudding! La Bruyère—nettle porridge! This is what you were at when I + came in, was it not?” said she, taking up a book<a href="#linknote-8" + name="linknoteref-8" id="linknoteref-8"><small>8</small></a> in which she + saw Belinda’s mark: “Against Inconsistency in our Expectations. Poor + thing! who bored you with this task?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Percival recommended it to me, as one of the best essays in the + English language.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! they seem to have put you in a course of the bitters—a + course of the woods might do your business better. Do you ever hunt?—Let + me take you out with me some morning—you’d be quite an angel on + horseback; or let me drive you out some day in my unicorn.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda declined this invitation, and Mrs. Freke strode away to the window + to conceal her mortification, threw up the sash, and called out to her + groom, “Walk those horses about, blockhead!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival and Mr. Vincent at this instant came into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, fellow! well met!” cried Mrs. Freke, stretching out her hand to Mr. + Vincent. + </p> + <p> + It has been remarked, that an antipathy subsists between creatures, who, + without being the same, have yet a strong external resemblance. Mr. + Percival saw this instinct rising in Mr. Vincent, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, fellow! well met! I say. Shake hands and be friends, man! Though + I’m not in the habit of making apologies, if it will be any satisfaction + to you, I beg your pardon for frightening your poor devil of a black.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning towards Mr. Percival, she measured him with her eye, as a + person whom she longed to attack. She thought, that if Belinda’s opinion + of the understanding of <i>these Percivals</i> could be lowered, she + should rise in her esteem: accordingly, she determined to draw Mr. + Percival into an argument. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been talking treason, I believe, to Miss Portman,” cried she; “for + I’ve been opposing some of your opinions, Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “If you opposed them all, madam,” said Mr. Percival, “I should not think + it treason.” + </p> + <p> + “Vastly polite!—But I think all our politeness hypocrisy: what d’ye + say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that best, madam!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll go a step farther; for I’m determined you shall contradict me: + I think all virtue is hypocrisy.” + </p> + <p> + “I need not contradict you, madam,” said Mr. Percival, “for the terms + which you make use of contradict themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my system,” pursued Mrs. Freke, “that shame is always the cause of + the vices of women.” + </p> + <p> + “It is sometimes the effect,” said Mr. Percival; “and, as cause and effect + are reciprocal, perhaps you may, in some instances, be right.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I hate qualifying arguers—plump assertion or plump denial for + me: you sha’n’t get off so. I say shame is the cause of all women’s + vices.” + </p> + <p> + “False shame, I suppose you mean?” said Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “Mere play upon words! All shame is false shame—we should be a great + deal better without it. What say you, Miss Portman?—Silent, hey? + Silence that speaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman’s blushes,” said Mr. Vincent, “speak <i>for her</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Against</i> her,” said Mrs. Freke: “women blush because they + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “And you would have them understand without blushing?” said Mr. Percival. + “I grant you that nothing can be more different than innocence and + ignorance. Female delicacy—” + </p> + <p> + “This is just the way you men spoil women,” cried Mrs. Freke, “by talking + to them of the <i>delicacy of their sex</i>, and such stuff. This <i>delicacy</i> + enslaves the pretty delicate dears.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it enslaves us,” said Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “I hate slavery! Vive la liberté!” cried Mrs. Freke. “I’m a champion for + the Rights of Woman.” + </p> + <p> + “I am an advocate for their happiness,” said Mr. Percival, “and for their + delicacy, as I think it conduces to their happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m an enemy to their delicacy, as I am sure it conduces to their + misery.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak from experience?” said Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “No, from observation. Your most delicate women are always the greatest + hypocrites; and, in my opinion, no hypocrite can or ought to be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have not proved the hypocrisy,” said Belinda. “Delicacy is not, I + hope, an indisputable proof of it? If you mean <i>false</i> delicacy——” + </p> + <p> + “To cut the matter short at once,” cried Mrs. Freke, “why, when a woman + likes a man, does not she go and tell him so honestly?” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, surprised by this question from a woman, was too much abashed + instantly to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Because she’s a hypocrite. That is and must be the answer.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mr. Percival; “because, if she be a woman of sense, she knows + that by such a step she would disgust the object of her affection.” + </p> + <p> + “Cunning!—cunning!—cunning!—the arms of the weakest.” + </p> + <p> + “Prudence! prudence!—the arms of the strongest. Taking the best + means to secure our own happiness without injuring that of others is the + best proof of sense and strength of mind, whether in man or woman. + Fortunately for society, the same conduct in ladies which best secures + their happiness most increases ours.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Freke beat the devil’s tattoo for some moments, and then exclaimed, + “You may say what you will, but the present system of society is radically + wrong:—whatever is, is wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “How would you improve the state of society?” asked Mr. Percival, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not tinker-general to the world,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad of it,” said Mr. Percival; “for I have heard that tinkers often + spoil more than they mend.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you want to know,” said Mrs. Freke, “what I would do to improve + the world, I’ll tell you: I’d have both sexes call things by their right + names.” + </p> + <p> + “This would doubtless be a great improvement,” said Mr. Percival; “but you + would not overturn society to attain it, would you? Should we find things + much improved by tearing away what has been called the decent drapery of + life?” + </p> + <p> + “Drapery, if you ask me my opinion,” cried Mrs. Freke, “drapery, whether + wet or dry, is the most confoundedly indecent thing in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “That depends on <i>public</i> opinion, I allow,” said Mr. Percival. “The + Lacedaemonian ladies, who were veiled only by public opinion, were better + covered from profane eyes than some English ladies are in wet drapery.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of the Lacedaemonian ladies: I took my leave of them when + I was a schoolboy—girl, I should say. But pray, what o’clock is it + by you? I’ve sat till I’m cramped all over,” cried Mrs. Freke, getting up + and stretching herself so violently that some part of her habiliments gave + way. “Honi soit qui mal y pense!” said she, bursting into a horse laugh. + </p> + <p> + Without sharing in any degree that confusion which Belinda felt for her, + she strode out of the room, saying, “Miss Portman, you understand these + things better than I do; come and set me to rights.” + </p> + <p> + When she was in Belinda’s room, she threw herself into an arm-chair, and + laughed immoderately. + </p> + <p> + “How I have trimmed Percival this morning!” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you think so,” said Belinda; “for I really was afraid he had + been too severe upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “I only wish,” continued Mrs. Freke, “I only wish his wife had been by. + Why the devil did not she make her appearance? I suppose the prude was + afraid of my demolishing and unrigging her.” + </p> + <p> + “There seems to have been more danger of that for you than for any body + else,” said Belinda, as she assisted to set Mrs. Freke’s rigging, as she + called it, to rights. + </p> + <p> + “I do of all things delight in hauling good people’s opinions out of their + musty drawers, and seeing how they look when they’re all pulled to pieces + before their faces! Pray, are those Lady Anne’s drawers or yours?” said + Mrs. Freke, pointing to a chest of drawers. + </p> + <p> + “Mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry for it; for if they were hers, to punish her for <i>shirking</i> + me, by the Lord, I’d have every rag she has in the world out in the middle + of the floor in ten minutes! You don’t know me—I’m a terrible person + when provoked—stop at nothing!” + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Freke saw no other chance left of gaining her point with Belinda, + she tried what intimidating her would do. + </p> + <p> + “I stop at nothing,” repeated she, fixing her eyes upon Miss Portman, to + fascinate her by terror. “Friend or foe! peace or war! Take your choice. + Come to the ball at Harrowgate, I win my bet, and I’m your sworn friend. + Stay away, I lose my bet, and am your sworn enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not in my power, madam,” said Belinda, calmly, “to comply with your + request.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ll take the consequences,” cried Mrs. Freke. She rushed past + her, hurried down stairs, and called out, “Bid my blockhead bring my + unicorn.” + </p> + <p> + She, her unicorn, and her blockhead, were out of sight in a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + Good may be drawn from evil. Mrs. Freke’s conversation, though at the time + it confounded Belinda, roused her, upon reflection, to examine by her + reason the habits and principles which guided her conduct. She had a + general feeling that they were right and necessary; but now, with the + assistance of Lady Anne and Mr. Percival, she established in her own + understanding the exact boundaries between right and wrong upon many + subjects. She felt a species of satisfaction and security, from seeing the + demonstration of those axioms of morality, in which she had previously + acquiesced. Reasoning gradually became as agreeable to her as wit; nor was + her taste for wit diminished, it was only refined by this process. She now + compared and judged of the value of the different species of this + brilliant talent. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Freke’s wit, thought she, is like a noisy squib, the momentary terror + of passengers; Lady Delacour’s like an elegant firework, which we crowd to + see, and cannot forbear to applaud; but Lady Anne Percival’s wit is like + the refulgent moon, we + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Love the mild rays, and bless the useful light.” + </pre> + <p> + “Miss Portman,” said Mr. Percival, “are not you afraid of making an enemy + of Mrs. Freke, by declining her invitation to Harrowgate?” + </p> + <p> + “I think her friendship more to be dreaded than her enmity,” replied + Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not to be terrified by an obeah-woman?” said Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least, unless she were to come in the shape of a false + friend,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Till lately,” said Mr. Vincent, “I was deceived in the character of Mrs. + Freke. I thought her a dashing, free-spoken, free-hearted sort of + eccentric person, who would make a staunch friend and a jolly companion. + As a mistress, or a wife, no man of any taste could think of her. Compare + that woman now with one of our Creole ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “But why with a creole?” said Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of contrast, in the first place: our creole women are all + softness, grace, delicacy——” + </p> + <p> + “And indolence,” said Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “Their indolence is but a slight, and, in my judgment, an amiable defect; + it keeps them out of mischief, and it attaches them to domestic life. The + activity of a Mrs. Freke would never excite their emulation; and so much + the better.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better, no doubt,” said Mr. Percival. “But is there no other + species of activity that might excite their ambition with propriety? + Without diminishing their grace, softness, or delicacy, might not they + cultivate their minds? Do you think ignorance, as well as indolence, an + amiable defect, essential to the female character?” + </p> + <p> + “Not essential. You do not, I hope, imagine that I am so much prejudiced + in favour of my countrywomen, that I can neither see nor feel the + superiority in <i>some instances</i> of European cultivation? I speak only + in general.” + </p> + <p> + “And in general,” said Lady Anne Percival, “does Mr. Vincent wish to + confine our sex to the bliss of ignorance?” + </p> + <p> + “If it be bliss,” said Mr. Vincent, “what reason would they have for + complaint?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>If</i>,” said Belinda; “but that is a question which you have not yet + decided.” + </p> + <p> + “And how can we decide it?” said Mr. Vincent, “The taste and feelings of + individuals must be the arbiters of their happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “You leave reason quite out of the question, then,” said Mr. Percival, + “and refer the whole to taste and feeling? So that if the most ignorant + person in the world assert that he is happier than you are, you are bound + to believe him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should not I?” said Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Mr. Percival, “though he can judge of his own pleasures, + he cannot judge of yours; his are common to both, but yours are unknown to + him. Would you, at this instant, change places with that ploughman yonder, + who is whistling as he goes for want of thought? or, would you choose to + go a step higher in the bliss of ignorance, and turn savage?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent laughed, and protested that he should be very unwilling to + give up his title to civilized society; and that, instead of wishing to + have less knowledge, he regretted that he had not more. “I am sensible,” + said he, “that I have many prejudices;—Miss Portman has made me + ashamed of some of them.” + </p> + <p> + There was a degree of candour in Mr. Vincent’s manner and conversation, + which interested every body in his favour; Belinda amongst the rest. She + was perfectly at ease in Mr. Vincent’s company, because she considered him + as a person who wished for her friendship, without having any design to + engage her affections. From several hints that dropped from him, from Mr. + Percival, and from Lady Anne, she was persuaded that he was attached to + some creole lady; and all that he said in favour of the elegant softness + and delicacy of his countrywomen confirmed this opinion. + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman was not one of those young ladies who fancy that every + gentleman who converses freely with them will inevitably fall a victim to + the power of their charms, and will see in every man a lover, or nothing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — A DECLARATION. + </h2> + <p> + “I’ve found it!—I’ve found it, mamma!” cried little Charles + Percival, running eagerly into the room with a plant in his hand. “Will + you send this in your letter to Helena Delacour, and tell her that is the + thing that gold fishes are so fond of? And tell her that it is called + lemna, and that it may be found in any ditch or pool.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can she find ditches and pools in Grosvenor-square, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot that. Then will you tell her, mamma, that I will send her a + great quantity?” + </p> + <p> + “How, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, mamma, yet—but I will find out some way.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it not be as well, my dear,” said his mother, smiling, “to consider + how you can perform your promises before you make them?” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman,” said Mr. Vincent, “never makes a promise that he cannot + perform.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that very well,” said the boy, proudly: “Miss Portman, who is very + good-natured, will, I am sure, be so good, when she goes back to Lady + Delacour, as to carry food for the gold fishes to Helena—you see + that I have found out a way to keep my promise.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m afraid not,” said Belinda; “for I am not going back to Lady + Delacour’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am very glad of it!” said the boy, dropping the weed, and clapping + his hands joyfully; “for then I hope you will always stay here, don’t you, + mamma?—don’t <i>you</i>, Mr. Vincent? Oh, <i>you</i> do, I am sure, + for I heard you say so to papa the other day! But what makes you grow so + red?” + </p> + <p> + His mother took him by the hand, as he was going to repeat the question, + and leading him out of the room, desired him to show her the place where + he found the food for the gold fishes. + </p> + <p> + Belinda, to Mr. Vincent’s great relief, seemed not to take any notice of + the child’s question, nor to have any sympathy in his curiosity; she was + intently copying Westall’s sketch of Lady Anne Percival and her family, + and she had been roused, by the first mention of Helena Delacour’s name, + to many painful and some pleasing recollections. “What a charming woman, + and what a charming family!” said Mr. Vincent, as he looked at the + drawing; “and how much more interesting is this picture of domestic + happiness than all the pictures of shepherds and shepherdesses, and gods + and goddesses, that ever were drawn!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Belinda, “and how much more interesting this picture is to us, + from our knowing that it is not a fancy-piece; that the happiness is real, + not imaginary: that this is the natural expression of affection in the + countenance of the mother; and that these children, who crowd round her, + are what they seem to be—the pride and pleasure of her life!” + </p> + <p> + “There cannot,” exclaimed Mr. Vincent, with enthusiasm, “be a more + delightful picture! Oh, Miss Portman, is it possible that you should not + feel what you can paint so well?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, sir,” said Belinda, “that you should suspect me of such + wretched hypocrisy, as to affect to admire what I am incapable of + feeling?” + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand—you totally misunderstand me. Hypocrisy! No; + there is not a woman upon earth whom I believe to be so far above all + hypocrisy, all affectation. But I imagined—I feared—” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke these last words he was in some confusion, and hastily turned + over the prints in a portfolio which lay upon the table. Belinda’s eye was + caught by an engraving of Lady Delacour in the character of the comic + muse. Mr. Vincent did not know the intimacy that had subsisted between her + ladyship and Miss Portman—she sighed from the recollection of + Clarence Hervey, and of all that had passed at the masquerade. + </p> + <p> + “What a contrast!” said Mr. Vincent, placing the print of Lady Delacour + beside the picture of Lady Anne Percival. “What a contrast! Compare their + pictures—compare their characters—compare—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” interrupted Belinda; “Lady Delacour was once my friend, and I + do not like to make a comparison so much to her disadvantage. I have never + seen any woman who would not suffer by a comparison with Lady Anne + Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been more fortunate, I <i>have</i> seen one—one equally + worthy of esteem—admiration—love.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent’s voice faltered in pronouncing the word love; yet Belinda, + prepossessed by the idea that he was attached to some creole lady, simply + answered, without looking up from her drawing, “You are indeed very + fortunate—peculiarly fortunate. Are the West-Indian ladies——” + </p> + <p> + “West-Indian ladies!” interrupted Mr. Vincent. “Surely, Miss Portman + cannot imagine that I am at this instant thinking of any West-Indian + lady!” Belinda looked up with an air of surprise. “Charming Miss Portman,” + continued he, “I have learnt to admire <i>European beauty, European + excellence</i>! I have acquired new ideas of the female character—ideas—feelings + that must henceforward render me exquisitely happy or exquisitely + miserable.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman had been too often called “<i>charming</i>” to be much + startled or delighted by the sound: the word would have passed by + unnoticed, but there was something so impassioned in Mr. Vincent’s manner, + that she could no longer mistake it for common gallantry, and she was in + evident confusion. Now for the first time the idea of Mr. Vincent as a + lover came into her mind: the next instant she accused herself of vanity, + and dreaded that he should read her thoughts. “Exquisitely miserable!” + said she, in a tone of raillery: “I should not suppose, from what I have + seen of Mr. Vincent, that any thing could make him exquisitely miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not know my character—you do not know my heart: it is + in <i>your</i> power to make me exquisitely miserable. Mine is not the + cold, hackneyed phrase of gallantry, but the fervid language of passion,” + cried he, seizing her hand. + </p> + <p> + At this instant one of the children came in with some flowers to Belinda; + and, glad of the interruption, she hastily put up her drawings and left + the room, observing that she should scarcely have time to dress before + dinner. However, as soon as she found herself alone, she forgot how late + it was; and though she sat down before the glass to dress, she made no + progress in the business, but continued for some time motionless, + endeavouring to recollect and to understand all that had passed. The + result of her reflections was the conviction that her partiality for + Clarence Hervey was greater than she ever had till this moment suspected. + “I have told my aunt Stanhope,” thought she, “that the idea of Mr. Hervey + had no influence in my refusal of Sir Philip Baddely; I have said that my + affections are entirely at my own command: then why do I feel this alarm + at the discovery of Mr. Vincent’s views? Why do I compare him with one + whom I thought I had forgotten?—And yet how are we to judge of + character? How can we form any estimate of what is amiable, of what will + make us happy or miserable, but by comparison? Am I to blame for + perceiving superiority? Am I to blame if one person be more agreeable, or + seem to be more agreeable, than another? Am I to blame if I cannot love + Mr. Vincent?” + </p> + <p> + Before Belinda had answered these questions to her satisfaction, the + dinner-bell rang. There happened to dine this day at Mr. Percival’s a + gentleman who had just arrived from Lisbon, and the conversation turned + upon the sailors’ practice of stilling the waves over the bar of Lisbon by + throwing oil upon the water. Charles Percival’s curiosity was excited by + this conversation, and he wished to see the experiment. In the evening his + father indulged his wishes. The children were delighted at the sight, and + little Charles insisted upon Belinda’s following him to a particular spot, + where he was well convinced that she could see better than any where else + in the world. “Take care,” cried Lady Anne, “or you will lead your friend + into the river, Charles.” The boy paused, and soon afterwards asked his + father several questions about swimming and drowning, and bringing people + to life after they had been drowned. “Don’t you remember, papa,” said he, + “<i>that</i> Mr. Hervey, who was almost drowned in the Serpentine river in + London?”—Belinda coloured at hearing unexpectedly the name of the + person of whom she was at that instant thinking, and the child continued—“I + liked that Mr. Hervey very much—I liked him from the first day I saw + him. What a number of entertaining things he told us at dinner! We used to + call him the good-natured gentleman: I like him very much—I wish he + was here this minute. Did you ever see him, Miss Portman? Oh, yes, you + must have seen him; for it was he who carried Helena’s gold fishes to her + mother, and he used often to be at Lady Delacour’s—was not he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear, often.” + </p> + <p> + “And did not you like him very much?”—This simple question threw + Belinda into inexpressible confusion: but fortunately the crimson on her + face was seen only by Lady Anne Percival. To Belinda’s great satisfaction, + Mr. Vincent forbore this evening any attempt to renew the conversation of + the morning; he endeavoured to mix, with his usual animation and gaiety, + in the family society; and her embarrassment was much lessened when she + heard the next day, at breakfast, that he was gone to Harrowgate. Lady + Anne Percival took notice that she was this morning unusually sprightly. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast, as they were passing through the hall to take a walk in + the park, one of the little boys stopped to look at a musical instrument + which hung up against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “What is this, mamma?—It is not a guitar, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, it is called a banjore; it is an African instrument, of + which the negroes are particularly fond. Mr. Vincent mentioned it the + other day to Miss Portman, and I believe she expressed some curiosity to + see one. Juba went to work immediately to make a banjore, I find. Poor + fellow! I dare say that he was very sorry to go to Harrowgate, and to + leave his African guitar half finished; especially as it was intended for + an offering to Miss Portman. He is the most grateful, affectionate + creature I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “But why, mamma,” said Charles Percival, “is Mr. Vincent gone away? I am + sorry he is gone; I hope he will soon come back. In the mean time, I must + run and water my carnations.” + </p> + <p> + “His sorrow for his friend Mr. Vincent’s departure does not seem to affect + his spirits much,” said Lady Anne. “People who expect sentiment from + children of six years old will be disappointed, and will probably teach + them affectation. Surely it is much better to let their natural affections + have time to expand. If we tear the rosebud open we spoil the flower.” + Belinda smiled at this parable of the rosebud, which, she said, might be + applied to men and women, as well as to children. + </p> + <p> + “And yet, upon reflection,” said Lady Anne, “the heart has nothing in + common with a rosebud. Nonsensical allusions pass off very prettily in + conversation. I mean, when we converse with partial friends: but we should + reason ill, and conduct ourselves worse, if we were to trust implicitly to + poetical analogies. Our affections,” continued Lady Anne, “arise from + circumstances totally independent of our will.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the very thing I meant to say,” interrupted Belinda, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “They are excited by the agreeable or useful qualities that we discover in + things or in persons.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Or by those which our fancies discover,” said Lady Anne. + </p> + <p> + Belinda was silent; but, after a pause, she said, “That it was certainly + very dangerous, especially for women, to trust to fancy in bestowing their + affections.” “And yet,” said Lady Anne, “it is a danger to which they are + much exposed in society. Men have it in their power to assume the + appearance of every thing that is amiable and estimable, and women have + scarcely any opportunities of detecting the counterfeit.” + </p> + <p> + “Without Ithuriel’s spear, how can they distinguish the good from the + evil?” said Belinda. “This is a common-place complaint, I know; the ready + excuse that we silly young women plead, when we make mistakes for which + our friends reproach us, and for which we too often reproach ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “The complaint is common-place precisely because it is general and just,” + replied Lady Anne. “In the slight and frivolous intercourse, which + fashionable belles usually have with those fashionable beaux who call + themselves their lovers, it is surprising that they can discover any thing + of each other’s real character. Indeed they seldom do; and this probably + is the cause why there are so many unsuitable and unhappy marriages. A + woman who has an opportunity of seeing her lover in private society, in + domestic life, has infinite advantages; for if she has any sense, and he + has any sincerity, the real character of both may perhaps be developed.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Belinda (who now suspected that Lady Anne alluded to Mr. + Vincent); “and in such a situation a woman would readily be able to decide + whether the man who addressed her would suit her taste or not; so she + would be inexcusable if, either from vanity or coquetry, she disguised her + real sentiments.” + </p> + <p> + “And will Miss Portman, who cannot, by any one to whom she is known, be + suspected of vanity or coquetry, permit me to speak to her with the + freedom of a friend?” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, touched by the kindness of Lady Anne’s manner, pressed her hand, + and exclaimed, “Yes, dear Lady Anne, speak to me with freedom—you + cannot do me a greater favour. No thought of my mind, no secret feeling of + my heart, shall be concealed from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not imagine that I wish to encroach upon the generous openness of your + temper,” said Lady Anne; “tell me when I go too far, and I will be silent. + One who, like Miss Portman, has lived in the world, has seen a variety of + characters, and probably has had a variety of admirers, must have formed + some determinate idea of the sort of companion that would make her happy, + if she were to marry—unless,” said Lady Anne, “she has formed a + resolution against marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “I have formed no such resolution,” said Belinda. “Indeed, since I have + seen the happiness which you and Mr. Percival enjoy in your own family, I + have been much more disposed to think that a union—that a union such + as yours, would increase my happiness. At the same time, my aversion to + the idea of marrying from interest, or convenience, or from any motives + but esteem and love, is increased almost to horror. O Lady Anne! there is + nothing that I would not do to please the friends to whom I am under + obligations, except sacrificing my peace of mind, or my integrity, the + happiness of my life, by—” + </p> + <p> + Lady Anne, in a gentle tone, assured her, that she was the last person in + the world who would press her to any union which would make her unhappy. + “You perceive that Mr. Vincent has spoken to me of what passed between you + yesterday. You perceive that I am his friend, but do not forget that I am + also yours. If you fear <i>undue influence</i> from any of your relations + in favour of Mr. Vincent’s large fortune, &c. let his proposal remain + a secret between ourselves, till you can decide, from farther acquaintance + with him, whether it will be in your power to return his affection.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear, my dear Lady Anne,” cried Belinda, “that it is not in my power to + return his affection.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask your objections?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not a sufficient objection, that I am persuaded I cannot love him?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for you may be mistaken in that persuasion. Remember what we said a + little while ago, about <i>fancy and spontaneous affections</i>. Does Mr. + Vincent appear to you defective in any of the qualities which you think + essential to happiness? Mr. Percival has known him from the time he was a + man, and can answer for his integrity and his good temper. Are not these + the first points you would consider? They ought to be, I am sure, and I + believe they are. Of his understanding I shall say nothing, because you + have had full opportunities of judging of it from his conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vincent appears to have a good understanding,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Then to what do you object?—Is there any thing disgusting to you in + his person or manners?” + </p> + <p> + “He is very handsome, he is well bred, and his manners are unaffected,” + said Belinda; “but—do not accuse me of caprice—altogether he + does not suit my taste; and I cannot think it sufficient not to feel + disgust for a husband—though I believe this is the fashionable + doctrine.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not mine, I assure you,” said Lady Anne. “I am not one of those who + think it ‘safest to begin with a little aversion;’ but since you + acknowledge that Mr. Vincent possesses the essential good qualities that + entitle him to your esteem, I am satisfied. We gradually acquire knowledge + of the good qualities of those who endeavour to please us; and if they are + really amiable, their persons become agreeable to us by degrees, when we + become accustomed to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Accustomed!” said Belinda, smiling: “one does grow accustomed even to + disagreeable things certainly; but at this rate, my dear Lady Anne, I do + not doubt but one might grow <i>accustomed</i> to Caliban.” + </p> + <p> + “My belief in the reconciling power of custom does not go quite so far,” + said Lady Anne. “It does not extend to Caliban, or even to the hero of La + Belle et La Bête; but I do believe, that, in a mind so well regulated as + yours, esteem may certainly in time be improved into love. I will tell Mr. + Vincent so, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear Lady Anne! no; you must not—indeed you must not. You + have too good an opinion of me—my mind is not so well regulated—I + am much weaker, much sillier, than you imagine—than you can + conceive,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + Lady Anne soothed her with the most affectionate expressions, and + concluded with saying, “Mr. Vincent has promised not to return from + Harrowgate, to torment you with his addresses, if you be absolutely + determined against him. He is of too generous, and perhaps too proud a + temper, to persecute you with vain solicitations; and however Mr. Percival + and I may wish that he could obtain such a wife, we shall have the common, + or uncommon, sense and good-nature to allow our friends to be happy their + own way.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good—too good. But am I then to be the cause of + banishing Mr. Vincent from all his friends—from Oakly-park?” + </p> + <p> + “Will he not do what is most prudent, to avoid the charming Miss Portman,” + said Lady Anne, smiling, “if he must not love her? This was at least the + advice I gave him, when he consulted us yesterday evening. But I will not + sign his writ of banishment lightly. Nothing but the assurance that the + heart is engaged can be a sufficient cause for despair; nothing else + could, in my eyes, justify you, my dear Belinda, from the charge of + caprice.” + </p> + <p> + “I can give you no such assurance, I hope—I believe,” said Belinda, + in great confusion; “and yet I would not for the world deceive you: you + have a right to my sincerity.” She paused; and Lady Anne said with a + smile, “Perhaps I can spare you the trouble of telling me in words what a + blush told me, or at least made me suspect, yesterday evening, when we + were standing by the river side, when little Charles asked you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember—I saw you look at me.” + </p> + <p> + “Undesignedly, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “Undesignedly, I am sure; but I was afraid you would think—” + </p> + <p> + “The truth.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but more than the truth. The truth you shall hear; and the rest I + will leave to your judgment and to your kindness.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda gave a full account of her acquaintance with Clarence Hervey; of + the variations in his manner towards her; of his excellent conduct with + respect to Lady Delacour (of this, by-the-by, she spoke at large). But she + was more concise when she touched upon the state of her own heart; and her + voice almost failed when she came to the history of the lock of beautiful + hair, the Windsor incognita, and the picture of Virginia. She concluded by + expressing her conviction of the propriety of forgetting a man, who was in + all probability attached to another, and she declared it to be her + resolution to banish him from her thoughts. Lady Anne said, “that nothing + could be more prudent or praiseworthy than forming such a resolution—except + keeping it.” Lady Anne had a high opinion of Mr. Hervey; but she had no + doubt, from Belinda’s account, and from her own observations on Mr. + Hervey, and from slight circumstances which had accidentally come to Mr. + Percival’s knowledge, that he was, as Belinda suspected, attached to + another person. She wished, therefore, to confirm Miss Portman in this + belief, and to turn her thoughts towards one who, beside being deserving + of her esteem and love, felt for her the most sincere affection. She did + not, however, press the subject farther at this time, but contented + herself with requesting that Belinda would take three days (the usual time + given for deliberation in fairy tales) before she should decide against + Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + The next day they went to look at a porter’s lodge, which Mr. Percival had + just built; it was inhabited by an old man and woman, who had for many + years been industrious tenants, but who, in their old age, had been + reduced to poverty, not by imprudence, but by misfortune. Lady Anne was + pleased to see them comfortably settled in their new habitation; and + whilst she and Belinda were talking to the old couple, their + grand-daughter, a pretty looking girl of about eighteen, came in with a + basket of eggs in her hand. “Well, Lucy,” said Lady Anne, “have you + overcome your dislike to James Jackson?” The girl reddened, smiled, and + looked at her grand-mother, who answered for her in an arch tone, “Oh, + yes, my lady! We are not afraid of Jackson <i>now</i>; we are grown very + great friends. This pretty cane chair for my good man was his handiwork, + and these baskets he made for me. Indeed, he’s a most industrious, + ingenious, good-natured youth; and our Lucy takes no offence at his + courting her now, my lady, I can assure you. That necklace, which is never + off her neck now, he turned for her, my lady; it is a present of his. So I + tell him he need not be discouraged, though so be she did not take to him + at the first; for she’s a good girl, and a sensible girl—I say it, + though she’s my own; and the eyes are used to a face after a time, and + then it’s nothing. They say, fancy’s all in all in love: now in my + judgment, fancy’s little or nothing with girls that have sense. But I beg + pardon for prating at this rate, more especially when I am so old as to + have forgot all the little I ever knew about such things.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have the best right in the world to speak about such things, and + your grand-daughter has the best reason in the world to listen to you,” + said Lady Anne, “because, in spite of all the crosses of fortune, you have + been an excellent and happy wife, at least ever since I can remember.” + </p> + <p> + “And ever since I can remember, that’s more; no offence to your ladyship,” + said the old man, striking his crutch against the ground. “Ever since I + can remember, she has made me the happiest man in the whole world, in the + whole parish, as every body knows, and I best of all!” cried he, with a + degree of enthusiasm that lighted up his aged countenance, and animated + his feeble voice. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said the honest dame, “if I had followed my fancy, and taken up + with my first love, it would not ha’ been with <i>he</i>, Lucy. I had a + sort of a fancy (since my lady’s so good as to let me speak), I had a sort + of a fancy for an idle young man; but he, very luckily for me, took it + into his head to fall in love with another young woman, and then I had + leisure enough left me to think of your grandfather, who was not so much + to my taste like at first. But when I found out his goodness and + cleverness, and joined to all, his great tenderness for me, I thought + better of it, Lucy (as who knows but you may do, though there shall not be + a word said on my part to press you, for poor Jackson?); and my thinking + better is the cause why I have been so happy ever since, and am so still + in my old age. Ah, Lucy! dear, what a many years that same old age lasts, + after all! But young folks, for the most part, never think what’s to come + after thirty or forty at farthest. But I don’t say this for you, Lucy; for + you are a good girl, and a sensible girl, though my own grand-daughter, as + I said before, and therefore won’t be run away with by fancy, which is + soon past and gone: but make a prudent choice, that you won’t never have + cause to repent of. But I’ll not say a word more; I’ll leave it all to + yourself and James Jackson.” + </p> + <p> + “You do right,” said Lady Anne: “good morning to you! Farewell, Lucy! + That’s a pretty necklace, and is very becoming to you—fare ye well!” + </p> + <p> + She hurried out of the cottage with Belinda, apprehensive that the + talkative old dame might weaken the effect of her good sense and + experience by a farther profusion of words. + </p> + <p> + “One would think,” said Belinda, with an ingenuous smile, “that this + lesson upon the dangers of <i>fancy</i> was intended for me: at any rate, + I may turn it to my own advantage!” + </p> + <p> + “Happy those who can turn all the experience of others to their own + advantage!” said Lady Anne: “this would be a more valuable privilege than + the power of turning every thing that is touched to gold.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on in silence for a few minutes; and then Miss Portman, + pursuing the train of her own thoughts, and unconscious that she had not + explained them to Lady Anne, abruptly exclaimed, “But if I should be + entangled, so as not to be able to retract!—and if it should not be + in my power to love him at last, he will think me a coquette, a jilt, + perhaps: he will have reason to complain of me, if I waste his time, and + trifle with his affections. Then is it not better that I should avoid, by + a decided refusal, all possibility of injury to Mr. Vincent, and of blame + to myself?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no danger of Mr. Vincent’s misunderstanding or misrepresenting + you. The risk that he runs is by his voluntary choice; and I am sure that + if, after farther acquaintance with him, you find it impossible to return + his affection, he will not consider himself as ill-used by your refusal.” + </p> + <p> + “But after a certain time—after the world suspects that two people + are engaged to each other, it is scarcely possible for the woman to + recede: when they come within a certain distance, they are pressed to + unite, by the irresistible force of external circumstances. A woman is too + often reduced to this dilemma: either she must marry a man she does not + love, or she must be blamed by the world—either she must sacrifice a + portion of her reputation, or the whole of her happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “The world is indeed often too curious, and too rash in these affairs,” + said Lady Anne. “A young woman is not in this respect allowed sufficient + time for freedom of deliberation. She sees, as Mr. Percival once said, + ‘the drawn sword of tyrant custom suspended over her head by a single + hair.’” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, notwithstanding you are so well aware of the danger, your + ladyship would expose me to it?” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for I think the chance of happiness, in this instance, overbalances + the risk,” said Lady Anne. “As we cannot alter the common law of custom, + and as we cannot render the world less gossiping, or less censorious, we + must not expect always to avoid censure; all we can do is, never to + deserve it—and it would be absurd to enslave ourselves to the + opinion of the idle and ignorant. To a certain point, respect for the + opinion of the world is prudence; beyond that point, it is weakness. You + should also consider that the <i>world</i> at Oakly-park and in London are + two different worlds. In London if you and Mr. Vincent were seen often in + each other’s company, it would be immediately buzzed about that Miss + Portman and Mr. Vincent were going to be married; and if the match did not + take place, a thousand foolish stories might be told to account for its + being broken off. But here you are not surrounded by busy eyes and busy + tongues. The butchers, bakers, ploughmen, and spinsters, who compose our + world, have all affairs of their own to mind. Besides, their comments can + have no very extensive circulation; they are used to see Mr. Vincent + continually here; and his staying with us the remainder of the autumn will + not appear to them any thing wonderful or portentous.” + </p> + <p> + Their conversation was interrupted. Mr. Vincent returned to Oakly-park—but + upon the express condition that he should not make his attachment public + by any particular attentions, and that he should draw no conclusions in + his favour from Belinda’s consenting to converse with him freely upon + every common subject. To this treaty of amity Lady Anne Percival was + guarantee. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — A WEDDING. + </h2> + <p> + Belinda and Mr. Vincent could never agree in their definition of the-word + <i>flattery</i>; so that there were continual complaints on the one hand + of a breach of treaty, and, on the other, solemn protestations of the most + scrupulous adherence to his compact. However this might be, it is certain + that the gentleman gained so much, either by truth or fiction, that, in + the course of some weeks, he got the lady as far as “gratitude and + esteem.” + </p> + <p> + One evening, Belinda was playing with little Charles Percival at + spillikins. Mr. Vincent, who found pleasure in every thing that amused + Belinda, and Mr. Percival, who took an interest in every thing which + entertained his children, were looking on at this simple game. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Percival,” said Belinda, “condescending to look at a game of + jack-straws!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lady Anne; “for he is of Dryden’s opinion, that, if a straw + can be made the instrument of happiness, he is a wise man who does not + despise it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Miss Portman, take care!” cried Charles, who was anxious that she + should win, though he was playing against her. “Take care! don’t touch + that knave.” + </p> + <p> + “I would lay a hundred guineas upon the steadiness of Miss Portman’s + hand,” cried Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll lay you sixpence, though,” cried Charles, eagerly, “that she’ll stir + the king, if she touches that knave—I’ll lay you a shilling.” + </p> + <p> + “Done! done!” cried Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “Done! done!” cried the boy, stretching out his hand, but his father + caught it. + </p> + <p> + “Softly! softly, Charles!—No betting, if you please, my dear. Done + and done sometimes ends in—undone.” + </p> + <p> + “It was my fault—it was I who was in the wrong,” cried Vincent + immediately. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you are in the right, now,” said Mr. Percival; “and, what is + better than my saying so, Miss Portman thinks so, as her smile tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “You moved, Miss Portman!” cried Charles:—“Oh, indeed! the king’s + head stirred, the very instant papa spoke. I knew it was impossible that + you could get that knave clear off without shaking the king. Now, papa, + only look how they were balanced.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant you,” said Mr. Vincent, “I should have made an imprudent bet. So + it is well I made none; for now I see the chances were ten to one, twenty + to one, a hundred to one against me.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not appear to me to be a matter of chance,” said Mr. Percival. + “This is a game of address, not chance, and that is the reason I like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! Oh, Miss Portman! look how nicely these are balanced. There! my + breath has set them in motion. Look, they shake, shake, shake, like the + great rocking-stones at Brimham Crags.” + </p> + <p> + “That is comparing small things to great, indeed!” said Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-by,” cried Mr. Vincent, “Miss Portman has never seen those + wonderful rocking-stones—suppose we were to ride to see them + to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + The proposal was warmly seconded by the children, and agreed to by every + one. It was settled, that after they had seen Brimham Crags they should + spend the remainder of the day at Lord C——‘s beautiful place + in the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + The next morning was neither too hot nor too cold, and they set out on + their little party of pleasure; the children went with their mother, to + their great delight, in the <i>sociable</i>; and Mr. Vincent, to his great + delight, rode with Belinda. When they came within sight of the Crags, Mr. + Percival, who was riding with them, exclaimed—“What is that yonder, + on the top of one of the great rocking-stones?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like a statue,” said Vincent. “It has been put up since we were + here last.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy it has got up of itself,” said Belinda, “for it seems to be + getting down of itself. I think I saw it stoop. Oh! I see now, it is a man + who has got up there, and he seems to have a gun in his hand, has not he? + He is going through his manual exercise for his diversion—for the + diversion of the spectators below, I perceive—there is a party of + people looking at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Him!” said Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “I protest it is a woman!” said Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “No, surely,” said Belinda: “it cannot be a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless it be Mrs. Freke,” replied Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + In fact it was Mrs. Freke, who had been out shooting with a party of + gentlemen, and who had scrambled upon this rocking-stone, on the summit of + which she went through the manual exercise at the word of command from her + officer. As they rode nearer to the scene of action, Belinda heard the + shrill screams of a female voice, and they descried amongst the gentlemen + a slight figure in a riding habit. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Moreton, I suppose,” said Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl! what are they doing with her?” cried Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “They seem to be forcing her up to the top of that place, where she has no + mind to go. Look how Mrs. Freke drags her up by the arm!” + </p> + <p> + As they drew nearer, they heard Mrs. Freke laughing loud as she rocked + this frightened girl upon the top of the stone. + </p> + <p> + “We had better keep out of the way, I think,” said Belinda: “for perhaps, + as she has vowed vengeance against me, she might take a fancy to setting + me upon that pinnacle of glory.” + </p> + <p> + “She dare not,” cried Vincent, his eyes flashing with anger: “you may + trust to us to defend you.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!—But I will not run into danger on purpose to give you + the pleasure of defending me,” said Belinda; and as she spoke, she turned + her horse another way. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t turn back, Miss Portman?” cried Vincent eagerly, laying his + hand on her bridle.—“Good Heavens, ma’am! we can’t run away!—We + came here to look at these rocking-stones!—We have not half seen + them. Lady Anne and the children will be here immediately. You would not + deprive them of the pleasure of seeing these things!” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt whether they would have much pleasure in seeing <i>some of these + things!</i> and as to the rest, if I disappoint the children now, Mr. + Percival will, perhaps, have the goodness to bring them some other day.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Mr. Percival: “Miss Portman shows her usual prudence.” + </p> + <p> + “The children are so good tempered, that I am sure they will forgive me,” + continued Belinda; “and Mr. Vincent will be ashamed not to follow their + example, though he seems to be rather angry with me at present for + obliging him to turn back—out of the path of danger.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not be surprised at that,” said Mr. Percival, laughing; “for Mr. + Vincent is a lover and a hero. You know it is a ruled case, in all + romances, that when a lover and his mistress go out riding together, some + adventure must befal them. The horse must run away with the lady, and the + gentleman must catch her in his arms just as her neck is about to be + broken. If the horse has been too well trained for the heroine’s purpose, + ‘some footpad, bandit fierce, or mountaineer,’ some jealous rival must + make his appearance quite unexpectedly at the turn of a road, and the lady + must be carried off—robes flying—hair streaming—like + Bürger’s Leonora. Then her lover must come to her rescue just in the + proper moment. But if the damsel cannot conveniently be run away with, she + must, as the last resource, tumble into a river to make herself + interesting, and the hero must be at least half drowned in dragging her + out, that she may be under eternal obligations to him, and at last be + forced to marry him out of pure gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Gratitude!” interrupted Mr. Vincent: “he is no hero, to my mind, who + would be content with gratitude, instead of love.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not alarm yourself: Miss Portman does not seem inclined to put + you to the trial, you see,” said Mr. Percival, smiling. “Now it is really + to be regretted, that she deprived you of an opportunity of fighting some + of the gentlemen in Mrs. Freke’s train, or of delivering her from the + perilous height of one of those rocking-stones. It would have been a new + incident in a novel.” + </p> + <p> + “How that poor girl screamed!” said Belinda. “Was her terror real or + affected?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly real, partly affected, I fancy,” said Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “I pity her,” said Mr. Vincent; “for Mrs. Freke leads her a weary life.” + </p> + <p> + “She is certainly to be pitied, but also to be blamed,” said Mr. Percival. + “You do not know her history. Miss Moreton ran away from her friends to + live with this Mrs. Freke, who has led her into all kinds of mischief and + absurdity. The girl is weak and vain, and believes that every thing + becomes her which Mrs. Freke assures her is becoming. At one time she was + persuaded to go to a public ball with her arms as bare as Juno’s, and her + feet as naked as Mad. Tallien’s. At another time Miss Moreton (who + unfortunately has never heard the Greek proverb, that half is better than + the whole,) was persuaded by Mrs. Freke to lay aside, her half boots, and + to equip herself in men’s whole boots; and thus she rode about the + country, to the amazement of all the world. These are trifles; but women + who love to set the world at defiance in trifles seldom respect its + opinion in matters of consequence. Miss Moreton’s whole boots in the + morning, and her bare feet in the evening, were talked of by every body, + till she gave them more to talk of about her attachment to a young + officer. Mrs. Freke, whose philosophy is professedly latitudinarian in + morals, laughed at the girl’s prejudice in favour of the ceremony of + marriage. So did the officer; for Miss Moreton had no fortune. It is + suspected that the young lady did not feel the difficulty, which + philosophers are sometimes said to find in suiting their practice to their + theory. The <i>unenlightened</i> world reprobated the theory much, and the + practice more. I am inclined, in spite of scandal, to think the poor girl + was only imprudent: at all events, she repents her folly too late. She has + now no friend upon earth but Mrs. Freke, who is, in fact, her worst enemy, + and who tyrannizes over her without mercy. Imagine what it is to be the + butt of a buffoon!” + </p> + <p> + “What a lesson to young ladies in the choice of female friends!” said + Belinda. “But had Miss Moreton no relations, who could interfere to get + her out of Mrs. Freke’s hands?” + </p> + <p> + “Her father and mother were old, and, what is more contemptible, + old-fashioned: she would not listen to their advice; she ran away from + them. Some of her relations were, I believe, willing that she should stay + with Mrs. Freke, because she was a dashing, fashionable woman, and they + thought it might be what is called <i>an advantage</i> to her. She had one + relation, indeed, who was quite of a different opinion, who saw the danger + of her situation, and remonstrated in the strongest manner—but to no + purpose. This was a cousin of Miss Moreton’s, a respectable clergyman. + Mrs. Freke was so much incensed by his <i>insolent interference</i>, as + she was pleased to call it, that she made an effigy of Mr. Moreton dressed + in his canonicals, and hung the figure up as a scarecrow in a garden close + by the high road. He was so much beloved and respected for his benevolence + and unaffected piety, that Mrs. Freke totally failed in her design of + making him ridiculous; her scarecrow was torn to pieces by his + parishioners; and though, in the true spirit of charity, he did all he + could to moderate their indignation against his enemy, the lady became + such an object of detestation, that she was followed with hisses and + groans whenever she appeared, and she dared not venture within ten miles + of the village. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Freke now changed the mode of her persecution: she was acquainted + with a nobleman from whom our clergyman expected a living, and she worked + upon his lordship so successfully, that he insisted upon having an apology + made to the lady. Mr. Moreton had as much dignity of mind as gentleness of + character; his forbearance was that of principle, and so was his firmness: + he refused to make the concessions that were required. His noble patron + bullied. Though he had a large family to provide for, the clergyman would + not degrade himself by any improper submission. The incumbent died, and + the living was given to a more compliant friend. So ends the history of + one of Mrs. Freke’s numerous frolics.” + </p> + <p> + “This was the story,” said Mr. Vincent, “which effectually changed my + opinion of her. Till I heard it, I always looked upon her as one of those + thoughtless, good-natured people, who, as the common saying is, do nobody + any harm but themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “It is difficult in society,” said Mr. Percival, “especially for women, to + do harm to themselves, without doing harm to others. They may begin in + frolic, but they must end in malice. They defy the world—the world + in return excommunicates them—the female outlaws become desperate, + and make it the business and pride of their lives to disturb the peace of + their sober neighbours. Women who have lowered themselves in the public + opinion cannot rest without attempting to bring others to their own + level.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Freke, notwithstanding the blustering merriment that she affects, is + obviously unhappy,” said Belinda; “and since we cannot do her any good, + either by our blame or our pity, we had better think of something else.” + </p> + <p> + “Scandal,” said Mr. Vincent, “does not seem to give you much pleasure, + Miss Portman. You will be glad to hear that Mrs. Freke’s malice against + poor Mr. Moreton has not ruined him. Do you know Mr. Percival, that he has + just been presented to a good living by a generous young man, who heard of + his excellent conduct?” + </p> + <p> + “I am extremely glad of it,” said Mr. Percival. “Who is this generous + young man? I should like to be acquainted with him.” + </p> + <p> + “So should I,” said Mr. Vincent: “he is a Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “Clarence Hervey, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Clarence was his name.” + </p> + <p> + “No man more likely to do a generous action than Clarence Hervey,” said + Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody more likely to do a generous action than Mr. Hervey,” repeated + Belinda, in rather a low tone. She could now praise Clarence Hervey + without blushing, and she could think even of his generosity without + partiality, though not without pleasure. By strength of mind, and timely + exertion, she had prevented her prepossession from growing into a passion + that might have made her miserable. Proud of this conquest over herself, + she was now disposed to treat Mr. Vincent with more favour than usual. + Self-complacency generally puts us in good-humour with our friends. + </p> + <p> + After spending some pleasant hours in Lord C———‘s + beautiful grounds, where the children explored to their satisfaction every + dingle and bushy dell, they returned home in the cool of the evening. Mr. + Vincent thought it the most delightful evening he had ever felt. + </p> + <p> + “What! as charming as a West Indian evening?” said Mr. Percival. “This is + more than I expected ever to hear you acknowledge in favour of England. Do + you remember how you used to rave of the climate and of the prospects of + Jamaica?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but my taste has quite changed.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember the time,” said Mr. Percival, “when you thought it impossible + that your taste should ever change; when you told me that taste, whether + for the beauties of animate or inanimate nature, was immutable.” + </p> + <p> + “You and Miss Portman have taught me better sense. First loves are + generally silly things,” added he, colouring a little. Belinda coloured + also. + </p> + <p> + “First loves,” continued Mr. Percival, “are not necessarily more foolish + than others; but the chances are certainly against them. From poetry or + romance, young people usually form their earlier ideas of love, before + they have actually felt the passion; and the image which they have in + their own minds of the <i>beau ideal</i> is cast upon the first objects + they afterward behold. This, if I may be allowed the expression, is + Cupid’s Fata Morgana. Deluded mortals are in ecstasy whilst the illusion + lasts, and in despair when it vanishes.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival appeared to be unconscious that what he was saying was any + way applicable to Belinda. He addressed himself to Mr. Vincent solely, and + she listened at her ease. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said she, “do not you think that this prejudice, as I am willing to + allow it to be, in favour of first loves, may <i>in our sex</i> be + advantageous? Even when a woman may be convinced—that she ought not + to indulge a <i>first</i> love, should she not be prevented by delicacy + from thinking of a second?” + </p> + <p> + “Delicacy, my dear Miss Portman, is a charming word, and a still more + charming thing, and Mrs. Freke has probably increased our affection for + it; but even delicacy, like all other virtues, must be judged of by the + test of utility. We should run into romance, and error, and misery, if we + did not constantly refer to this standard. Our reasonings as to the + conduct of life, as far as moral prudence is concerned, must depend + ultimately upon facts. Now, of the numbers of people in this world, how + many do you think have married their <i>first loves?</i> Probably not one + out of ten. Then, would you have nine out of ten pine all their lives in + celibacy, or fret in matrimony, because they cannot have the persons who + first struck their <i>fancy?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “I acknowledge this would not add to the happiness of society,” said + Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Nor to its virtue,” said Mr. Percival. “I scarcely know an idea more + dangerous to domestic happiness than this belief in the unextinguishable + nature of a first flame. There are people who would persuade us that, + though it may be smothered for years, it must break out at last, and blaze + with destructive fury. Pernicious doctrine! false as it is pernicious!—The + struggles between duty and passion may be the charm of romance, but must + be the misery of real life. The woman who marries one man, and loves + another, who, in spite of all that an amiable and estimable husband can do + to win her confidence and affection, nourishes in secret a <i>fatal</i> + prepossession for her first love, may perhaps, by the eloquence of a fine + writer, be made an interesting heroine;—but would any man of sense + or feeling choose to be troubled with such a wife?—Would not even + the idea that women admired such conduct necessarily tend to diminish our + confidence, if not in their virtue, at least in their sincerity? And would + not this suspicion destroy our happiness? Husbands may sometimes have + delicate feelings as well as their wives, though they are seldom allowed + to have any by these unjust novel writers. Now, could a husband who has + any delicacy be content to possess the person without the mind?—the + duty without the love?—Could he be perfectly happy, if, in the + fondest moments, he might doubt whether he were an object of disgust or + affection?—whether the smiles of apparent joy were only the efforts + of a suffering martyr?—Thank Heaven! I am not married to one of + these charming martyrs. Let those live with them who admire them. For my + part, I admire and love the wife, who not only seems but is happy—as + I,” added Mr. Percival smiling, “have the fond credulity to believe. If I + have spoken too long or too warmly upon the chapter of <i>first loves</i>, + I have at least been a perfectly disinterested declaimer; for I can assure + you, Miss Portman, that I do not suspect Lady Anne Percival of sighing in + secret for some vision of perfection, any more than she suspects me of + pining for the charming Lady Delacour, who, perhaps, you may have heard + was my <i>first love</i>. In these days, however, so few people marry with + even the pretence to love of any sort, that you will think I might have + spared this tirade. No; there are ingenuous minds which will never be + enslaved by fashion or interest, though they may be exposed to be deceived + by romance, or by the <i>delicacy</i> of their own imaginations.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear,” said Belinda, smiling, “I hear and understand the emphasis with + which you pronounce that word <i>delicacy</i>. I see you have not + forgotten that I used it improperly half an hour ago, as you have + convinced me.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy they,” said Mr. Percival, “who can be convinced in half an hour! + There are some people who cannot be convinced in a whole life, and who end + where they began, with saying—‘This is my opinion—I always + thought so, and always shall.’” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent at all times loved Mr. Percival; but he never felt so much + affection for him as he did this evening, and his arguments appeared to + him unanswerable. Though Belinda had never mentioned to Mr. Vincent the + name of Clarence Hervey till this day, and though he did not in the least + suspect from her manner that this gentleman ever possessed any interest in + her heart; yet, with her accustomed sincerity, she had confessed to him + that an impression had been made upon her mind before she came to + Oakly-park. + </p> + <p> + After this conversation with Mr. Percival, Mr. Vincent perceived that he + gained ground more rapidly in her favour; and his company grew every day + more agreeable to her taste: he was convinced that, as he possessed her + esteem, he should in time secure her affections. + </p> + <p> + “In time,” repeated Lady Anne Percival: “you must allow her time, or you + will spoil all.” + </p> + <p> + It was with some difficulty that Mr. Vincent restrained his impatience, + even though he was persuaded of the prudence of his friend’s advice. + Things went on in this happy, but as he thought slow, state of progression + till towards the latter end of September. + </p> + <p> + One fine morning Lady Anne Percival came into Belinda’s room with a bridal + favour in her hand. “Do you know,” said she, “that we are to have a + wedding to-day? This favour has just been sent to my maid. Lucy, the + pretty girl whom you may remember to have seen some time ago with that + prettily turned necklace, is the bride, and James Jackson is the + bridegroom. Mr. Vincent has let them a very pretty little farm in the + neighbourhood, and—hark! there’s the sound of music.” + </p> + <p> + They looked out of the window, and they saw a troop of villagers, gaily + dressed, going to the wedding. Lady Anne, who was always eager to promote + innocent festivity, sent immediately to have a tent pitched in the park; + and all the rural company were invited to a dance in the evening: it was a + very cheerful spectacle. Belinda heard from all sides praises of Mr. + Vincent’s generosity; and she could not be insensible to the simple but + enthusiastic testimony which Juba bore to his master’s goodness. Juba had + composed, in his broken dialect, a little song in honour of his master, + which he sang to his banjore with the most touching expression of joyful + gratitude. In some of the stanzas Belinda could distinguish that her own + name was frequently repeated. Lady Anne called him, and desired to have + the words of this song. They were a mixture of English and of his native + language; they described in the strongest manner what had been his + feelings whilst he was under the terror of Mrs. Freke’s fiery obeah-woman, + then his joy on being relieved from these horrors, with the delightful + sensations of returning health;—and thence he suddenly passed to his + gratitude to Belinda, the person to whom he owed his recovery. He + concluded with wishing her all sorts of happiness, and, above all, that + she might be fortunate in her love; which Juba thought the highest degree + of felicity. He had no sooner finished his song, which particularly + touched and pleased Miss Portman, than he begged his master to offer to + her the little instrument, which he had made with much pains and + ingenuity. She accepted the banjore with a smile that enchanted Mr. + Vincent; but at this instant they were startled by the sound of a carriage + driving rapidly into the park. Belinda looked up, and between the heads of + the dancers she just caught a glimpse of a well-known livery. “Good + heavens!” she exclaimed, “Lady Delacour’s carriage!—Can it be Lady + Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped, and Marriott hastily jumped out of it. Belinda + pressed forward to meet her; poor Marriott was in great agitation:—“Oh, + Miss Portman! my poor lady is very ill—very ill, indeed. She has + sent me for you—here’s her letter. Dear Miss Portman, I hope you + won’t refuse to come; she <i>has</i> been very ill, and is very ill; but + she would be better, if she could see you again. But I’ll tell every + thing, ma’am, when we are by ourselves, and when you have read your + letter.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman immediately accompanied Marriott towards the house; and as + they walked thither, she learned that Lady Delacour had applied to the + quack-doctor in whom she had such implicit faith, and had in vain + endeavoured to engage him to perform for her the operation to which she + had determined to submit. He was afraid to hazard it, and he prevailed + upon her to give up the scheme, and to try some new external remedy from + which he promised wonders. No one knew what his medicines were, but they + affected her head in the most alarming manner. + </p> + <p> + In her delirium she called frequently upon Miss Portman; sometimes + accusing her of the basest treachery, sometimes addressing her as if she + were present, and pouring forth the warmest expressions of friendship. “In + her lucid intervals, ma’am,” continued Marriott, “she for some weeks + scarcely ever mentioned your name, nor could bear to hear me mention it. + One day, when I was saying how much I wished that you were with her again, + she darted at me the most terrible look that ever I beheld. + </p> + <p> + “‘When I am in my grave, Marriott,’ cried my lady, ‘it will be time enough + for Miss Portman again to visit this house, and you may then express your + attachment to her with more propriety than at present.’ These were my + lady’s own words—I shall never forget them: they struck and + astonished me, ma’am, so much, I stood like one stupified, and then left + the room to think them over again by myself, and make sense of them, if I + could. Well, ma’am, to be sure, it then struck me like a flash of + lightning, that my lady was jealous—and, begging your pardon, ma’am—of + you. This seemed to me the most unnatural thing in the world, considering + how easy my lady had always seemed to be about my lord; but it was now + clear to me, that this was the cause of your leaving us so suddenly, + ma’am. Well, I was confident that Mr. Champfort was at the bottom of the + business from the first; and now that I knew what scent to go upon, I went + to work with fresh spirit to find him out, which was a thing I was + determined upon—and what I’m determined upon, I generally do, ma’am. + So I put together things about Miss Portman and my lord, that had dropped + at odd times from Sir Philip Baddely’s gentleman; and I, partly serious + and partly flirting, which in a good cause is no sin, drew from him (for + he pretends to be a little an admirer of mine, ma’am, though I never gave + him the smallest encouragement) all he knew or suspected, or had heard + reported, or whispered; and out it came, ma’am, that Mr. Champfort was the + original of all; and that he had told a heap of lies about some bank-notes + that my lord had given you, and that you and my lord were to be married as + soon as my lady was dead; and I don’t know what, which he maliciously + circulated through Sir Philip’s gentleman to Sir Philip himself, and so + round again to my lady. Now, Sir Philip’s man behaved like a gentleman + upon the occasion, which I shall ever be free to acknowledge and remember: + and when I represented things properly, and made him sensible of the + mischief, which, he assured me, was done purely with an eye to serve Sir + Philip, his master, he very candidly offered to assist me to unmask that + villain Champfort, which he could easily do with the assistance of a few + bottles of claret, and a few fair words; which, though I can’t abide + hypocrisy, I thought quite allowable upon such an occasion. So, ma’am, + when Mr. Champfort was thrown off his guard by the claret, Sir Philip’s + gentleman began to talk of my lord and my lady, and Miss Portman; and he + observed that my lord and my lady were coming together more than they used + to be since Miss Portman left the house. To which Champfort replied with + an oath, like an unmannered reprobate as he is, and in his gibberish, + French and English, which I can’t speak; but the sense of it was this:—‘My + lord and lady shall never come together, if I can help it. It was to + hinder this I got Miss Portman banished; for my lord was quite another man + after she got Miss Helena into the house; and I don’t doubt but he might + have been brought to leave off his burgundy, and set up for a sober, + regular man; which would not suit me at all. If my lady once was to get + power over him again, I might go whistle—so (with another reprobate + oath) my lord and my lady shall never come together again whilst I live.’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma’am,” continued Marriott, “as soon as I was in possession of this + precious speech, I carried it and a letter of Sir Philip Baddely’s + gentleman vouching it to my lady. My lady was thunderstruck, and so vexed + to have been, as she said, a dupe, that she sent for my lord directly, and + insisted upon his giving up Mr. Champfort. My lord demurred, because my + lady spoke so high, and said <i>insist</i>. He would have done it, I’m + satisfied, of his own accord with the greatest pleasure, if my lady had + not, as it were, commanded it. But he answered at last, ‘My Lady Delacour, + I’m not a man to be governed by a wife—I shall keep or part with my + own servants in my own house, according to my own pleasure;’ and saying + so, he left the room. I never saw my lady so angry as she was at this + refusal of my lord to part with him. The house was quite in a state of + distraction for some days. I never would sit down to the same table, + ma’am, with Mr. Champfort, nor speak to him, nor look at him, and parties + ran high above and below stairs. And at last my lady, who had been getting + better, took to her bed again with a nervous fever, which brought her + almost to death’s door; she having been so much weakened before by the + quack medicines and convulsions, and all her sufferings in secret. She + would not see my lord on no account, and Champfort persuaded him her + illness was pretence, to bring him to her purpose; which was the more + readily believed, because nobody was ever let into my lady’s bedchamber + but myself. All this time she never mentioned your name, ma’am; but once, + when I was sitting by her bedside, as she was asleep, she started + suddenly, and cried out, ‘Oh, my dearest Belinda! are you come back to + me?’—She awakened herself with the start; and raising herself quite + up in her bed, she pulled back the curtains, and looked all round the + room. I’m sure she expected to see you; and when she found it was a dream, + she gave a heavy sigh, and sank down upon her pillow. I then could not + forbear to speak, and this time my lady was greatly touched when I + mentioned your name:—she shed tears, ma’am; and you know it is not a + little thing that can draw tears from my lady. But when I said something + about sending for you, she answered, she was sure you would not return to + her, and that she would never condescend to ask a favour in vain, even + from you. Then I replied that I was sure you loved her still, and as well + as ever: and that the proof of that was, that Mrs. Luttridge and Mrs. + Freke together, by all their wiles, could not draw you over to their party + at Harrowgate, and that you had affronted Mrs. Freke by defending her + ladyship. My lady was all surprise at this, and eagerly asked how I came + to know it. Now, ma’am, I had it all by a post letter from Mrs. + Luttridge’s maid, who is my cousin, and knows every thing that’s going on. + My lady from this moment forward could scarce rest an instant without + wishing for you, and fretting for you as I knew by her manner. One day my + lord met me on the stairs as I was coming down from my poor lady’s room, + and he asked me how she was, and why she did not send for a physician. + ‘The best physician, my lord, she could send for,’ said I, ‘would be Miss + Portman; for she’ll never be well till that good young lady comes back + again, in my humble opinion.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And what should prevent that good young lady from coming back again? Not + I, surely,’ rejoined my lord, ‘for I wish she were here with all my + heart.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It is not easy to suppose, my lord,’ said I, ‘after all that has passed, + that the young lady would choose to return, or that my lady would ask her, + whilst Mr. Champfort remains paramount in the house.’ ‘If that’s all,’ + cried my lord, ‘tell your lady I’ll part with Champfort upon the spot; for + the rascal has just had the insolence to insist upon it, that a pair of + new boots are not too tight for me, when I said they were. I’ll show him I + can be master, and will, in my own house.’ Ma’am, my heart leaped for joy + within me at hearing these words, and I ran up to my lady with them. I + easily concluded in my own mind, that my lord was glad of the pretence of + the boots, to give up handsomely after his standing out so long. To be + sure, my lord’s mightily jealous of being master, and mighty fond of his + own way; but I forgive him every thing for doing as I would have him at + last, and dismissing that prince of mischief-makers, Mr. Champfort. My + lady called for her writing-desk directly, and sat up in her bed, and with + her trembling hand, as you see by the writing, ma’am, wrote a letter to + you as fast as ever she could, and the postchaise was ordered. I don’t + know what fancy seized her—but if you remember, ma’am, the + hammercloth to her new carriage had orange and black fringe at first: she + would not use it, till this had been changed to blue and white. Well, + ma’am, she recollected this on a sudden, as I was getting ready to come + for you; and she set the servants at work directly to take off the blue + and white, and put on the black and orange fringe again, which she said + must be done before your coming. And my lady ordered her own footman to + ride along with me; and I have come post, and have travelled night and + day, and will never rest till I get back. But, ma’am, I won’t keep you any + longer from reading your letter, only to say, that I hope to Heaven you + will not refuse to return to my poor lady, if it be only to put her mind + at ease before she dies. She cannot have long to live.” + </p> + <p> + As Marriott finished these words they reached the house, and Belinda went + to her own room to read Lady Delacour’s letter. It contained none of her + customary ‘<i>éloquence du billet</i>,’ no sprightly wit, no real, no + affected gaiety; her mind seemed to be exhausted by bodily suffering, and + her high spirit subdued. She expressed the most poignant anguish for + having indulged such unjust suspicions and intemperate passions. She + lamented having forfeited the esteem and affection of the only real friend + she had ever possessed—a friend of whose forbearance, tenderness, + and fidelity, she had received such indisputable proofs. She concluded by + saying, “I feel my end fast approaching, and perhaps, Belinda, your + humanity will induce you to grant my last request, and to let me see you + once more before I die.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda immediately decided to return to Lady Delacour—though it was + with real regret that she thought of leaving Lady Anne Percival, and the + amiable and happy family to whom she had become so much attached. The + children crowded round her when they heard that she was going, and Mr. + Vincent stood in silent sorrow—but we spare our readers this parting + scene Miss Portman promised to return to Oakly-park as soon as she + possibly could. Mr. Vincent anxiously requested permission to follow her + to town: but this she positively refused; and he submitted with as good a + grace as a lover can submit to any thing that crosses his passion. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — RECONCILIATION. + </h2> + <p> + Aware that her remaining in town at such an unusual season of the year + would appear unaccountable to her fashionable acquaintance, Lady Delacour + contrived for herself a characteristic excuse; she declared that there was + no possibility of finding pleasure in any thing but novelty, and that the + greatest novelty to her would be to remain a whole summer in town. Most of + her friends, amongst whom she had successfully established a character for + caprice, were satisfied that this was merely some new whim, practised to + signalize herself by singularity. The real reason that detained her was + her dependence upon the empiric, who had repeatedly visited and constantly + prescribed for her. Convinced, however, by the dreadful situation to which + his prescriptions had lately reduced her that he was unworthy of her + confidence, she determined to dismiss him: but she could not do this, as + she had a considerable sum to pay him, till Marriott’s return, because she + could not trust any one but Marriott to let him up the private staircase + into the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + During Marriott’s absence, her ladyship suffered no one to attend her but + a maid who was remarkable for her stupidity. She thought that she could + have nothing to fear from this girl’s spirit of inquiry, for never was any + human being so destitute of curiosity. It was about noon when Belinda and + Marriott arrived. Lady Delacour, who had passed a restless night, was + asleep. When she awoke, she found Marriott standing beside her bed. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is all in vain, I see,” cried her ladyship: “Miss Portman is not + with you?—Give me my laudanum.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman is come, my lady,” said Marriott; “she is in the + dressing-room: she would not come in here with me, lest she should startle + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Belinda is come, do you say? Admirable Belinda!” cried Lady Delacour, and + she clasped her hands with ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell her, my lady, that you are awake?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no—stay—Lord Delacour is at home. I will get up + immediately. Let my lord be told that I wish to speak with him—that + I beg he will breakfast with me in my dressing-room half an hour hence. I + will dress immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Marriott in vain represented that she ought not to hurry herself in her + present weak state. Intent upon her own thoughts, she listened to nothing + that was said, but frequently urged Marriott to be expeditious. She put on + an unusual quantity of rouge: then looking at herself in the glass, she + said, with a forced smile, “Marriott, I look so charmingly, that Miss + Portman, perhaps, will be of Lord Delacour’s opinion, and think that + nothing is the matter with me. Ah! no; she has been behind the scenes—she + knows the truth too well!—Marriott, pray did she ask you many + questions about me?—Was not she very sorry to leave Oakly-park?—Were + not they all extremely concerned to part with her?—Did she ask after + Helena?—Did you tell her that I insisted upon my lord’s parting with + Champfort?” + </p> + <p> + At the word Champfort, Marriott’s mouth opened eagerly, and she began to + answer with her usual volubility. Lady Delacour waited not for any reply + to the various questions which, in the hurry of her mind, she had asked; + but, passing swiftly by Marriott, she threw open the door of her + dressing-room. At the sight of Belinda she stopped short; and, totally + overpowered, she would have sunk upon the floor, had not Miss Portman + caught her in her arms, and supported her to a sofa. When she came to + herself, and heard the soothing tone of Belinda’s voice, she looked up + timidly in her face for a few moments without being able to speak. + </p> + <p> + “And are you really here once more, my dear Belinda?” cried she at last; + “and may I still call you my friend?—and do you forgive me?—Yes, + I <i>see</i> you do—and from you I can endure the humiliation of + being forgiven. Enjoy the noble sense of your own superiority.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lady Delacour,” said Belinda, “you see all this in too strong a + light: you have done me no injury—I have nothing to forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>cannot</i> see it in too strong a light.—Nothing to forgive!—Yes, + you have; that which it is the most difficult to forgive—injustice. + Oh, how you must have despised me for the folly, the meanness of my + suspicions! Of all tempers that which appears to me, and I am sure to you, + the most despicable, the most intolerable, is a suspicious temper. Mine + was once open, generous as your own—you see how the best + dispositions may be depraved—what am I now? Fit only + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘To point a moral, or adorn a tale’— +</pre> + <p> + a mismatched, misplaced, miserable, perverted being.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you have abused yourself till you are breathless, I may have some + chance,” said Belinda, “of being heard in your defence. I perfectly agree + with you in thinking that a suspicious temper is despicable and + intolerable; but there is a vast difference between an acute fit of + jealousy, as our friend Dr. X—— would say, and a chronic habit + of suspicion. The noblest natures may be worked up to suspicion by + designing villany; and then a handkerchief, or a hammercloth, ‘trifles as + light as air’—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, you are too good. But my folly admits of no excuse, no + palliation,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “mine was jealousy without love.” + </p> + <p> + “That indeed would admit of no excuse,” said Belinda; “therefore you will + pardon me if I think it incredible—especially as I have detected you + in feeling something like affection for your little daughter, after you + had done your best, I mean your worst, to make me believe that you were a + monster of a mother.” + </p> + <p> + “That was quite another affair, my dear. I did not know Helena was worth + loving. I did not imagine my little daughter could love me. When I found + my mistake, I changed my tone. But there is no hope of mistake with my + poor husband. Your own sense must show you, that Lord Delacour is not a + man to beloved.” + </p> + <p> + “That could not <i>always</i> have been your ladyship’s opinion,” said + Belinda, with an arch smile. + </p> + <p> + “Lord! my dear,” said Lady Delacour, a little embarrassed, “in the highest + paroxysm of my madness, I never suspected that you could <i>love</i> Lord + Delacour; I surely only hinted that you were in love with his coronet. + That was absurd enough in all conscience—don’t make me more absurd + than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it then the height of absurdity to love a husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Love! Nonsense!—Impossible!—Hush! here he comes, with his + odious creaking shoes. What man can ever expect to be loved who wears + creaking shoes?” pursued her ladyship, as Lord Delacour entered the room, + his shoes creaking at every step; and assuming an air of levity, she + welcomed him as a stranger to her dressing-room. “No speeches, my lord! no + speeches, I beseech you,” cried she, as he was beginning to speak to Miss + Portman. “Believe me, that explanations always make bad worse. Miss + Portman is here, thank Heaven! and her; and Champfort is gone, thank you—or + your boots. And now let us sit down to breakfast, and forget as soon as + possible every thing that is disagreeable.” + </p> + <p> + When Lady Delacour had a mind to banish painful recollections, it was + scarcely possible to resist the magical influence of her conversation and + manners; yet her lord’s features never relaxed to a smile during this + breakfast. He maintained an obstinate silence, and a profound solemnity—till + at last, rising from table, he turned to Miss Portman, and said, “Of all + the caprices of fine ladies, that which surprises me the most is the whim + of keeping their beds without being sick. Now, Miss Portman, you would + hardly suppose that my Lady Delacour, who has been so lively this morning, + has kept her bed, as I am informed, a fortnight—is not this + astonishing?” + </p> + <p> + “Prodigiously astonishing, that my Lord Delacour, like all the rest of the + world, should be liable to be deceived by appearances,” cried her + ladyship. “Honour me with your attention for a few minutes, my lord, and + perhaps I may increase your astonishment.” + </p> + <p> + His lordship, struck by the sudden change of her voice from gaiety to + gravity, fixed his eyes upon her and returned to his seat. She paused—then + addressing herself to Belinda, “My incomparable friend,” said she, “I will + now give you a convincing proof of the unlimited power you have over my + mind. My lord, Miss Portman has persuaded me to the step which I am now + going to take. She has prevailed upon me to make a decisive trial of your + prudence and kindness. She has determined me to throw myself on your + mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” repeated Lord Delacour; and a confused idea, that she was now + about to make a confession of the justice of some of his former + suspicions, took possession of his mind: he looked aghast. + </p> + <p> + “I am going, my lord, to confide to you a secret of the utmost importance—a + secret which is known to but three people in the world—Miss Portman, + Marriott, and a man whose name I cannot reveal to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Lady Delacour!” cried his lordship, with a degree of emotion and + energy which he had never shown till now: “stop, I conjure, I command you, + madam! I am not sufficiently master of myself—I once loved you too + well to hear such a stroke. Trust me with no such secret—say no more—you + have said enough—too much. I forgive you, that is all I can do: but + we must part, Lady Delacour!” said he, breaking from her with agony + expressed in his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “The man has a heart, a soul, I protest! You knew him better than I did, + Miss Portman. Nay, you are not gone yet, my lord! You really love me, I + find.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” cried he, vehemently: “weak as you take me to be, Lady + Delacour, I am incapable of loving a woman who has disgraced me, disgraced + herself, her family, her station, her high endowments, her—” His + utterance failed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lady Delacour!” cried Belinda, “how can you trifle in this manner?” + </p> + <p> + “I meant not,” said her ladyship, “to trifle: I am satisfied. My lord, it + is time that you should be satisfied. I <i>can</i> give you the most + irrefragable proof, that whatever may have been the apparent levity of my + conduct, you have had no serious cause for jealousy. But the proof will + shock—disgust you. Have you courage to know more?—Then follow + me.” + </p> + <p> + He followed her.—Belinda heard the boudoir door unlocked.—In a + few minutes they returned.—Grief, and horror, and pity, were painted + in Lord Delacour’s countenance, as he passed hastily through the room. + </p> + <p> + “My dearest friend, I have taken your advice: would to Heaven I had taken + it sooner!” said Lady Delacour to Miss Portman. “I have revealed to Lord + Delacour my real situation. Poor man! he was shocked beyond expression. He + behaved incomparably well. I am convinced that he would, as he said, let + his hand be cut off to save my life. The moment his foolish jealousy was + extinguished, his love for me revived in full force. Would you believe it? + he has promised me to break with odious Mrs. Luttridge. Upon my charging + him to keep my secret from her, he instantly, in the handsomest manner in + the world, declared he would never see her more, rather than give me a + moment’s uneasiness. How I reproach myself for having been for years the + torment of this man’s life!” + </p> + <p> + “You may do better than reproach yourself, my dear Lady Delacour,” said + Belinda; “you may yet live for years to be the blessing and pride of his + life. I am persuaded that nothing but your despair of obtaining domestic + happiness has so long enslaved you to dissipation; and now that you find a + friend in your husband, now that you know the affectionate temper of your + little Helena, you will have fresh views and fresh hopes; you will have + the courage to live for yourself, and not for what is called the world.” + </p> + <p> + “The world!” cried Lady Delacour, with a tone of disdain: “how long has + that word enslaved a soul formed for higher purposes!” She paused, and + looked up towards heaven with an expression of fervent devotion, which + Belinda had once, and but once, before seen in her countenance. Then, as + if forgetful even that Belinda was present, she threw herself upon a sofa, + and fell, or seemed to fall, into a profound reverie. She was roused by + the entrance of Marriott, who came into the room to ask whether she would + now take her laudanum. “I thought I had taken it,” said she in a feeble + voice; and as she raised her eyes and saw Belinda, she added, with a faint + smile, “Miss Portman, I believe, has been laudanum to me this morning: but + even that will not do long, you see; nothing will do for me now but <i>this</i>,” + and she stretched out her hand for the laudanum. “Is not it shocking to + think,” continued she, after she had swallowed it, “that in laudanum alone + I find the means of supporting existence?” + </p> + <p> + She put her hand to her head, as if partly conscious of the confusion of + her own ideas: and ashamed that Belinda should witness it, she desired + Marriott to assist her to rise, and to support her to her bedchamber. She + made a sign to Miss Portman not to follow her. “Do not take it unkindly, + but I am quite exhausted, and wish to be alone; for I am grown fond of + being alone some hours in the day, and perhaps I shall sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Marriott came out of her lady’s room about a quarter of an hour afterward, + and said that her lady seemed disposed to sleep, but that she desired to + have her hook left by her bedside. Marriott searched among several which + lay upon the table, for one in which a mark was put. Belinda looked over + them along with Marriott, and she was surprised to find that they had + almost all methodistical titles. Lady Delacour’s mark was in the middle of + Wesley’s Admonitions. Several pages in other books of the same description + Miss Portman found marked in pencil, with reiterated lines, which she knew + to be her ladyship’s customary mode of distinguishing passages that she + particularly liked. Some were highly oratorical, but most of them were of + a mystical cast, and appeared to Belinda scarcely intelligible. She had + reason to be astonished at meeting with such books in the dressing-room of + a woman of Lady Delacour’s character. During the solitude of her illness, + her ladyship had first begun to think seriously on religious subjects, and + the early impressions that had been made on her mind in her childhood, by + a methodistical mother, recurred. Her understanding, weakened perhaps by + disease, and never accustomed to reason, was incapable of distinguishing + between truth and error; and her temper, naturally enthusiastic, hurried + her from one extreme to the other—from thoughtless scepticism to + visionary credulity. Her devotion was by no means steady or permanent; it + came on by fits usually at the time when the effect of opium was + exhausted, or before a fresh dose began to operate. In these intervals she + was low-spirited—bitter reflections on the manner in which she had + thrown away her talents and her life obtruded themselves; the idea of the + untimely death of Colonel Lawless, of which she reproached herself as the + cause, returned; and her mind, from being a prey to remorse, began to sink + in these desponding moments under the most dreadful superstitious terrors—terrors + the more powerful as they were secret. Whilst the stimulus of laudanum + lasted, the train of her ideas always changed, and she was amazed at the + weak fears and strange notions by which she had been disturbed; yet it was + not in her power entirely to chase away these visions of the night, and + they gained gradually a dominion over her, of which she was heartily + ashamed. She resolved to conceal this <i>weakness</i>, as in her gayer + moments she thought it, from Belinda, from whose superior strength of + understanding she dreaded ridicule or contempt. Her experience of Miss + Portman’s gentleness and friendship might reasonably have prevented or + dispelled such apprehensions; but Lady Delacour was governed by pride, by + sentiment, by whim, by enthusiasm, by passion—by any thing but + reason. + </p> + <p> + When she began to revive after her fit of languor, and had been refreshed + by opium and sleep, she rang for Marriott, and inquired for Belinda. She + was much provoked when Marriott, by way of proving to her that Miss + Portman could not have been tired of being left alone, told her that she + had been in the dressing-room <i>rummaging over the books</i>. + </p> + <p> + “What books?” cried Lady Delacour. “I forgot that <i>they</i> were left + there. Miss Portman is not reading them still, I suppose? Go for them, and + let them be locked up in my own bookcase, and bring me the key.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship appeared in good spirits when she saw Belinda again. She + rallied her upon the serious studies she had chosen for her morning’s + amusements. “Those methodistical books, with their strange quaint titles,” + said she, “are, however, diverting enough to those who, like myself, can + find diversion in the height of human absurdity.” + </p> + <p> + Deceived by the levity of her manner, Belinda concluded that the marks of + approbation in these books were ironical, and she thought no more of the + matter; for Lady Delacour suddenly gave a new turn to the conversation by + exclaiming, “Now we talk of the height of human absurdity, what are we to + think of Clarence Hervey?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should we think of him at all?” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “For two excellent reasons, my dear: because we cannot help it, and + because he deserves it. Yes, he deserves it, believe me, if it were only + for having written these charming letters,” said Lady Delacour, opening a + cabinet, and taking out a small packet of letters, which she put into + Belinda’s hands. “Pray, read them; you will find them amazingly edifying, + as well as entertaining. I protest I am only puzzled to know whether I + shall bind them up with Sterne’s Sentimental Journey or Fordyce’s Sermons + for Young Women. Here, my love, if you like description,” continued her + ladyship, opening one of the letters, “here is a Radcliffean tour along + the picturesque coasts of Dorset and Devonshire. Why he went this tour, + unless for the pleasure and glory of describing it, Heaven knows! Clouds + and darkness rest over the tourist’s private history: but this, of course, + renders his letters more <i>piquant</i> and interesting. All who have a + just taste either for literature or for gallantry, know how much we are + indebted to the obscure for the sublime; and orators and lovers feel what + felicity there is in the use of the fine figure of suspension.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good description, indeed!” said Belinda, without raising her eyes + from the letter, or seeming to pay any attention to the latter part of + Lady Delacour’s speech; “very good description, certainly!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear; but here is something better than <i>pure description</i>—here + is sense for you: and pray mark the politeness of addressing sense to a + woman—to a woman of sense, I mean—and which of us is not? Then + here is sentiment for you,” continued her ladyship, spreading another + letter before Belinda; “a story of a Dorsetshire lady, who had the + misfortune to be married to a man as <i>unlike</i> Mr. Percival, and as + like Lord Delacour, as possible; and yet, oh, wonderful! they make as + happy a couple as one’s heart could wish. Now, I am truly candid and + good-natured to admire this letter; for every word of it is a lesson to + me, and evidently was so intended. But I take it all in good part, + because, to do Clarence justice, he describes the joys of domestic + Paradise in such elegant language, that he does not make me sick. In + short, my dear Belinda, to finish my panegyric, as it has been said of + some other epistles, if ever there were letters calculated to make you + fall in love with the writer of them, these are they.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Miss Portman, folding up the letter which she was just going + to read, “I will not run the hazard of reading them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear,” said Lady Delacour, with a look of mingled concern, + reproach, and raillery, “have you actually given up my poor Clarence, + merely on account of this mistress in the wood, this Virginia St. Pierre? + Nonsense! Begging your pardon, my dear, the man loves you. Some + entanglement, some punctilio, some doubt, some delicacy, some folly, + prevents him from being just at this moment, where, I confess, he ought to + be—at your feet; and you, out of patience, which a young lady ought + never to be if she can help it, will go and marry—I know you will—some + stick of a rival, purely to provoke him.” + </p> + <p> + “If ever I marry,” said Belinda, with a look of proud humility, “I shall + certainly marry to please myself, and not to provoke any body else; and, + at all events, I hope I shall never marry <i>a stick</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me that word,” said Lady Delacour. “I am convinced you never will—but + one is apt to judge of others by one’s self. I am willing to believe that + Mr. Vincent——” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vincent! How did you know——” exclaimed Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “How did I know? Why, my dear, do you think I am so little interested + about you, that I have not found out some of your secrets? And do you + think that Marriott could refrain from telling me, in her most triumphant + tone, that ‘Miss Portman has not gone to Oakly-park for nothing; that she + has made a conquest of a Mr. Vincent, a West Indian, a ward, or lately a + ward, of Mr. Percival’s, the handsomest man that ever was seen, and the + richest, &c. &c. &c.?’ Now simple I rejoiced at the news; for + I took it for granted you would never seriously think of marrying the + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did your ladyship rejoice?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Oh, you novice at Cupid’s chess-board! do not you see the next move? + Check with your new knight, and the game is your own. Now, if your aunt + Stanhope saw your look at this instant, she would give you up for ever—if + she have not done that already. In plain, unmetaphorical prose, then, + cannot you comprehend, my straight-forward Belinda, that if you make + Clarence Hervey heartily jealous, let the impediments to your union be + what they may, he will acknowledge himself to be heartily in love with + you? I should make no scruple of frightening him within an inch of his + life, for his good. Sir Philip Baddely was not the man to frighten him; + but this Mr. Vincent, by all accounts, is just the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you imagine that I could use Mr. Vincent so ill?—And can you think + me capable of such double dealing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! in love and war, you know, all stratagems are allowable. But you take + the matter so seriously, and you redden with such virtuous indignation, + that I dare not say a word more—only—may I ask—are you + absolutely engaged to Mr. Vincent?” + </p> + <p> + “No. We have had the prudence to avoid all promises, all engagements.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s my good girl!” cried Lady Delacour, kissing her: “all may yet + turn out well. Read those letters—take them to your room, read them, + read them; and depend upon it, my dearest Belinda! you are not the sort of + woman that will, that can be happy, if you make a mere match of + convenience. Forgive me—I love you too well not to speak the truth, + though it may offend for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not offend, but you misunderstand me,” said Belinda. “Have + patience with me, and you shall find that I am incapable of making a mere + match of convenience.” + </p> + <p> + Then Miss Portman gave Lady Delacour a simple but full account of all that + had passed at Oakly-park relative to Mr. Vincent. She repeated the + arguments by which Lady Anne Percival had first prevailed upon her to + admit of Mr. Vincent’s addresses. She said, that she had been convinced by + Mr. Percival, that the omnipotence of a <i>first love</i> was an idea + founded in error, and realized only in romance; and that to believe that + none could be happy in marriage, except with the first object of their + fancy or their affections, would be an error pernicious to individuals and + to society. When she detailed the arguments used by Mr. Percival on this + subject, Lady Delacour sighed, and observed that Mr. Percival was + certainly right, judging from <i>his own experience</i>, to declaim + against the folly of <i>first loves</i>; “and for the same reason,” added + she, “perhaps I may be pardoned if I retain some prejudice in their + favour.” She turned aside her head to hide a starting tear, and here the + conversation dropped. Belinda, recollecting the circumstances of her + ladyship’s early history, reproached herself for having touched on this + tender subject, yet at the same time she felt with increased force, at + this moment, the justice of Mr. Percival’s observations; for, evidently, + the hold which this prejudice had kept in Lady Delacour’s mind had + materially injured her happiness, by making her neglect, after her + marriage, all the means of content that were in her reach. Her incessant + comparisons between her <i>first love</i> and her husband excited + perpetual contempt and disgust in her mind for her wedded lord, and for + many years precluded all perception of his good qualities, all desire to + live with him upon good terms, and all idea of securing that share of + domestic happiness that was actually in her power. Belinda resolved at + some future moment, whenever she could, with propriety and with effect, to + suggest these reflections to Lady Delacour, and in the mean time she was + determined to turn them to her own advantage. She perceived that she + should have need of all her steadiness to preserve her judgment unbiassed + by her ladyship’s wit and persuasive eloquence on the one hand, and on the + other by her own high opinion of Lady Anne Percival’s judgment, and the + anxious desire she felt to secure her approbation. The letters from + Clarence Hervey she read at night, when she retired to her own room; and + they certainly raised not only Belinda’s opinion of his talents, but her + esteem for his character. She saw that he had, with great address, made + use of the influence he possessed over Lady Delacour, to turn her mind to + every thing that could make her amiable, estimable, and happy—she + saw that Clarence, so far from attempting, for the sake of his own vanity, + to retain his pre-eminence in her ladyship’s imagination, used on the + contrary “his utmost skill” to turn the tide of her affections toward her + husband and her daughter. In one of his letters, and but in one, he + mentioned Belinda. He expressed great regret in hearing from Lady Delacour + that her friend, Miss Portman, was no longer with her. He expatiated on + the inestimable advantages and happiness of having such a friend—but + this referred to Lady Delacour, not to himself. There was an air of much + respect and some embarrassment in all he said of Belinda, but nothing like + love. A few words at the end of this paragraph were cautiously + obliterated, however; and, without any obvious link of connexion, the + writer began a new sentence with a general reflection upon the folly and + imprudence of forming romantic projects. Then he enumerated some of the + various schemes he had formed in his early youth, and humorously recounted + how they had failed, or how they had been abandoned. Afterward, changing + his tone from playful wit to serious philosophy, he observed the changes + which these experiments had made in his own character. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, Dr. X——,” said he, “divides mankind into three + classes: those who learn from the experience of others—they are + happy men; those who learn from their own experience—they are wise + men; and, lastly, those who learn neither from their own nor from other + people’s experience—they are fools. This class is by far the + largest. I am content,” continued Clarence, “to be in the middle class—perhaps + you will say because I cannot be in the first: however, were it in my + power to choose my own character, I should, forgive me the seeming vanity + of the speech, still be content to remain in my present station upon this + principle—the characters of those who are taught by their own + experience must be progressive in knowledge and virtue. Those who learn + from the experience of others may become stationary, because they must + depend for their progress on the experiments that we brave volunteers, at + whose expense they are to live and learn, are pleased to try. There may be + much safety in thus snugly fighting, or rather seeing the battle of life, + behind the broad shield of a stouter warrior; yet it seems to me to be + rather an ignominious than an enviable situation. + </p> + <p> + “Our friend, Dr. X——, would laugh at my insisting upon being + amongst the class of learners by their own experience. He would ask me, + whether it be the ultimate end of my philosophy to try experiments, or to + be happy. And what answer should I make? I have none ready. Common sense + stares me in the face, and my feelings, even at this instant, alas! + confute my system. I shall pay too dear yet for some of my experiments. + ‘Sois grand homme, et sois malheureux,’ is, I am afraid, the law of + nature, or rather the decree of the world. Your ladyship will not read + this without a smile; for you will immediately infer, that I think myself + a great man; and as I detest hypocrisy yet more than vanity, I shall not + deny the charge. At all events, I feel that I am at present—however + gaily I talk of it—in as fair a way to be unhappy for life, as if I + were, in good earnest, the greatest man in Europe. + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship’s most respectful admirer, and sincere friend, + </p> + <p> + “CLARENCE HERVEY.” + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—Is there any hope that your friend, Miss Portman, may spend + the winter in town?” + </p> + <p> + Though Lady Delacour had been much fatigued by the exertion of her spirits + during the day, she sat up at night to write to Mr. Hervey. Her love and + gratitude to Miss Portman interested her most warmly for her happiness, + and she was persuaded that the most effectual way to secure it would be to + promote her union with her <i>first love</i>. Lady Delacour, who had also + the best opinion of Clarence Hervey, and the most sincere friendship for + him, thought she was likewise acting highly for his interest; and she felt + that she had some merit in at once parting with him from the train of her + admirers, and urging him to become a dull, married man. Besides these + generous motives, she was, perhaps, a little influenced by jealousy of the + superior power which Lady Anne Percival had in so short a time acquired + over Belinda’s mind. “Strange,” thought she, “if love and I be not a match + for Lady Anne Percival and reason!” To do Lady Delacour justice, it must + be observed, that she took the utmost care in her letter not to <i>commit</i> + her friend; she wrote with all the delicate address of which she was + mistress. She began by rallying her correspondent on his indulging himself + so charmingly in <i>the melancholy of genius</i>; and she prescribed as a + cure to her <i>malheureux imaginaire</i>, as she called him, those joys of + domestic life which he so well knew how to paint. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Précepte commence, exemple achève</i>,” said her ladyship. “You will + never see me <i>la femme comme il y en a peu</i>, till I see you <i>le bon + mari</i>. Belinda Portman has this day returned to me from Oakly-park, + fresh, blooming, wise, and gay, as country air, flattery, philosophy, and + love can make her. It seems that she has had full employment for her head + and heart. Mr. Percival and Lady Anne, by right of science and reason, + have taken possession of the head, and a Mr. Vincent, their ci-devant ward + and declared favourite, has laid close siege to the heart, of which he is + in a fair way, I think, to take possession, by the right of conquest. As + far as I can understand—for I have not yet seen <i>le futur</i>—he + deserves my Belinda; for besides being as handsome as any hero of romance, + ancient or modern, he has a soul in which neither spot nor blemish can be + found, except the amiable weakness of being desperately in love—a + weakness which we ladies are apt to prefer to the most philosophic + stoicism: apropos of philosophy—we may presume, that notwithstanding + Mr. V—— is a creole, he has been bred up by his guardian in + the class of men who learn by the experience of others. As such, according + to your system, he has a right to expect to be a <i>happy man</i>, has not + he? According to Mrs. Stanhope’s system, I am sure that he has: for his + thousands and tens of thousands, as I am credibly informed, pass the + comprehension of the numeration table. + </p> + <p> + “But these will weigh not a grain in the estimation of her truly + disinterested and noble-minded niece. Mrs. Stanhope knows nothing of Mr. + Vincent’s proposals; and it is well for him she does not, for her worldly + good word would mar the whole. Not so as to Lady Anne and Mr. Percival’s + approbation—their opinion is all in all with my friend. How they + have contrived it, I know not, but they have gained over Belinda’s mind a + degree of power almost equal to parental authority; so you may guess that + the doubtful beam will not much longer nod from side to side: indeed it + seems to me scarcely necessary to throw in the sword of authority to turn + the scale. + </p> + <p> + “If you can persuade yourself to finish your picturesque tour before the + ides of the charming month of November, do, my dear Clarence! make haste + and come back to us in time for Belinda’s wedding—and do not forget + my commission about the Dorsetshire angel; bring me one in your right hand + with a gold ring upon her taper finger—so help you, Cupid! or never + more expect a smile + </p> + <p> + “From your sincere friend and admirer, + </p> + <p> + “T.C.H. DELACOUR.” + </p> + <p> + “P.S. Observe, my good sir, that I am not in such a desperate hurry to + congratulate you on your marriage, that I should be satisfied with an + ordinary Mrs. Hervey: so do not, under pretence of obliging me, or for any + other consideration, yoke yourself to some damsel that you will be ashamed + to produce. For one woman worthy to be Clarence Hervey’s wife, I have + seen, at a moderate computation, a hundred fit to be his mistress. If he + should, on this subject, mistake the <i>fitness of things or of persons</i>, + he would indeed be <i>in a fair way to be unhappy for life</i>. + </p> + <p> + “The substance of a lady’s letter, it has been said, always is comprised + in the postscript.” + </p> + <p> + After Lady Delacour had finished this letter, which she had no doubt would + bring Clarence immediately to town, she left it with Marriott, with orders + to have it sent by the next post. Much fatigued, she then retired to rest, + and was not visible the next day till near dinner-time. When Miss Portman + returned the packet of Mr. Hervey’s letters, her ladyship was dissatisfied + with the measured terms of Belinda’s approbation, and she said, with a + sarcastic smile, “So, they have made a complete philosopher of you at + Oakly-park! You are perfect in the first lesson—not to admire. And + is the torch of Cupid to be extinguished on the altar of Reason?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather to be lighted there, if possible,” said Belinda; and she + endeavoured to turn the conversation to what she thought must be more + immediately interesting to Lady Delacour—her own health. She assured + her, with perfect truth, that she was at present more intent upon her + situation than upon Cupid or his torch. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, my generous Belinda!” said Lady Delacour; “and for that + very reason I am interested in your affairs, I am afraid, even to the + verge of impertinence. May I ask why this <i>preux chevalier</i> of yours + did not attend you, or follow you to town?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vincent?—He knew that I came to attend your ladyship. I told + him that you had been confined by a nervous fever, and that it would be + impossible for me to see him at present; but I promised, when you could + spare me, to return to Oakly-park.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour sighed, and opened Clarence Hervey’s letters one after + another, looking over them without seeming well to know what she was + about. Lord Delacour came into the room whilst these letters were still in + her hand. He had been absent since the preceding morning, and he now + seemed as if he were just come home, much fatigued. He began in a tone of + great anxiety to inquire after Lady Delacour’s health. She was piqued at + his having left home at such a time, and, merely bowing her head to him, + she went on reading. His eyes glanced upon the letters which she held in + her hand; and when he saw the well-known writing of Clarence Hervey, his + manner immediately altered, and, stammering out some common-place phrases, + he threw himself into an arm-chair by the fireside, protesting that he was + tired to death—that he was half dead—that he had been in a + post-chaise for three hours, which he hated—had ridden fifty miles + since yesterday; and he muttered that he was a fool for his pains—an + observation which, though it reached her ladyship’s ears, she did not + think proper to contradict. + </p> + <p> + His lordship had then recourse to his watch, his never-failing friend in + need, which he always pulled out with a particular jerk when he was vexed. + </p> + <p> + “It is time for me to be gone—I shall be late at Studley’s.” + </p> + <p> + “You dine with his lordship then?” said Lady Delacour, in a careless tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and his good burgundy, I hope, will wind me up again,” said he, + stretching himself, “for I am quite down.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite down? Then we may conclude that my friend Mrs. Luttridge is not yet + come to <i>Rantipole</i>. Rantipole, my dear,” continued Lady Delacour, + turning to Miss Portman, “is the name of Harriot Freke’s villa in Kent. + However strange it may sound to your ears and mine, I can assure you the + name has <i>made fortune</i> amongst a certain description of wits. And + candour must allow that, if not elegant, it is appropriate; it gives a + just idea of the manners and way of life of the place, for every thing at + Rantipole is rantipole. But I am really concerned, my lord, you should + have ridden yourself down in this way for nothing. Why did not you get + better intelligence before you set out? I am afraid you feel the loss of + Champfort. Why did not you contrive to learn for certain, my dear good + lord, whether <i>the Luttridge</i> was at Rantipole, before you set out on + this wild goose chase?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear good lady,” replied Lord Delacour, assuming a degree of spirit + which startled her as much as it became him, “why do you not get better + intelligence before you suspect me of being a brute and a liar? Did not I + promise you yesterday, that I would break with <i>the Luttridge</i>, as + you call her? and how could you imagine that the instant afterwards, just + at the time I was wrung to the soul, as you know I was—how could you + imagine I would leave you to go to Rantipole, or to any woman upon earth?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lord! I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon a thousand times,” + cried Lady Delacour, rising with much emotion; and, going towards him with + a sudden impulse, she kissed his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “And so you ought to beg my pardon,” said Lord Delacour, in a faltering + voice, but without moving his posture. + </p> + <p> + “You will acknowledge you left me, however, my lord? That is clear.” + </p> + <p> + “Left you! Yes, so I did; to ride all over the country in search of a + house that would suit you. For what else did you think I <i>could</i> + leave you at such a time as this?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour again stooped, and leaned her arm upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to Heaven, my dear,” said his lordship, shrinking as he put away + her hand, which still held Clarence Hervey’s letters, “I wish to Heaven, + my dear, you would not hold those abominable perfumed papers just under my + very nose. You know I cannot stand perfumes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they perfumed? Ay; so every thing is that I keep in that cabinet of + curiosities. Thank you, my dear Miss Portman,” said her ladyship, as + Belinda rose to take the letters from her hand. “Will you have the + goodness to put them back into their cabinet, if you can endure to touch + them, if the perfume has not overcome you as well as my lord? After all, + it is only ottar of roses, to which few people’s olfactory nerves have an + antipathy.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to be one of the few,” said his lordship, rising from + his seat with so sudden a motion as to displace Lady Delacour’s arm which + leaned upon him. “For my part,” continued he, taking down one of the + Argand lamps from the chimney-piece, and trimming it, “I would rather a + hundred to one snuff up the oil of this cursed lamp.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst his lordship applied himself to trimming the lamp with great + earnestness, Lady Delacour negligently walked away to the farthest end of + the room, where stood the cabinet, which Belinda was trying to unlock. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, my love; it has a secret lock, which I alone can manage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Lady Delacour!” whispered Belinda, holding her hand as she + gave her the key, “I never can love or esteem you if you use Lord Delacour + ill now.” + </p> + <p> + “Ill now? ill now? This lock is spoilt, I do believe,” said she aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, you understand me, Lady Delacour! You see what is passing in his + mind.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure: I am not a fool, though he is. I see he is jealous, though he + has had such <i>damning proof</i> that all’s right—the man’s a fool, + that’s all. Are you sure this is the key I gave you, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “And can you think him a fool,” pursued Belinda, in a still more earnest + whisper, “for being more jealous of your mind than of your person? Fools + have seldom so much penetration, or so much delicacy.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Lord! what would you have me do? what would you have me say? That + Lord Delacour writes better letters than these?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! but show him these letters, and you will do justice to him, to + yourself, to Cla——, to every body.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I should be happy to do justice to <i>every body</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Then pray do this very instant, my dearest Lady Delacour! and I shall + love you for it all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Done!—for who can withstand that offer?—Done!” said her + ladyship. Then turning to Lord Delacour, “My lord, will you come here and + tell us what can be the matter with this lock?” + </p> + <p> + “If the lock be spoiled, Lady Delacour, you had better send for a + locksmith,” replied his lordship, who was still employed about the wick of + the Argand: “I am no locksmith—I do not pretend to understand locks—especially + secret locks.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will not desert us at our utmost need, I am sure, my lord,” said + Belinda, approaching him with a conciliatory smile. + </p> + <p> + “You want the light, I believe, more than I do,” said his lordship, + advancing with the lamp to meet her. “Well! what is the matter with this + confounded lock of yours, Lady Delacour? I know I should be at Studley’s + by this time—but how in the devil’s name can you expect me to open a + secret lock when I do not know the secret, Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will tell you the secret, Lord Delacour—that there is no + secret at all in the lock, or in the letters. Here, if you can stand the + odious smell of ottar of roses, take these letters and read them, foolish + man; and keep them till the shocking perfume is gone off.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour could scarcely believe his senses; he looked in Lady + Delacour’s eyes to see whether he had understood her rightly. + </p> + <p> + “But I am afraid,” said she, smiling, “that you will find the perfume too + overcoming.” + </p> + <p> + “Not half so overcoming,” cried he, seizing her hand, and kissing it often + with eager tenderness, “not half so overcoming as this confidence, this + kindness, this condescension from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Portman will think us both a couple of old fools,” said her + ladyship, making a slight effort to withdraw her hand. “But she is almost + as great a simpleton herself, I think,” continued she, observing that the + tears stood in Belinda’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said a footman who came in at this instant, “do you dress? The + carriage is at the door, as you ordered, to go to Lord Studley’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d see Lord Studley at the devil, sir, and his burgundy along with him, + before I’d go to him to-day; and you may tell him so, if you please,” + cried Lord Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my lord,” said the footman. + </p> + <p> + “My lord dines at home—they may put up the carriage—that’s + all,” said Lady Delacour: “only let us have dinner directly,” added she, + as the servant shut the door. “Miss Portman will be famished amongst us: + there is no living upon sentiment.” + </p> + <p> + “And there is no living with such belles without being something more of a + beau,” said Lord Delacour, looking at his splashed boots. “I will be ready + for dinner before dinner is ready for me.” With activity very unusual to + him, he hurried out of the room to change his dress. + </p> + <p> + “O day of wonders!” exclaimed Lady Delacour. “And, O night of wonders! if + we can get him through the evening without the help of Lord Studley’s + wine. You must give us some music, my good Belinda, and make him accompany + you with his flute. I can tell you he has really a very pretty taste for + music, and knows fifty times more of the matter than half the dilettanti, + who squeeze the human face divine into all manner of ridiculous shapes, by + way of persuading you that they are in ecstasy! And, my dear, do not + forget to show us the charming little portfolio of drawings that you have + brought from Oakly-park. Lord Delacour was with me at Harrowgate in the + days of his courtship: he knows the charming views that you have been + taking about Knaresborough and Fountain’s Abbey, and all those places. I + will answer for it, he remembers them a hundred times better than I do. + And, my love, I assure you he is a better judge of drawing than many whom + we saw ogling Venus rising from the sea, in the Orleans gallery. Lord + Delacour has let his talents go to sleep in a shameless manner; but really + he has talents, if they could be wakened. By-the-by, pray make him tell + you the story of Lord Studley’s original Titian: he tells that story with + real humour. Perhaps you have not found it out, but Lord Delacour has a + vast deal of drollery in his own way, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Dinner’s ready, my lady!” + </p> + <p> + “That is a pity!” whispered Lady Delacour; “for if they had let me go on + in my present humour, I should have found out that my lord has every + accomplishment under the sun, and every requisite under the moon, to make + the marriage state happy.” + </p> + <p> + With the assistance of Belinda’s portfolio and her harp, and the + good-humour and sprightliness of Lady Delacour’s wit, his lordship got + through the evening much to his own satisfaction. He played on the flute, + he told the story of Studley’s original Titian, and he detected a fault + that had escaped Mr. Percival in the perspective of Miss Portman’s sketch + of Fountain’s Abbey. The perception that his talents were <i>called out</i>, + and that he appeared to unusual advantage, made him <i>excellent company</i>: + he found that the spirits can be raised by self-complacency even more + agreeably than by burgundy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — HELENA + </h2> + <p> + Whilst they were at breakfast the next morning in Lady Delacour’s + dressing-room, Marriott knocked at the door, and immediately opening it, + exclaimed in a joyful tone, “Miss Portman, they’re eating it! Ma’am, + they’re eating it as fast as ever they can!” + </p> + <p> + “Bring them in; your lady will give you leave, Marriott, I fancy,” said + Miss Portman. Marriott brought in her gold fishes; some green leaves were + floating on the top of the water in the glass globe. + </p> + <p> + “See, my lady,” said she, “what Miss Portman has been so good as to bring + from Oakly-park for my poor gold fishes, who, I am sure, ought to be much + obliged to her, as well as myself.” Marriott set the globe beside her + lady, and retired. + </p> + <p> + “From Oakly-park! And by what name impossible to pronounce must I call + these green leaves, to please botanic ears?” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “This,” replied Belinda, “is what + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Th’unlearned, duckweed—learned, lemna, call; +</pre> + <p> + and it is to be found in any ditch or standing pool.” + </p> + <p> + “And what possessed you, my dear, for the sake of Marriott and her gold + fishes, to trouble yourself to bring such stuff a hundred and seventy + miles?” + </p> + <p> + “To oblige little Charles Percival,” said Miss Portman. “He was anxious to + keep his promise of sending it to your Helena. She found out in some book + that she was reading with him last summer, that gold fishes are fond of + this plant; and I wish,” added Belinda, in a timid voice, “that she were + here at this instant to see them eat it.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour was silent for some minutes, and kept her eye steadily upon + the gold fishes. At length she said, “I never shall forget how well the + poor little creature behaved about those gold fishes. I grew amazingly + fond of her whilst she was with me. But you know, circumstanced as I was, + after you left me, I could not have her at home.” + </p> + <p> + “But now I am here,” said Belinda, “will she he any trouble to you? And + will she not make your home more agreeable to you, and to Lord Delacour, + who was evidently very fond of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear!” said Lady Delacour, “you forget, and so do I at times, what + I have to go through. It is in vain to talk, to think of making home, or + any place, or any thing, or any person, agreeable to me now. What am I? + The outside rind is left—the sap is gone. The tree lasts from day to + day by miracle—it cannot last long. You would not wonder to hear me + talk in this way, if you knew the terrible time I had last night after we + parted. But I have these nights constantly now. Let us talk of something + else. What have you there—a manuscript?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little journal of Edward Percival’s, which he sent for the + entertainment of Helena.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour stretched out her hand for it. “The boy will write as like + his father as possible,” said she, turning over the leaves. “I wish to + have this poor girl with me—but I have no spirits. And you know, + whenever Lord Delacour can find a house that will suit us, we shall leave + town, and I could not take Helena with me. But this may be the last + opportunity I may ever have of seeing her; and I <i>can</i> refuse you + nothing, my dear. So will you go for her? She can stay with us a few days. + Lady Boucher, that most convenient dowager, who likes going about, no + matter where, all the morning, will go with you to Mrs. Dumont’s academy + in Sloane-street. I would as soon go to a bird-fancier’s as to a + boarding-school for young ladies: indeed, I am not well enough to go any + where. So I will throw myself upon a sofa, and read this child’s journal. + I wonder how that or any thing else can interest me now.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, who had been used to the variations of Lady Delacour’s spirits, + was not much alarmed by the despondent strain in which she now spoke, + especially when she considered that the thoughts of the dreadful trial + this unfortunate woman was soon to go through must naturally depress her + courage. Rejoiced at the permission that she had obtained to go for + Helena, Miss Portman sent immediately to Lady Boucher, who took her to + Sloane-street. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear, considerate Miss Portman,” said Lady Boucher, “I must beg, + and request that you will hurry Miss Delacour into the carriage as fast as + possible. I have not a moment to spare; for I am to be at a china auction + at two, that I would not miss for the whole world. Well, what’s the matter + with the people? Why does not James knock at the door? Can’t the man read? + Can’t the man see?” cried the purblind dowager. “Is not that Mrs. Dumont’s + name on the door before his eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am, I believe this name is Ellicot,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Ellicot, is it? Ay, true. But what’s the man stopping for, then? Mrs. + Dumont’s is the next door, tell the blind dunce. Mercy on us! To waste + one’s time in this way! I shall, as sure as fate, be too late for the + china auction. What upon earth stops us?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but a little covered cart, which stands at Mrs. Dumont’s door. + There, now it is going; an old man is drawing it out of the way as fast as + he can.” + </p> + <p> + “Open the coach-door, James!” cried Lady Boucher the moment that they had + drawn up. “Now, my dear, considerate Miss Portman, remember the auction, + and don’t let Miss Delacour stay to change her dress or any thing.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda promised not to detain her ladyship a minute. The door at Mrs. + Dumont’s was open, and a servant was assisting an old man to carry in some + geraniums and balsams out of the covered cart which had stopped the way. + In the hall a crowd of children were gathered round a high stand, on which + they were eagerly arranging their flower-pots; and the busy hum of voices + was so loud, that when Miss Portman first went in, she could neither hear + the servant, nor make him hear her name. Nothing was to be heard but “Oh, + how beautiful! Oh, how sweet! That’s mine! That’s yours! The great rose + geranium for Miss Jefferson! The white Provence rose for Miss Adderly! No, + indeed, Miss Pococke, that’s for Miss Delacour; the old man said so.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Silence, silence, mesdemoiselles!</i>” cried the voice of a French + woman, and all was silence. The little crowd looked towards the hall door; + and from the midst of her companions, Helena Delacour, who now caught a + glimpse of Belinda, sprang forward, throwing down her white Provence rose + as she passed. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Boucher’s compliments, ma’am,” said the servant to Mrs. Dumont; + “she’s in indispensable haste, and she begs you won’t let Miss Delacour + think of changing her dress.” + </p> + <p> + It was the last thing of which Miss Delacour was likely to think at this + instant. She was so much overjoyed, when she heard that Belinda was come + by her mamma’s desire to take her home, that she would scarcely stay + whilst Mrs. Dumont was tying on her straw hat, and exhorting her to let + Lady Delacour know how it happened that she was “so far from fit to be + seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am; yes, ma’am, I’ll remember; I’ll be sure to remember,” said + Helena, tripping down the steps. But just as she was getting into the + carriage she stopped at the sight of the old man, and exclaimed, “Oh, good + old man! I must not forget you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, you must, though, my dear Miss Delacour,” said Lady Boucher, + pulling her into the carriage: “‘tis no time to think of good old men + now.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must. Dear Miss Portman, will you speak for me? I must pay—I + must settle—and I have a great deal to say.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman desired the old man to call in Berkley-square at Lady + Delacour’s; and this satisfying all parties, they drove away. + </p> + <p> + When they arrived in Berkley-square, Marriott told them that her lady was + just gone to lie down. Edward Percival’s little journal, which she had + been reading, was left on the sofa, and Belinda gave it to Helena, who + eagerly began to look over it. + </p> + <p> + “Thirteen pages! Oh, how good he has been to write so much for me!” said + she; and she had almost finished reading it before her mother came into + the room. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour shrunk back as her daughter ran towards her; for she + recollected too well the agony she had once suffered from an embrace of + Helena’s. The little girl appeared more grieved than surprised at this; + and after kissing her mother’s hand, without speaking, she again looked + down at the manuscript. + </p> + <p> + “Does that engross your attention so entirely, my dear,” said Lady + Delacour, “that you can neither spare one word nor one look for your + mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma! I only tried to read, because I thought you were angry with + me.” + </p> + <p> + “An odd reason for trying to read, my dear!” said Lady Delacour with a + smile: “have you any better reason for thinking I was angry with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I know you are not angry now, for you smile,” said Helena; “but I + thought at first that you were, mamma, because you gave me only your hand + to kiss.” + </p> + <p> + “Only my hand! The next time, simpleton, I’ll give you only my foot to + kiss,” said her ladyship, sitting down, and holding out her foot + playfully. + </p> + <p> + Her daughter threw aside the book, and kneeling down kissed her foot, + saying, in a low voice, “Dear mamma, I never was so happy in my life; for + you never looked so very, <i>very</i> kindly at me before.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not judge always of the kindness people feel for you, child, by their + looks; and remember that it is <i>possible</i> a person might have felt + more than you could guess by their looks. Pray now, Helena, you are such a + good judge of physiognomy, should you guess that I was dying, by my + looks?” + </p> + <p> + The little girl laughed, and repeated “Dying? Oh, no, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! because I have such a fine colour in my cheeks, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for that reason, mamma,” said Helena, withdrawing her eyes from her + mother’s face. + </p> + <p> + “What, then you know rouge already when you see it?—You perceive + some difference, for instance, between Miss Portman’s colour and mine? + Upon my word, you are a nice observer. Such nice observers are sometimes + dangerous to have near one.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, mother,” said Helena, “that you do not think I would try to find + out any thing that you wish, or that I imagined you wished, I should not + know.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, child,” cried Lady Delacour, raising herself + suddenly upon the sofa, and looking full in her daughter’s face. + </p> + <p> + Helena’s colour rose to her temples; but, with a firmness that surprised + even Belinda, she repeated what she had said nearly in the same words. + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand her, Miss Portman?” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “She expresses, I think,” said Belinda, “a very honourable sentiment, and + one that is easily understood.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, in general, certainly,” said Lady Delacour, checking herself; “but I + thought that she meant to allude to something in particular—<i>that</i> + was what I did not understand. Undoubtedly, my dear, you have just + expressed a very honourable sentiment, and one that I should scarcely have + expected from a child of your age. + </p> + <p> + “Helena, my dear,” said her mother, after a silence of some minutes, “did + you ever read the Arabian Tales?—‘Yes, mamma,’ I know must be the + answer. But do you remember the story of Zobeide, who carried the porter + home with her on condition that, let him hear or see what he might, he + would ask no questions?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “On the same conditions should you like to stay with me for a few days?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. On any conditions, mamma, I should like to stay with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed, then, my dear!” said Lady Delacour. “Now let us go to the gold + fishes, and see them eat lemna, or whatever you please to call it.” + </p> + <p> + While they were looking at the gold fishes, the old man, who had been + desired by Miss Portman to call, arrived. “Who is this fine, gray-haired + old man?” said Lady Delacour. Helena, who did not know the share which + Belinda’s aunt and her own mother had in the transaction, began with great + eagerness to tell the history of the poor gardener, who had been cheated + by some fine ladies out of his aloe, &c. She then related how kind + Lady Anne Percival and her Aunt Margaret had been to him; that they had + gotten him a place as a gardener at Twickenham; and that he had pleased + the family to whom he was recommended so much by his good behaviour, that, + as they were leaving their house, and obliged to part with him, they had + given him all the geraniums and balsams out of the green-house of which he + had the care, and these he had been this day selling to the young ladies + at Mrs. Dumont’s. “I received the money for him, and I was just going to + pay him,” said Helena, “when Miss Portman came; and that put every thing + else out of my head. May I go and give him his money now, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “He can wait a few minutes,” said Lady Delacour, who had listened to this + story with much embarrassment and impatience. “Before you go, Helena, + favour us with the names of <i>the fine ladies who cheated</i> this old + gardener out of his aloe.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, mamma, I don’t know their names.” + </p> + <p> + “No!—Did you never ask Lady Anne Percival, or your aunt Margaret?—Look + in my face, child! Did they never inform you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am, never. I once asked Lady Anne, and she said that she did not + choose to tell me; that it would be of no use to me to know.” + </p> + <p> + “I give Lady Anne Percival more credit and more thanks for this,” cried + Lady Delacour, “than for all the rest. I see she has not attempted to + lower me in my child’s opinion. I am the fine lady, Helena—I was the + cause of his being cheated—I was intent upon <i>the noble end</i> of + outshining a certain Mrs. Luttridge—the <i>noble means</i> I left to + others, and the means have proved worthy of the end. I deserve to be + brought to shame for my folly; yet my being ashamed will do nobody any + good but myself. Restitution is in these cases the best proof of + repentance. Go, Helena, my love! settle your little affairs with this old + man, and bid him call here again to-morrow. I will see what we can do for + him.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour had this very morning sent home to her ladyship a handsome + diamond ring, which had been intended as a present for Mrs. Luttridge, and + which he imagined would therefore be peculiarly acceptable to his lady. In + the evening, when his lordship asked her how she liked the ring, which he + desired the jeweller to leave for her to look at it, she answered, that it + was a handsome ring, but that she hoped he had not purchased it for her. + </p> + <p> + “It is not actually bought, my dear,” said his lordship; “but if it suits + your fancy, I hope you will do me the honour to wear it for my sake.” + </p> + <p> + “I will wear it for your sake, my lord,” said Lady Delacour, “if you + desire it; and as a mark of your regard it is agreeable: but as to the + rest— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘My taste for diamonds now is o’er, + The sparkling baubles please no more.’ +</pre> + <p> + If you wish to do me a kindness, I will tell you what I should like much + better than diamonds, though I know it is rather ungracious to dictate the + form and fashion of a favour. But as my dictatorship in all human + probability cannot last much longer—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear Lady Delacour! I must not hear you talk in this manner: your + dictatorship, as you call it, will I hope last many, many happy years. But + to the point—what should you like better, my dear, than this foolish + ring?” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship then expressed her wish that a small annuity might be settled + upon a poor old man, whom she said she had unwittingly injured. She told + the story of the rival galas and the aloe, and concluded by observing, + that her lord was in some measure called upon to remedy part of the + unnumbered ills which had sprung from her hatred of Mrs. Luttridge, as he + had originally been the cause of her unextinguishable ire. Lord Delacour + was flattered by this hint, and the annuity was immediately promised to + the old gardener. + </p> + <p> + In talking to this old man afterward, Lady Delacour found, that the family + in whose service he lately lived had a house at Twickenham that would just + answer her purpose. Lord Delacour’s inquiries had hitherto been + unsuccessful; he was rejoiced to find what he wanted just as he was giving + up the search. The house was taken, and the old man hired as gardener—a + circumstance which seemed to give him almost as much pleasure as the + annuity; for there was a morello cherry-tree in the garden which had + succeeded the aloe in his affection: “it would have grieved him sorely,” + he said, “to leave his favourite tree to strangers, after all the pains he + had been at <i>in netting</i> it to keep off the birds.” + </p> + <p> + As the period approached when her fate was to be decided, Lady Delacour’s + courage seemed to rise; and at the same time her anxiety, that her secret + should not be discovered, appeared to increase. + </p> + <p> + “If I survive <i>this business</i>,” said she, “it is my firm intention to + appear in a new character, or rather to assert my real character. I will + break through the spell of dissipation—I will at once cast off all + the acquaintance that are unworthy of me—I will, in one word, go + with you, my dear Belinda, to Mr. Percival’s. I can bear to be mortified + for my good; and I am willing, since I find that Lady Anne Percival has + behaved generously to me, with regard to Helena’s affections, I am willing + that the recovery of my moral health should be attributed to the + salubrious air of Oakly-park. But it would be inexpressible, intolerable + mortification to me, to have it said or suspected in the world of fashion, + that I retreated from the ranks disabled instead of disgusted. A voluntary + retirement is graceful and dignified; a forced retreat is awkward and + humiliating. You must be sensible that I could not endure to have it + whispered—‘Lady Delacour now sets up for being a prude, because she + can no longer be a coquette.’ Lady Delacour would become the subject of + witticisms, epigrams, caricatures without end. It would just be the very + thing for Mrs. Luttridge; then she would revenge herself without mercy for + <i>the ass and her panniers</i>. We should have ‘Lord and Lady D——, + or the Domestic Tête-à-tête,’ or ‘The Reformed Amazon,’ stuck up in a + print-shop window! Oh, my dear, think of seeing such a thing! I should die + with vexation; and of all deaths, that is the death I should like the + least.” + </p> + <p> + Though Belinda could not entirely enter into those feelings, which thus + made Lady Delacour invent wit against herself, and anticipate caricatures; + yet she did every thing in her power to calm her ladyship’s apprehension + of a discovery. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Lady Delacour, “I have perfect confidence in Lord + Delacour’s promise, and in his good-nature, of which he has within these + few days given me proofs that are not lost upon my heart; but he is not + the most discreet man in the world. Whenever he is anxious about any + thing, you may read it a mile off in his eyes, nose, mouth, and chin. And + to tell you all my fears in one word, Marriott informed me this morning, + that <i>the Luttridge</i>, who came from Harrowgate to Rantipole, to meet + Lord Delacour, finding that there was no drawing him to her, has actually + brought herself to town. + </p> + <p> + “To town!—At this strange time of year! How will my lord resist this + unequivocal, unprecedented proof of passion? If she catch hold of him + again, I am undone. Or, even suppose him firm as a rock, her surprise, her + jealousy, her curiosity, will set all engines at work, to find out by what + witchcraft I have taken my husband from her. Every precaution that + prudence could devise against her malicious curiosity I have taken. + Marriott, you know, is above all temptation. That vile wretch (naming the + person whose quack medicines had nearly destroyed her), that vile wretch + will be silent from fear, for his own sake. He is yet to be paid and + dismissed. That should have been done long ago, but I had not money both + for him and Mrs. Franks the milliner. She is now paid: and Lord Delacour—I + am glad to tell his friend how well he deserves her good opinion—Lord + Delacour in the handsomest manner supplied me with the means of satisfying + this man. He is to be here at three o’clock to-day; and this is the last + interview he will ever have with Lady Delacour in <i>the mysterious + boudoir</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The fears which her ladyship expressed of Mrs. Luttridge’s malicious + curiosity were not totally without foundation. Champfort was at work for + her and for himself. The memorable night of Lady Delacour’s overturn, and + the bustle that Marriott made about the key of the boudoir, were still + fresh in his memory; and he was in hopes that, if he could discover the + mystery, he should at once regain his power over Lord Delacour, reinstate + himself in his lucrative place, and obtain a handsome reward, or, more + properly speaking, bribe, from Mrs. Luttridge. The means of obtaining + information of all that passed in Lady Delacour’s family were, he thought, + still in his power, though he was no longer an inmate of the house. The <i>stupid + maid</i> was not so stupid as to be impenetrable to the voice of flattery, + or, as Mr. Champfort called it, the voice of love. He found it his + interest to court, and she her pleasure to be courted. On these “coquettes + of the <i>second</i> table,” on these underplots in the drama, much of the + comedy, and some of the tragedy, of life depend. Under the unsuspected + mask of stupidity this worthy mistress of our intriguing valet-de-chambre + concealed the quick ears of a listener, and the demure eyes of a spy. + Long, however, did she listen, and long did she spy in vain, till at last + Mr. Champfort gave her notice in writing that his love would not last + another week, unless she could within that time contrive to satisfy his + curiosity; and that, in short, she <i>must</i> find out the reason why the + boudoir was always locked, and why Mrs. Marriott alone was to be trusted + with the key. Now it happened that this billet-doux was received on the + very day appointed for Lady Delacour’s last interview with the quack + surgeon in the mysterious boudoir. Marriott, as it was her custom upon + such occasions, let the surgeon in, and showed him up the back stairs into + the boudoir, locked the door, and bade him wait there till her lady came. + The man had not been punctual to the hour appointed; and Lady Delacour, + giving up all expectation of his coming till the next day, had retired to + her bedchamber, where she of late usually at this hour secluded herself to + read methodistical books, or to sleep. Marriott, when she went up to let + her lady know that <i>the person</i>, as she always called him, was come, + found her so fast asleep that she thought it a pity to waken her, as she + had not slept at all the preceding night. She shut the door very softly, + and left her lady to repose. At the bottom of the stairs she was met by <i>the + stupid maid</i>, whom she immediately despatched with orders to wash some + lace: “Your lady’s asleep,” said she, “and pray let me have no running up + and down stairs.” The room into which the stupid maid went was directly + underneath the boudoir; and whilst she was there she thought that she + heard the steps of a man’s foot walking over head. She listened more + attentively—she heard them again. She armed herself with a glass of + jelly in her hand, <i>for my lady</i>, and hurried up stairs instantly to + <i>my lady’s</i> room. She was much surprised to see my lady fast asleep. + Her astonishment at finding that Mrs. Marriott had told her the truth was + such, as for a moment to bereave her of all presence of mind, and she + stood with the door ajar in her hand. As thus she stood she was roused by + the sound of some one clearing his throat very softly in the boudoir—<i>his</i> + throat; for she recollected the footsteps she had heard before, and she + was convinced it could be no other than a masculine throat. She listened + again, and stooped down to try whether any feet could be seen under the + door. As she was in this attitude, her lady suddenly turned on her bed, + and the book which she had been reading fell from the pillow to the floor + with a noise, that made the listener start up instantaneously in great + terror. The noise, however, did not waken Lady Delacour, who was in that + dead sleep which is sometimes the effect of opium. The noise was louder + than what could have been made by the fall of a book alone, and the girl + descried a key that had fallen along with the book. It occurred to her + that this might possibly be the key of the boudoir. From one of those + irresistible impulses which some people make an excuse for doing whatever + they please, she seized it, resolved at all hazards to open the mysterious + door. She was cautiously putting the key into the key-hole, so as not to + make the least noise, when she was suddenly startled by a voice behind + her, which said, “Who gave you leave to open that door?” + </p> + <p> + She turned, and saw Helena standing at the half open bedchamber door. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy, Miss Delacour! who thought of seeing you? For God’s sake, don’t + make a noise to waken my lady!” + </p> + <p> + “Did my mother desire you to go into that room?” repeated Helena. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! no, miss,” said the maid, putting on her stupid face; “but I + only thought to open the door, to let in a little air to freshen the room, + which my lady always likes, and bids me to do—and I thought—” + </p> + <p> + Helena took the key gently from her hand without listening to any more of + her thoughts, and the woman left the room muttering something about <i>jelly</i> + and <i>my lady</i>, Helena went to the side of her mother’s bed, + determined to wait there till she awakened, then to give her the key, and + tell her the circumstance. Notwithstanding the real simplicity of this + little girl’s character, she was, as her mother had discovered, <i>a nice + observer</i>, and she had remarked that her mother permitted no one but + Marriott to go into the boudoir. This remark did not excite her to dive + into the mystery: on the contrary, she carefully repressed all curiosity, + remembering the promise she had given to her mother when she talked of + Zobeide and the porter. She had not been without temptation to break this + promise; for the maid who usually attended her toilette had employed every + art in her power to stimulate her curiosity. As she was dressing Helena + this morning, she had said to her, “The reason I was so late calling you, + miss, this morning, was because I was so late myself last night; for I + went to the play, miss, last night, which was Bluebeard. Lord bless us! + I’m sure, if I had been Bluebeard’s wife, I should have opened the door, + if I’d died for it; for to have the notion of living all day long, and all + night too, in a house in which there was a room that one was never to go + into, is a thing I could not put up with.” Then after a pause, and after + waiting in vain for some reply from Helena, she added, “Pray, Miss + Delacour, did you ever go into that little room within my lady’s + bedchamber, that Mrs. Marriott keeps the key of always?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Helena. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve often wondered what’s in it: but then that’s only because I’m a + simpleton. I thought to be sure, <i>you</i> knew.” + </p> + <p> + Observing that Helena looked much displeased, she broke off her speech, + hoping that what she had said would operate in due time, and that she + should thus excite the young lady to get the secret from Marriott, which + she had no doubt afterward of <i>worming</i> from Miss Delacour. + </p> + <p> + In all this she calculated ill; for what she had said only made Helena + distrust and dislike her. It was the recollection of this conversation + that made her follow the maid to her mother’s bedchamber, to see what + detained her there so long. Helena had heard Marriott say, that “she ought + not to run up and down stairs, because her lady was asleep,” and it + appeared extraordinary that but a few minutes after this information she + should have gone into the room with a glass of jelly in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, mamma!” thought Helena, as she stood beside her mother’s bed, “you + did not understand, and perhaps you did not believe me, when I said that I + would not try to find out any thing that you wished me not to know. Now I + hope you will <i>understand</i> me better.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour opened her eyes: “Helena,” cried she, starting up, “how came + you by that key?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother! don’t look as if you suspected me.” She then told her mother + how the key came into her hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, you have done me an essential service,” said Lady + Delacour: “you know not its importance, at least in my estimation. But + what gives me infinitely more satisfaction, you have proved yourself + worthy of my esteem—my love.” + </p> + <p> + Marriott came into the room, and whispered a few words to her lady. + </p> + <p> + “You may speak out, Marriott, before my Helena,” said Lady Delacour, + rising from the bed as she spoke: “child as she is, Helena has deserved my + confidence; and she shall be convinced that, where her mother has once + reason to confide, she is incapable of suspicion. Wait here for a few + minutes, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + She went to her boudoir, paid and dismissed the surgeon expeditiously, + then returned, and taking her daughter by the hand, she said, “You look + all simplicity, my dear! I see you have no vulgar, school-girl curiosity. + You will have all your mother’s strength of mind; may you never have any + of her faults, or any of her misfortunes! I speak to you not as to a + child, Helena, for you have reason far above your years; and you will + remember what I now say to you as long as you live. You will possess + talents, beauty, fortune; you will be admired, followed, and flattered, as + I have been: but do not throw away your life as I have thrown away mine—to + win the praise of fools. Had I used but half the talents I possess, as I + hope you will use yours, I might have been an ornament to my sex—I + might have been a Lady Anne Percival.” + </p> + <p> + Here Lady Delacour’s voice failed; but commanding her emotion, she in a + few moments went on speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Choose your friends well, my dear daughter! It was my misfortune, my + folly, early in life to connect myself with a woman, who under the name of + frolic led me into every species of mischief. You are too young, too + innocent, to hear the particulars of my history now; but you will hear + them all at a proper time from my best friend, Miss Portman. I shall leave + you to her care, my dear, when I die.” + </p> + <p> + “When you die!—Oh, mother!” said Helena, “but why do you talk of + dying?” and she threw her arms round her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Gently, my love!” said Lady Delacour, shrinking back; and she seized this + moment to explain to her daughter why she shrunk in this manner from her + caresses, and why she talked of dying. + </p> + <p> + Helena was excessively shocked. + </p> + <p> + “I wished, my dear,” resumed her mother, calmly, “I wished to have spared + you the pain of knowing all this. I have given you but little pleasure in + my life; it is unjust to give you so much pain. We shall go to Twickenham + to-morrow, and I will leave you with your Aunt Margaret, my dear, till all + is over. If I die, Belinda will take you with her immediately to + Oakly-park—you shall have as little sorrow as possible. If you had + shown me less of your affectionate temper, you would have spared yourself + the anguish that you now feel, and you would have spared me—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, kind mother,” interrupted Helena, throwing herself on her knees + at her mother’s feet, “do not send me away from you—I don’t wish to + go to my Aunt Margaret—I don’t wish to go to Oakly-park—I wish + to stay with you. Do not send me away from you; for I shall suffer ten + times more if I am not with you, though I know I can be of no use.” + </p> + <p> + Overcome by her daughter’s entreaties, Lady Delacour at last consented + that she should remain with her, and that she should accompany her to + Twickenham. + </p> + <p> + The remainder of this day was taken up in preparations for their + departure. The <i>stupid maid</i> was immediately dismissed. No questions + were asked, and no reasons for her dismissal assigned, except that Lady + Delacour had no farther occasion for her services. Marriott alone was to + attend her lady to Twickenham. Lord Delacour, it was settled, should stay + in town, lest the unusual circumstance of his attending his lady should + excite public curiosity. His lordship, who was naturally a good-natured + man, and who had been touched by the kindness his wife had lately shown + him, was in extreme agitation during the whole of this day, which he + thought might possibly be the last of her existence. She, on the contrary, + was calm and collected; her courage seemed to rise with the necessity for + its exertion. + </p> + <p> + In the morning, when the carriage came to the door, as she parted with + Lord Delacour, she put into his hand a paper that contained some + directions and requests with which, she said, she hoped that he would + comply, if they should prove to be her <i>last</i>. The paper contained + only some legacies to her servants, a provision for Marriott, and a + bequest to her excellent and beloved friend, Belinda Portman, of the + cabinet in which she kept Clarence Hervey’s letters. + </p> + <p> + Interlined in this place, Lady Delacour had written these words: “My + daughter is nobly provided for; and lest any doubt or difficulty should + arise from the omission, I think it necessary to mention that the said + cabinet contains the valuable jewels left to me by my late uncle, and that + it is my intention that the said jewels should be part of my bequest to + the said Belinda Portman.—If she marry a man of good fortune, she + will wear them for my sake: if she do not marry an opulent husband, I hope + she will sell the jewels without scruple, as they are intended for her + convenience, and not as an ostentatious bequest. It is fit that she should + be as independent in her circumstances as she is in her mind.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour with much emotion looked over this paper, and assured her + ladyship that she should be obeyed, if—he could say no more. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, then, my lord!” said she: “keep up your spirits, for I intend + to live many years yet to try them.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. — A SPECTRE. + </h2> + <p> + The surgeon who was to attend Lady Delacour was prevented from going to + her on the day appointed; he was one of the surgeons of the queen’s + household, and his attendance was required at the palace. This delay was + extremely irksome to Lady Delacour, who had worked up her courage to the + highest point, but who had not prepared herself to endure suspense. She + spent nearly a week at Twickenham in this anxious state, and Belinda + observed that she every day became more and more thoughtful and reserved. + She seemed as if she had some secret subject of meditation, from which she + could not bear to be distracted. When Helena was present, she exerted + herself to converse in her usual sprightly strain; but as soon as she + could escape, as she thought, unobserved, she would shut herself up in her + own apartment, and remain there for hours. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to Heaven, Miss Portman,” said Marriott, coming one morning into + her room with a portentous face, “I wish to Heaven, ma’am, that you could + any way persuade my lady not to spend so many hours of the day and night + as she does in reading those methodistical books that she keeps to + herself!—I’m sure that they do her no good, but a great deal of + harm, especially now when her spirits should be kept up as much as + possible. I am sensible, ma’am, that ‘tis those books that have made my + lady melancholy of a sudden. Ma’am, my lady has let drop very odd hints + within these two or three days, and she speaks in a strange <i>disconnected</i> + sort of style, and at times I do not think she is quite right in her + head.” + </p> + <p> + When Belinda questioned Marriott more particularly about the strange hints + which her lady had let fall, she with looks of embarrassment and horror + declined repeating the words that had been said to her; yet persisted in + asserting that Lady Delacour had been very <i>strange</i> for these two or + three days. “And I’m sure, ma’am, you’d be shocked if you were to see my + lady in a morning, when she wakens, or rather when I first go into the + room—for, as to wakening, that’s out of the question. I am certain + she does not sleep during the whole night. You’ll find, ma’am, it is as I + tell you, those books will quite turn her poor head, and I wish they were + burnt. I know the mischief that the same sort of things did to a poor + cousin of my own, who was driven melancholy mad by a methodist preacher, + and came to an untimely end. Oh, ma’am! if you knew as much as I do, you’d + be as much alarmed for my lady as I am.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to prevail upon Marriott to explain herself more + distinctly. The only circumstances that could be drawn from her seemed to + Belinda so trifling as to be scarcely worth mentioning. For instance, that + Lady Delacour, contrary to Marriott’s advice, had insisted on sleeping in + a bedchamber upon the ground floor, and had refused to let a curtain be + put up before a glass door that was at the foot of her bed. “When I + offered to put up the curtain, ma’am,” said Marriott, “my lady said she + liked the moonlight, and that she would not have it put up till the fine + nights were over. Now, Miss Portman, to hear my lady talk of the moon, and + moonlights, and liking the moon, is rather extraordinary and + unaccountable; for I never heard her say any thing of the sort in her life + before; I question whether she ever knew there was a moon or not from one + year’s end to another. But they say the moon has a great deal to do with + mad people; and, from my own experience, I’m perfectly sensible, ma’am, it + had in my own cousin’s case; for, before he came to the worst, he took a + prodigious fancy to the moon, and was always for walking by moonlight, and + talking to one of the beauty of the moon, and such melancholy nonsense, + ma’am.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda could not forbear smiling at this melancholy nonsense; though she + was inclined to be of Marriott’s opinion about the methodistical books, + and she determined to talk to Lady Delacour on the subject. The moment + that she made the attempt, her ladyship, commanding her countenance, with + her usual ability, replied only by cautious, cold monosyllables, and + changed the conversation as soon as she could. + </p> + <p> + At night, when they were retiring to rest, Marriott, as she lighted them + to their rooms, observed that she was afraid her lady would suffer from + sleeping in so cold a bedchamber, and Belinda pressed her friend to change + her apartment. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear,” replied Lady Delacour, calmly. “I have chosen this for my + bedchamber, because it is at a distance from the servants’ rooms; and when + <i>the operation</i>, which I have to go through, shall be performed, my + cries, if I should utter any, will not be overheard. The surgeon will be + here in a few days, and it is not worth while to make any change.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, towards evening, the surgeon and Dr. X—— + arrived. Belinda’s blood ran cold at the sight of them. + </p> + <p> + “Will you be so kind, Miss Portman,” said Marriott, “as to let my lady + know that they are come? for I am not well able to go, and you can speak + more composed to her than I can.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman went to Lady Delacour’s bedchamber. The door was bolted. As + Lady Delacour opened it, she fixed her eyes upon Belinda, and said to her + with a mild voice, “You are come to tell me that the surgeon is arrived. I + knew that by the manner in which you knocked at the door. I will see him + this moment,” continued she, in a firm tone; and she deliberately put a + mark in the book which she had been reading, walked leisurely to the other + end of the room, and locked it up in her book-case. There was an air of + determined dignity in all her motions. “Shall we go? I am ready,” said + she, holding out her hand to Belinda, who had sunk upon a chair. + </p> + <p> + “One would think that you were the person that was going to suffer. But + drink this water, my dear, and do not tremble for me; you see that I do + not tremble for myself. Listen to me, dearest Belinda! I owe it to your + friendship not to torment you with unnecessary apprehensions. Your + humanity shall be spared this dreadful scene.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Belinda, “Marriott is incapable of attending you. I must—I + will—I am ready now. Forgive me one moment’s weakness. I admire, and + will imitate, your courage. I will keep my promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Your promise was to be with me in my dying moments, and to let me breathe + my last in your arms.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that I shall never be called upon to perform that promise.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour made no answer, but walked on before her with steady steps + into the room where Dr. X—— and the surgeon were waiting. + Without adverting in the least to the object of their visit, she paid her + compliments to them, as if they came on a visit of mere civility. Without + seeming to notice the serious countenances of her companions, she talked + of indifferent subjects with the most perfect ease, occupying herself all + the time with cleaning a seal, which she unhooked from her watch-chain. + “This seal,” said she, turning to Dr. X——, “is a fine onyx—it + is a head of Esculapius. I have a great value for it. It was given to me + by your friend, Clarence Hervey; and I have left it in my will, doctor,” + continued she, smiling, “to you, as no slight token of my regard. He is an + excellent young man; and I request,” said she, drawing Dr. X—— + to a window, and lowering her voice, “I request, when you see him again, + and when I am out of the way, that you will tell him such were my + sentiments to the hour of my death. Here is a letter which you will have + the goodness to put into his hands, sealed with my favourite seal. You + need have no scruple to take charge of it; it relates not to myself. It + expresses only my opinion concerning a lady who stands almost as high in + your esteem, I believe, as she does in mine. My affection and my gratitude + have not biassed my judgment in the advice which I have ventured to give + to Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “But he will soon be here,” interrupted Dr. X——, “and then—” + </p> + <p> + “And then I shall be gone,” said Lady Delacour, coolly, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘To that undiscover’d country, + From whose bourn no traveller returns.’” + </pre> + <p> + Dr. X—— was going to interrupt her, but she continued rapidly, + “And now, my dear doctor, tell me candidly, have you seen any symptoms of + cowardice in my manner this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” replied he. “On the contrary, I have admired your calm + self-possession.” + </p> + <p> + “Then do not suspect me of want of fortitude, when I request that this + operation may not be performed to-day. I have changed my mind within these + few hours. I have determined, for a reason which I am sure that you would + feel to be sufficient, to postpone this affair till to-morrow. Believe me, + I do not act from caprice.” + </p> + <p> + She saw that Dr. X—— did not yield assent to her last + assertion, and that he looked displeased. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you my reason,” said she; “and then you will have no right to + be displeased if I persist, as I shall inflexibly, in my determination. It + is my belief that I shall die this night. To submit to a painful operation + to-day would be only to sacrifice the last moments of my existence to no + purpose. If I survive this night, manage me as you please! But I am the + best judge of my own feelings—I shall die to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. X—— looked at her with a mixture of astonishment and + compassion. Her pulse was high, she was extremely feverish, and he thought + that the best thing which he could do was to stay with her till the next + day, and to endeavour to divert her mind from this fancy, which he + considered as an insane idea. He prevailed upon the surgeon to stay with + her till the next morning; and he communicated his intentions to Belinda, + who joined with him in doing all that was possible to entertain and + interest her by conversation during the remainder of the day. She had + sufficient penetration to perceive that they gave not the least faith to + her prognostic, and she never said one word more upon the subject; but + appeared willing to be amused by their attempts to divert her, and + resolute to support her courage to the last moment. She did not affect + trifling gaiety: on the contrary, there was in all she said more strength + and less point than usual. + </p> + <p> + The evening passed away, and Lady Delacour seemed totally to have + forgotten her own prophecy respecting the event of the ensuing night; so + much so, that she spoke of several things that she intended to do the next + day. Helena knew nothing of what had passed, and Belinda imagined that her + friend put this constraint upon herself to avoid alarming her daughter. + Yet, after Helena retired, her mother’s manner continued to be so much the + same, that Dr. X—— began to believe that her ladyship was + actuated merely by caprice. In this opinion she confirmed him by bursting + out a laughing when he proposed that some one should sit up with her + during the night. + </p> + <p> + “My sage sir,” said she, “have you lived to this time without ever having + been duped by a woman before? I wanted a day’s reprieve, and I have gained + it—gained a day, spent in most agreeable conversation, for which I + thank you. To-morrow,” said she, turning to the surgeon, “I must invent + some new excuse for my cowardice; and though I give you notice of it + beforehand, as Harrington did when he picked the man’s pocket, yet, + nevertheless, I shall succeed. Good night!” + </p> + <p> + She hurried to her own apartment, leaving them all in astonishment and + perplexity. Belinda was persuaded that she only affected this gaiety to + prevent Dr. X—— from insisting upon sitting up in her room, as + he had proposed. Doctor X——, judging, as he said, from her + ladyship’s general character, attributed the whole to caprice; and the + surgeon, judging, as he said, from human nature in general, was decided in + his belief that she had been influenced, as she herself declared, by + cowardice. After having all expressed their opinions, without making any + impression upon one another, they retired to rest. + </p> + <p> + Belinda’s bedchamber was next to Helena’s; and after she had been in bed + about an hour, she fancied that she heard some one walking softly in the + next room. She rose, and found Lady Delacour standing beside her + daughter’s bed. She started at the sight of Belinda, but only said in a + low voice, as she pointed to her child, “Don’t waken her.” She then looked + at her for some moments in silence. The moon shone full upon her face. She + stooped over Helena, parted the ringlets of hair upon her forehead, and + kissed her gently. + </p> + <p> + “You will be good to this poor girl when I am gone, Belinda!” said she, + turning away from her as she spoke: “I only came to look at her for the + last time.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you then serious, my dear Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Don’t waken her,” said Lady Delacour, putting her finger on her + lips; and walking slowly out of the room, she forbade Belinda to follow. + </p> + <p> + “If my fears be vain,” said she, “why should I disturb you with them? If + they be just, you will hear my bell ring, and then come to me.” + </p> + <p> + For some time afterward all was perfectly silent in the house. Belinda did + not go to bed, but sat waiting and listening anxiously. The clock struck + two; and as she heard no other sound, she began to hope that she had + suffered herself to be falsely alarmed by a foolish imagination, and she + lay down upon her bed, resolving to compose herself to rest. She was just + sinking to sleep, when she thought she heard the faint sound of a bell. + She was not sure whether she was dreaming or awake. She started up and + listened. All was silent. But in a few minutes Lady Delacour’s bell rang + violently. Belinda flew to her room. The surgeon was already there; he had + been sitting up in the next room to write letters, and he had heard the + first sound of the bell. Lady Delacour was senseless, supported in the + surgeon’s arms. Belinda, by his directions, ran immediately for Doctor X——, + who was at the other end of the house. Before she returned, Lady Delacour + had recovered her senses. She begged that the surgeon would leave the + room, and that neither Dr. X—— nor Marriott might be yet + admitted, as she had something of importance to communicate to Miss + Portman. The surgeon withdrew, and she beckoned to Belinda, who sat down + upon the side of her bed. Lady Delacour held out her hand to her; it was + covered with a cold dew. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” said she, “my prophecy is accomplishing—I know I + must die.” + </p> + <p> + “The surgeon said that you were not in the least danger, my dear Lady + Delacour; that it was merely a fainting fit. Do not suffer a vain + imagination thus to overpower your reason.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no vain imagination—I must die,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I hear a voice you cannot hear, + Which says I must not stay; + I see a hand you cannot see, + Which beckons me away.’ +</pre> + <p> + “You perceive that I am in my perfect senses, my dear, or I could not + quote poetry. I am not insane—I am not delirious.” + </p> + <p> + She paused—“I am ashamed to tell you what I know will expose me to + your ridicule.” + </p> + <p> + “Ridicule!” cried Belinda: “can you think me so cruel as to consider your + sufferings a subject for ridicule?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour was overcome by the tenderness with which Belinda spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I will then speak to you,” said she, “without reserve. Inconsistent as it + is with the strength of mind which you might expect from me, I cannot + resist the impression which has been made on my mind by—a vision.” + </p> + <p> + “A vision!” + </p> + <p> + “Three times,” continued Lady Delacour, “it has appeared to me about this + hour. The first night after we came here I saw it; last night it returned; + and to-night I have beheld it for the third time. I consider it as a + warning to prepare for death. You are surprised—you are incredulous. + I know that this must appear to you extravagant; but depend upon it that + what I tell you is true. It is scarcely a quarter of an hour since I + beheld the figure of ——, that man for whose untimely death I + am answerable. Whenever I close my eyes the same form appears before me.” + </p> + <p> + “These visions,” said Belinda, “are certainly the effects of opium.” + </p> + <p> + “The forms that flit before my eyes when I am between sleeping and + waking,” said Lady Delacour, “I am willing to believe, are the effects of + opium; but, Belinda, it is impossible I should be convinced that my senses + have deceived me with respect to what I have beheld when I have been as + broad awake, and in as perfect possession of my understanding as I am at + this instant. The habits of my life, and the natural gaiety, not to say + levity, of my temper, have always inclined me rather to incredulity than + to superstition. But there are things which no strength of mind, no + temerity can resist. I repeat it—this is a warning to me to prepare + for death. No human means, no human power can save me!” + </p> + <p> + Here they were interrupted by Marriott, who could no longer be restrained + from bursting into the room. Dr. X—— followed, and going + calmly to the side of Lady Delacour’s bed, took her hand to feel her + pulse. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Marriott, you need not alarm yourself in this manner,” said he: + “your lady is at this instant in as little danger as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> think she’ll live! Oh, my lady! why did you terrify us in this + manner?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour smiled, and calmly said, as Doctor X—— still + continued to count her pulse, “The pulse may deceive you, doctor, but I do + not. Marriott, you may—” + </p> + <p> + Belinda heard no more; for at this instant, as she was standing alone, + near the glass-door that was opposite to the bed, she saw at a distance in + the garden the figure which Lady Delacour had described. Lady Delacour was + now so intent upon speaking to Dr. X——, that she saw nothing + but him. Belinda had the presence of mind to be perfectly silent. The + figure stood still for some moments. She advanced a few steps nearer to + the window, and the figure vanished. She kept her eye steadily fixed upon + the spot where it had disappeared, and she saw it rise again and glide + quickly behind some bushes. Belinda beckoned to Dr. X——, who + perceived by the eagerness of her manner, that she wished to speak to him + immediately. He resigned his patient to Marriott, and followed Miss + Portman out of the room. She told him what she had just seen, said it was + of the utmost consequence to Lady Delacour to have the truth ascertained, + and requested that Dr. X——would go with some of the + men-servants and search the garden, to discover whether any one was there + concealed, or whether any footsteps could be traced. The doctor did not + search long before he perceived footsteps in the borders opposite to the + glass-door of Lady Delacour’s bedchamber; he was carefully following their + track, when he heard a loud cry, which seemed to come from the other side + of the garden wall. There was a breach in the wall over which he scrambled + with some difficulty. The screams continued with redoubled violence. As he + was making his way to the spot from which they proceeded, he was met by + the old gardener, who was crossing one of the walks with a lantern in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ho! ho!” cried the gardener, “I take it that we have the thief at last. I + fancy that the fellow whose footsteps I traced, and who has been at my + morello cherry-tree every night, has been caught in the trap. I hope his + leg is not broke, though!-This way, sir—this way!” + </p> + <p> + The gardener led the doctor to the place, and there they found a man, + whose leg had actually been caught in the spring-trap which had been set + for the defence of the cherry-tree. The man had by this time fallen into a + swoon; they extricated him as fast as possible, and Doctor X—— + had him brought to Lady Delacour’s, in order that the surgeon, who was + there, might see his leg. + </p> + <p> + As they were carrying him across the hall, Belinda met them. She poured + out a glass of water for the man, who was just recovering from his swoon; + but as she went nearer to give it him, she was struck with his wonderful + resemblance to Harriot Freke. + </p> + <p> + “It must be Mrs. Freke herself!” whispered she to Marriott, whose wide + opening eyes, at this instant, fixed themselves upon her. + </p> + <p> + “It must be Mrs. Freke herself, ma’am!” repeated Marriott. + </p> + <p> + And so in fact it was. + </p> + <p> + There is a certain class of people, who are incapable of generous + confidence in their equals, but who are disposed to yield implicit credit + to the underhand information of mean emissaries. Through the medium of + Champfort and the <i>stupid maid</i>, Mrs. Freke had learned a confused + story of a man’s footsteps having been heard in Lady Delacour’s boudoir, + of his being let in by Marriott secretly, of his having remained locked up + there for several hours, and of the maid’s having been turned away, merely + because she innocently went to open the door whilst the gentleman was in + concealment. Mrs. Freke was farther informed by the same unquestionable + authority, that Lady Delacour had taken a house at Twickenham, for the + express purpose of meeting her lover: that Miss Portman and Marriott were + the only persons who were to be of this party of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Upon the faith of this intelligence, Mrs. Freke, who had accompanied Mrs. + Luttridge to town, immediately repaired to Twickenham, to pay a visit to a + third cousin, that she might have an opportunity of detecting the + intrigues, and afterwards of publishing the disgrace, of her former + friend. The desire of revenging herself upon Miss Portman, for having + declined her civilities at Harrowgate, had also a powerful influence in + stimulating her malicious activity. She knew that if it were proved that + Belinda was the confidante of Lady Delacour’s intrigues, her reputation + must be materially injured, and that the Percivals would then be as + desirous to break off as they now were anxious to promote the match with + Mr. Vincent. Charmed with this hope of a double triumph, the vindictive + lady commenced her operations, nor was she ashamed to descend to the + character of a spy. The general and convenient name of <i>frolic</i>, she + thought, would cover every species of meanness. She swore that “it was + charming fun to equip herself at night in men’s clothes, and to sally + forth to reconnoitre the motions of the enemy.” + </p> + <p> + By an unfrequented path she used to gain the window that looked into Lady + Delacour’s bedchamber. This was the figure which appeared at night at a + certain hour, and which, to her ladyship’s disturbed imagination, seemed + to be the form of Colonel Lawless. There was, indeed, a resemblance in + their size and persons, which favoured the delusion. For several nights + Mrs. Freke paid these visits without obtaining any satisfaction; but this + night she thought herself overpaid for her exertions, by the charming + discovery which she fancied she had made. She mistook the surgeon for a + lover of Lady Delacour’s; and she was hurrying home with the joyful + intelligence, when she was caught in the gardener’s trap. The agony that + she suffered was at first intense, but in a few hours the pain somewhat + subsided; and in this interval of rest she turned to Belinda, and with a + malicious smile said,—“Miss Portman, ‘tis fair I should pay for my + peeping; but I shall not pay quite so dear for it as some of my friends.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Portman did not in the least comprehend her, till she added, “I’m + sure you’ll allow that ‘tis better for a lady to lose her leg than her + reputation—and for my part I’d rather be caught in a man trap, than + have a man caught in my bedchamber. My service to your friend, Lady + Delacour, and tell her so.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you know who that gentleman was, that you saw in her ladyship’s + room?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I, not yet; but I’ll make it my business to find out. I give you fair + notice; I’m a very devil when provoked. Why didn’t you make me your friend + when you could?—You’ll not baffle me. I have seen all I wanted, and + I am capable of painting all I saw. As to who the man might be, that’s no + matter; one Lothario is as good as another for my purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Longer had Mrs. Freke spoken with malignant triumph, had she not been + interrupted by a burst of laughter from the surgeon. Her vexation was + indescribable when he informed her, that he was the man whom she had seen + in Lady Delacour’s bedchamber, and whom she had mistaken for a favoured + lover. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Freke’s leg was much cut and bruised; and now that she was no longer + supported by the hopes of revenge, she began to lament loudly and + incessantly the injury that she had sustained. She impatiently inquired + how long it was probable that she should be confined by this accident; and + she grew quite outrageous when it was hinted, that the beauty of her legs + would be spoiled, and that she would never more be able to appear to + advantage in man’s apparel. The dread of being seen by Lady Delacour in + the deplorable yet ludicrous situation to which she had reduced herself + operated next upon her mind, and every time the door of the apartment + opened, she looked with terror towards it, expecting to see her ladyship + appear. But though Lady Delacour heard from Marriott immediately the news + of Mrs. Freke’s disaster, she never disturbed her by her presence. She was + too generous to insult a fallen foe. + </p> + <p> + Early in the morning Mrs. Freke was by her own desire conveyed to her + cousin’s house, where without regret we shall leave her to suffer the + consequences of her frolic. + </p> + <p> + “A false prophetess! Nowithstanding all my visions, I have outlived the + night, you see,” said Lady Delacour, to Miss Portman when they met in the + morning. “I have heard, my dear Belinda, and I believe, that the passion + of love, which can endure caprice, vice, wrinkles, deformity, poverty, + nay, disease itself, is notwithstanding so squeamish as to be + instantaneously disgusted by the perception of folly in the object + beloved. I hope friendship, though akin to love, is of a more robust + constitution, else what would become of me? My folly, and my visions, and + my spectre—oh, that I had not exposed myself to you in this manner! + Harriot Freke herself is scarcely more contemptible. Spies and cowards are + upon an equal footing. Her malice and her <i>frolic</i> are consistent + with her character, but my fears and my superstition are totally + inconsistent with mine. Forget the nonsense I talked to you last night, my + dear, or fancy that I was then under the dominion of laudanum. This + morning you shall see Lady Delacour <i>herself again</i>. Is Dr. X——, + is the surgeon ready? Where are they? I am prepared. My fortitude shall + redeem me in your opinion, Belinda, and in my own.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor X—— and the surgeon immediately obeyed her summons. + </p> + <p> + Helena heard them go into Lady Delacour’s room, and she saw by Marriott’s + countenance, who followed, that her mother was going to submit to the + operation. She sat down trembling on the steps which led to her mother’s + room, and waited there a long time, as she thought, in the most painful + suspense. At last she heard some one call Helena. She looked up, and saw + her father close to her. + </p> + <p> + “Helena,” said he, “how is your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Oh, papa, you cannot go in there <i>now</i>,” said Helena, + stopping him as he was pressing forwards. + </p> + <p> + “Why did not you or Miss Portman write to me yesterday, as you promised?” + said Lord Delacour, in a voice that showed he was scarcely able to ask the + question. + </p> + <p> + “Because, papa, we had nothing to tell you: nothing was done yesterday. + But the surgeon is now there,” said Helena, pointing towards her mother’s + room. + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour stood motionless for an instant; then suddenly seizing his + daughter’s hand, “Let us go,” said he: “if we stay here, we shall hear her + screams;” and he was hurrying her away, when the door of Lady Delacour’s + apartment opened, and Belinda appeared, her countenance radiant with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Good news, dear Helena! Oh, my lord! you are come in a happy moment—I + give you joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Joy! joy! joy!” cried Marriott, following. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all over?” said Lord Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “And without a single shriek!” said Helena. “What courage!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no need of shrieks, or courage either, thank God,” said Marriott. + “Dr. X—— says so, and he is the best man in the world, and the + cleverest. And I was right from the first; I said it was impossible my + lady should have such a shocking complaint as she thought she had. There’s + no such thing at all in the case, my lord! I said so always, till I was + persuaded out of my senses by that villainous quack, who contradicted me + for this own ‘molument. And Doctor X—— says, if my lady will + leave off the terrible quantities of laudanum she takes, he’ll engage for + her recovery.” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon and Dr. X—— now explained to Lord Delacour that + the unprincipled wretch to whom her ladyship had applied for assistance + had persuaded her that she had a cancer, though in fact her complaint + arose merely from the bruise which she had received. He knew too well how + to make a wound hideous and painful, and so continue her delusion for his + own advantage. Dr. X—— observed, that if Lady Delacour would + have permitted either the surgeon or him to have <i>examined</i> sooner + into the real state of the case, it would have saved herself infinite + pain, and them all anxiety. Belinda at this moment felt too much to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I’m morally certain,” cried Marriott, “Mr. Champfort would die with + vexation, if he could see the joy that’s painted in my lord’s face this + minute. And we may thank Miss Portman for this, for ‘twas she made every + thing go right, and I never expected to live to see so happy a day.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Marriott ran on in this manner with all the volubility of joy, Lord + Delacour passed her with some difficulty, and Helena was in her mother’s + arms in an instant. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour, struck to the heart by their affectionate looks and words, + burst into tears. “How little have I deserved this kindness from you, my + lord! or from you, my child! But my feelings,” added she, wiping away her + tears, “shall not waste themselves in tears, nor in vain thanks. My + actions, the whole course of my future life, shall show that I am not + quite a brute. Even brutes are won by kindness. Observe, my lord,” + continued she, smiling, “I said <i>won</i>, not <i>tamed!</i>—A tame + Lady Delacour would be a sorry animal, not worth looking at. Were she even + to become domesticated, she would fare the worse.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?—How so, my dear?” said Lord Delacour and Belinda almost in + the same breath. + </p> + <p> + “How so?—Why, if Lady Delacour were to wash off her rouge, and lay + aside her air, and be as gentle, good, and kind as Belinda Portman, for + instance, her lord would certainly say to her, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘So alter’d are your face and mind, + ‘Twere perjury to love you now.’” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. — THE CHAPLAIN. + </h2> + <p> + In some minds, emotions of joy are always connected with feelings of + benevolence and generosity. Lady Delacour’s heart expanded with the + sensations of friendship and gratitude, now that she was relieved from + those fears by which she had so long been oppressed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear daughter,” said she to Helena, “have you at this instant any wish + that I can gratify?—Ask any thing you please, the fairy Goodwill + shall contrive to get it for you in a trice. You have thought of a wish at + this moment, I know, by your eyes, by your blush. Nay, do not hesitate. Do + you doubt me because I do not appear before you in the shape of a little + ugly woman, like Cinderella’s godmother? or do you despise me because you + do not see a wand waving in my hand?—‘Ah, little skilled of fairy + lore!’ know that I am in possession of a talisman that can command more + than ever fairy granted. Behold my talisman,” continued she, drawing out + her purse, and showing the gold through the net-work. “Speak boldly, + then,” cried she to Helena, “and be obeyed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, mamma,” said Helena, “I was not thinking of what fairies or gold can + give; but you can grant my wish, and if you will let me, I will whisper it + to you.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour stooped to hear her daughter’s whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Your wish is granted, my own grateful, charming girl,” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + Helena’s wish was, that her mother could be reconciled to her good aunt, + Margaret Delacour. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship sat down instantly, and wrote to Mrs. Delacour. Helena was + the bearer of this letter, and Lady Delacour promised to wait upon this + excellent old lady as soon as she should return to town. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime her ladyship’s health rapidly improved under the skilful + care of Dr. X——: it had been terribly injured by the ignorance + and villany of the wretch to whom she had so long and so rashly trusted. + The nostrums which he persuaded her to take, and the immoderate use of + opium to which she accustomed herself, would have ruined her constitution, + had it not been uncommonly strong. Dr. X—— recommended it to + her ladyship to abstain gradually from opium, and this advice she had the + resolution to follow with uninterrupted perseverance. + </p> + <p> + The change in Lady Delacour’s manner of life, in the hours and the company + that she kept, contributed much to her recovery.<a href="#linknote-9" + name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9"><small>9</small></a> She was no + longer in continual anxiety to conceal the state of her health from the + world. She had no secret to keep—no part to act; her reconciliation + with her husband and with his friends restored her mind to ease and + self-complacency. Her little Helena was a source of daily pleasure; and no + longer conscious of neglecting her daughter, she no longer feared that the + affections of her child should be alienated. Dr. X——, well + aware that the passions have a powerful influence over the body, thought + it full as necessary, in some cases, to attend to the mind as to the + pulse. By conversing with Lady Delacour, and by combining hints and + circumstances, he soon discovered what had lately been the course of her + reading, and what impression it had made on her imagination. Mrs. + Marriott, indeed, assisted him with her opinion concerning <i>the + methodistical books</i>; and when he recollected the forebodings of death + which her ladyship had felt, and the terror with which she had been seized + on the night of Mrs. Freke’s adventure, he was convinced that + superstitious horrors hung upon his patient’s spirits, and affected her + health. To argue on religious subjects was not his province, much less his + inclination; but he was acquainted with a person qualified by his + profession and his character ‘to minister to a mind diseased,’ and he + resolved on the first favourable opportunity to introduce this gentleman + to her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + One morning Lady Delacour was complaining to Belinda, that the books in + the library were in dreadful confusion. “My lord has really a very fine + library,” said she; “but I wish he had half as many books twice as well + arranged: I never can find any thing I want. Dr. X——, I wish + to heaven you could recommend a librarian to my lord—not a chaplain, + observe.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not a chaplain, may I ask your ladyship?” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, because we had once a chaplain, who gave me a surfeit of the whole + tribe. The meanest sycophant, yet the most impertinent busy-body—always + cringing, yet always intriguing—wanting to govern the whole family, + and at the same time every creature’s humble servant—fawning to my + lord the bishop, insolent to the poor curate—anathematizing all who + differed from him in opinion, yet without dignity to enforce the respect + due to his faith or his profession—greedy for preferment, yet + without a thought of the duties of his office. It was the common practice + of this man to leap from his horse at the church door on a holiday, after + following a pack of hounds, huddle on his surplice, and gabble over the + service with the most indecent mockery of religion. Do I speak with + acrimony? I have reason. It was this chaplain who first led my lord to + Newmarket; it was he who first taught my lord to drink. Then he was <i>a + wit</i>—an insufferable wit. His conversation after he had drank was + such as no woman but Harriot Freke could understand, and such as few <i>gentlemen</i> + could hear. I have never, alas! been thought a prude, but in the heyday of + my youth and gaiety, this man always disgusted me. In one word, he was a + buck parson. I hope you have as great a horror for this species of animal + as I have?” + </p> + <p> + “Full as great,” replied Dr. X——; “but I consider them as + monsters, which belonging to no species, can disgrace none.” + </p> + <p> + “They ought to be hunted by common consent out of civilized society,” said + Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “They are by public opinion banished from all rational society; and your + ladyship’s just indignation proves, that they have no chance of being + tolerated by fashion. But would it not allow such beings too much + consequence, would it not extend their power to do mischief, if we + perceived that one such person could disgust Lady Delacour with the whole + race of chaplains?” + </p> + <p> + “It is uncommon,” replied her ladyship, “to hear a physician <i>earnest</i> + in the defence of the clergy—and a literary philosophic physician + too! Shall we have an eulogium upon bishops as well as chaplains?” + </p> + <p> + “We have had that already,” replied Dr. X——. “All ranks, + persuasions, and descriptions of people, including, I hope, those + stigmatized by the name of philosophers, have joined in admiration of the + bishop of St. Pol de Leon. The conduct of the real martyrs to their faith + amongst the French clergy, not even the most witty or brutal sceptic could + ridicule.” + </p> + <p> + “You surprise me, doctor!” said Lady Delacour; “for I assure you that you + have the character of being very liberal in your opinions.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I am liberal in my opinions,” replied the doctor, “and that I give + your ladyship a proof of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not then persecute a man or woman with ridicule for believing + more than you do?” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Those who persecute, to overturn religion, can scarcely pretend to more + philosophy, or more liberality, than those who persecute to support it,” + said Dr. X——. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, doctor, you are only speaking popularly?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe what I now say to be true,” said Dr. X——, “and I + always endeavour to make truth popular.” + </p> + <p> + “But possibly these are only truths for ladies. Doctor X—— may + be such an ungallant philosopher, as to think that some truths are not fit + for ladies. He may hold a different language with gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not only be an ungallant but a weak philosopher,” said Dr. X——, + “if I thought that truth was not the same for all the world who can + understand it. And who can doubt Lady Delacour’s being of that number?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour, who, at the beginning of this conversation, had spoken + guardedly, from the fear of lowering the doctor’s opinion of her + understanding, was put at her ease by the manner in which he now spoke; + and, half laying aside the tone of raillery, she said to him, “Well, + doctor! seriously, I am not so <i>illiberal</i> as to condemn <i>all</i> + chaplains for one, odious as he was. But where to find his contrast in + these degenerate days? Can you, who are a defender of the faith, and so + forth, assist me? Will you recommend a chaplain to my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly,” said Dr. X——; “and that is what I would not say + for a world of fees, unless I were sure of my man.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a man is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a buck parson.” + </p> + <p> + “And I hope not a pedant, not a dogmatist, for that would be almost as + bad. Before we domesticate another chaplain, I wish to know all his + qualities, and to have a full and true description of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I then give you a full and true description of him in the words of + Chaucer?” + </p> + <p> + “In any words you please. But Chaucer’s chaplain must be a little + old-fashioned by this time, I should think.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me. Some people, as well as some things, never grow old-fashioned. + I should not be ashamed to produce Chaucer’s parish priest at this day to + the best company in England—I am not ashamed to produce him to your + ladyship; and if I can remember twenty lines in his favour, I hope you + will give me credit for being a sincere friend to the worthy part of the + clergy. Observe, you must take them as I can patch them together; I will + not promise that I can recollect twenty lines <i>de suite</i>, and without + missing a word; that is what I would not swear to do for His Grace the + Archbishop of Canterbury.” + </p> + <p> + “His Grace will probably excuse you from swearing; at least I will,” said + Lady Delacour, “on the present occasion: so now for your twenty lines in + whatever order you please.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor X——, with sundry intervals of recollection, which may + be spared the reader, repeated the following lines: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Yet has his aspect nothing of severe, + But such a face as promised him sincere. + Nothing reserved or sullen was to see, + But sweet regards, and pleasing sanctity, + Mild was his accent, and his action free. + With eloquence innate his tongue was arm’d, + Though harsh the precept, yet the preacher charm’d; + For, letting down the golden chain from high, + He drew his audience upwards to the sky. + He taught the Gospel rather than the law, + And forced himself to drive, but loved to draw. + The tithes his parish freely paid, he took; + But never sued, or curs’d with bell and book. + Wide was his parish, not contracted close + In streets—but here and there a straggling house. + Yet still he was at hand, without request, + To serve the sick, and succour the distressed. + The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheer’d, + Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear’d. + His preaching much, but more his practice wrought, + A living sermon of the truths he taught.” + </pre> + <p> + Lady Delacour wished that she could find a chaplain, who in any degree + resembled this charming parish priest, and Dr. X——promised + that he would the next day introduce to her his friend Mr. Moreton. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moreton!” said Belinda, “the gentleman of whom Mr. Percival spoke, + Mrs. Freke’s Mr. Moreton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. X——, “the clergyman whom Mrs. Freke hanged in + effigy, and to whom Clarence Hervey has given a small living.” + </p> + <p> + These circumstances, even if he had not precisely resembled Chaucer’s + character of a benevolent clergyman, would have strongly interested Lady + Delacour in his favour. She found him, upon farther acquaintance, a + perfect contrast to her former chaplain; and he gradually acquired such + salutary influence over her mind, that he relieved her from the terrors of + methodism, and in their place substituted the consolations of mild and + rational piety. + </p> + <p> + Her conscience was now at peace; her spirits were real and equable, and + never was her conversation so agreeable. Animated with the new feelings of + returning health, and the new hopes of domestic happiness, she seemed + desirous to impart her felicity to all around her, but chiefly to Belinda, + who had the strongest claims upon her gratitude, and the warmest place in + her affections. Belinda never made her friend feel the weight of any + obligation, and consequently Lady Delacour’s gratitude was a voluntary + pleasure—not an expected duty. Nothing could be more delightful to + Miss Portman than thus to feel herself the object at once of esteem, + affection, and respect; to see that she had not only been the means of + saving her friend’s life, but that the influence she had obtained over her + mind was likely to be so permanently beneficial both to her and to her + family. + </p> + <p> + Belinda did not take all the merit of this reformation to herself: she was + most willing to share it, in her own imagination, not only with Dr. X——and + Mr. Moreton, but with poor Clarence Hervey. She was pleased to observe + that Lady Delacour never omitted any occasion of doing justice to his + merit, and she loved her for that generosity, which sometimes passed the + bounds of justice in her eulogiums. But Belinda was careful to preserve + her consistency, and to guard her heart from the dangerous effect of these + enthusiastic praises; and as Lady Delacour was now sufficiently + re-established in her health, she announced her intention of returning + immediately to Oakly-park, according to her promise to Lady Anne Percival + and to Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear,” said Lady Delacour, “one week more is all I ask from you—may + not friendship ask such a sacrifice from love?” + </p> + <p> + “You expect, I know,” said Miss Portman, ingenuously, “that before the end + of that time Mr. Hervey will be here.” + </p> + <p> + “True. And have you no friendship for him?” said Lady Delacour with an + arch smile, “or is friendship for every man in the creation, one Augustus + Vincent always excepted, prohibited by the statutes of Oakly-park?” + </p> + <p> + “By the statutes of Oakly-park nothing is forbidden,” said Belinda, “but + what reason—” + </p> + <p> + “Reason! Oh, I have done if you go to reason! You are invulnerable to the + light shafts of wit, I know, when you are cased in this heavy armour of + reason; Cupid himself may strain his bow, and exhaust his quiver upon you + in vain. But have a care—you cannot live in armour all your life—lay + it aside but for a moment, and the little bold urchin will make it his + prize. Remember, in one of Raphael’s pictures, Cupid creeping into the + armour of the conqueror of the world.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sufficiently aware,” said Belinda, smiling, “of the power of Cupid, + and of his wiles. I would not brave his malice, but I will fly from it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is so cowardly to fly!” + </p> + <p> + “Surely prudence, not courage, is the virtue of our sex; and seriously, my + dear Lady Delacour, I entreat you not to use your influence over my mind, + lest you should lessen my happiness, though you cannot alter my + determination.” + </p> + <p> + Moved by the earnest manner in which Belinda uttered these words, Lady + Delacour rallied her no more, nor did she longer oppose her resolution of + returning immediately to Oakly-park. + </p> + <p> + “May I remind you,” said Miss Portman, “though it is seldom either politic + or polite, to remind people of their promises,—but may I remind you + of something like a promise you made, to accompany me to Mr. Percival’s?” + </p> + <p> + “And would you have me behave so brutally to poor Lord Delacour, as to run + away from him in this manner the moment I have strength to run?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Delacour is included in this invitation,” said Miss Portman, putting + the last letter that she had received from Lady Anne Percival into her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “When I recollect,” said Lady Delacour, as she looked over the letter, + “how well this Lady Anne of yours has behaved to me about Helena, when I + recollect, that, though you have been with her so long, she has not + supplanted me in your affections, and that she did not attempt to detain + you when I sent Marriott to Oakly-park, and when I consider how much for + my own advantage it will be to accept this invitation, I really cannot + bring myself, from pride, or folly, or any other motive, to refuse it. So, + my dear Belinda, prevail upon Lord Delacour to spend his Christmas at + Oakly-park, instead of at Studley-manor (Rantipole, thank Heaven! is out + of the question), and prevail upon yourself to stay a few days for me, and + you shall take us all with you in triumph.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda was convinced that, when Lady Delacour had once tasted the + pleasures of domestic life, she would not easily return to that + dissipation which she had followed from habit, and into which she had + first been driven by a mixture of vanity and despair. All the connexions + which she had imprudently formed with numbers of fashionable but + extravagant and thoughtless women would insensibly be broken off by this + measure; for Lady Delacour, who was already weary of their company, would + be so much struck with the difference between their insipid conversation + and the animated and interesting society in Lady Anne Percival’s family, + that she would afterwards think them not only burdensome but intolerable. + Lord Delacour’s intimacy with Lord Studley was one of his chief + inducements to that intemperance, which injured almost equally his + constitution and his understanding: for some weeks past he had abstained + from all excess, and Belinda was well aware, that, when the immediate + motive of humanity to Lady Delacour ceased to act upon him, he would + probably return to his former habits, if he continued to visit his former + associates. It was therefore of importance to break at once his connexion + with Lord Studley, and to place him in a situation where he might form new + habits, and where his dormant talents might be roused to exertion. She was + convinced that his understanding was not so much <i>below par</i> as she + had once been taught to think it: she perceived, also, that since their + reconciliation, Lady Delacour was anxious to make him appear to advantage: + whenever he said any thing that was worth hearing, she looked at Belinda + with triumph; and whenever he happened to make <i>a mistake</i> in + conversation, she either showed involuntary signs of uneasiness, or passed + it off with that easy wit, by which she generally knew how “to make the + worse appear the better reason.” Miss Portman knew that Mr. Percival + possessed the happy talent of drawing out all the abilities of those with + whom he conversed, and that he did not value men merely for their + erudition, science, or literature; he was capable of estimating <i>the + potential</i> as well as <i>the actual range</i> of the mind. Of his + generosity she could not doubt, and she was persuaded that he would take + every possible means which good nature, joined to good sense, could + suggest, to raise Lord Delacour in his lady’s esteem, and to make that + union happy which was indissoluble. All these reflections passed with the + utmost rapidity in Belinda’s mind, and the result of them was, that she + consented to wait Lady Delacour’s leisure for her journey. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. — PEU À PEU. + </h2> + <p> + Things were in this situation, when one day Marriott made her appearance + at her lady’s toilette with a face which at once proclaimed that something + had discomposed her, and that she was impatient to be asked what it was. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Marriott?” said Lady Delacour; “for I know you want + me to ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Want you to ask! Oh, dear, my lady, no!—for I’m sure, it’s a thing + that goes quite against me to tell; for I thought, indeed, my lady, <i>superiorly</i> + of the person in question; so much so, indeed, that I wished what I + declare I should now be ashamed to mention, especially in the presence of + Miss Portman, who deserves the best that this world can afford of every + denomination. Well, ma’am, in one word,” continued she, addressing herself + to Belinda, “I am extremely rejoiced that things are as they are, though I + confess that was not always my wish or opinion, for which I beg Mr. + Vincent’s pardon and yours; but I hope to be forgiven, since I’m now come + entirely round to my Lady Anne Percival’s way of thinking, which I learnt + from good authority at Oakly-park; and I am now convinced and confident, + Miss Portman, that every thing is for the best.” + </p> + <p> + “Marriott will inform us, in due course of time, what has thus suddenly + and happily converted her,” said Lady Delacour to Belinda, who was thrown + into some surprise and confusion by Marriott’s address; but Marriott went + on with much warmth— + </p> + <p> + Dear me! I’m sure I thought we had got rid of all double-dealers, when the + house was cleared of Mr. Champfort; but, oh, mercy! there’s not traps + enough in the world for them all; I only wish they were all caught as + finely as some people were. “Tis what all double-dealers, and Champfort at + the head of the whole regiment, deserve—that’s certain.” + </p> + <p> + “We must take patience, my dear Belinda,” said Lady Delacour, calmly, + “till Marriott has exhausted all the expletives in and out of the English + language; and presently, when she has fought all her battles with + Champfort over again, we may hope to get at the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear! my lady, it has nothing to do with Mr. Champfort, nor any such + style of personage, I can assure you; for, I’m positive, I’d rather think + contemptibly of a hundred million Mr. Champforts than of one such + gentleman as Mr. Clarence Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “Clarence Hervey!” exclaimed Lady Delacour: taking it for granted that + Belinda blushed, her ladyship, with superfluous address, instantly turned, + so as to hide her friend’s face from Mrs. Marriott. “Well, Marriott, what + of Mr. Hervey?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lady, something you’ll be surprised to hear, and Miss Portman, + too. It is not, by any means, that I am more of a prude than is becoming, + my lady: nor that I take upon me to be so innocent as not to know that + young gentlemen of fortune will, if it be only for fashion’s sake, have + such things as kept mistresses (begging pardon for mentioning such trash); + but no one that has lived in the world thinks any thing of that, except,” + added she, catching a glimpse of Belinda’s countenance, “except, to be + sure, ma’am, morally speaking, it’s very wicked and shocking, and makes + one blush before company, till one’s used to it, and ought certainly to be + put down by act of parliament, ma’am; but, my lady, you know, in point of + surprising any body, or being discreditable in a young gentleman of Mr. + Hervey’s fortune and pretensions, it would be mere envy and scandal to + deem it any thing—worth mentioning.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, for mercy’s sake, or mine,” said Lady Delacour, “go on to something + that is worth mentioning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lady, you must know, then, that yesterday I wanted some hempseed + for my bullfinch—Miss Helena’s bullfinch, I mean; for it was she + found it by accident, you know, Miss Portman, the day after we came here. + Poor thing! it got itself so entangled in the net over the morello cherry + tree, in the garden, that it could neither get itself in nor out; but very + luckily Miss Helena saw it, and saved, and brought it in: it was almost + dead, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it?—I mean I am very sorry for it: that is what you expect me + to say. Now, go on—get us once past the bullfinch, or tell us what + it has to do with Clarence Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I am aiming at, as fast as possible, my lady. So I sent for + some hempseed for the bullfinch, and along with the hempseed they brought + me wrapped round it, as it were, a printed handbill, as it might be, or + advertisement, which I threw off, disregardingly, taking for granted it + might have been some of those advertisements for lozenges or razor-strops, + that meet one wherever one goes; but Miss Delacour picked it up, and found + it was a kind of hue and cry after a stolen or strayed bullfinch. Ma’am, I + was so provoked, I could have cried, when I learnt it was the exact + description of our little Bobby to a feather—gray upon the back, and + red on——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! spare me the description to a feather. Well, you took the bird, + bullfinch, or Bobby, as you call it, home to its rightful owner, I + presume? Let me get you so far on your way.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I beg your pardon, my lady, that is not the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you did not take the bird home to its owner—and you are a + bird-stealer? With all my heart: be a dog-stealer, if you will—only + go on.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lady, you hurry me so, it puts every thing topsy-turvy in my + head; I could tell it as fast as possible my own way.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I was ready to cry, when I found our little Bobby was claimed from us, to + be sure; but Miss Delacour observed, that those with whom it had lived + till it was grey must be sorrier still to part with it: so I resolved to + do the honest and genteel thing by the lady who advertised for it, and to + take it back myself, and to refuse the five guineas reward offered. The + lady’s name, according to the advertisement, was Ormond.” + </p> + <p> + “Ormond!” repeated Lady Delacour, looking eagerly at Belinda: “was not + that the name Sir Philip Baddely mentioned to us—you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ormond was the name, as well as I recollect,” said Belinda, with a + degree of steady composure that provoked her ladyship. “Go on, Marriott.” + </p> + <p> + “And the words were, to leave the bird at a perfumer’s in Twickenham, + opposite to ——; but that’s no matter. Well, my lady, to the + perfumer’s I went with the bird, this morning. Now, I had my reasons for + wishing to see this Mrs. Ormond myself, because, my lady, there was one + thing rather remarkable about this bullfinch, that it sings a very + particular tune, which I never heard any bullfinch, or any human creature, + sing anything like before: so I determined, in my own cogitations, to ask + this Mrs. Ormond to name the tunes her bullfinch could sing, before I + produced it; and if she made no mention of its knowing any one out of the + common way, I resolved to keep my bird to myself, as I might very + conscientiously and genteelly too. So, my lady, when I got to the + perfumer’s, I inquired where Mrs. Ormond was to be found? I was told that + she received no visits from any, at least from the female sex; and that I + must leave the bird there till called for. I was considering what to do, + and the strangeness of the information made about the female sex, when in + there came, into the shop, a gentleman, who saved me all the indelicacy of + asking particulars. The bullfinch was at this time piping away at a fine + rate, and, as luck would have it, that very remarkable strange tune that I + mentioned to you. Says the gentleman, as he came into the shop, fixing his + eyes on the bullfinch as if they would have come fairly out of his head, + ‘How did that bird come here?’—‘I brought it here, sir,’ said I. + Then he began to offer me mountains of gold in a very strange way, if I + could tell him any tidings of the lady to whom it belonged. The shopman + from behind the counter now bent forward, and whispered the gentleman that + he could give him some information, if he would make it worth his while; + and they both went together to a little parlour behind the shop, and I saw + no more of them. But, my lady, very opportunely for me, that was dying + with curiosity, out of the parlour they turned a young woman in, to attend + the shop, who proved to be an acquaintance of mine, whom I had done some + little favours to when in service in London. And this young woman, when I + told her my distress about the advertisement and the bullfinch, let me + into the whole of the affair. ‘Ma’am,’ said she, ‘all that is known about + Mrs. Ormond, in this house, or any where else, is from me; so there was no + occasion for turning me out of the parlour. I lived with Mrs. Ormond, + ma’am,” says she, “‘for half a year, in the very house she now occupies, + and consequently nobody can be better informed than I am:’—to which + I agreed. Then she told me that the reason that Mrs. Ormond never saw any + company of any sort was, because she is not fit to see company—proper + company—for she’s not a proper woman. She has a most beautiful young + creature there, shut up, who has been seduced, and is now deserted in a + most cruel manner by a Mr. Hervey. Oh, my lady! how the name struck upon + my ear! I hoped, however, it was not our Mr. Hervey; but it was the + identical Mr. Clarence Hervey. I made the young woman describe him, for + she had often and often seen him, when he visited the unfortunate + creature; and the description could suit none but our Mr. Hervey, and + besides it put it beyond a doubt, she told me his linen was all marked C. + H. So our Mr. Hervey, ma’am,” added Marriott, turning to Belinda, “it + certainly proved to be, to my utter dismay and confusion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Marriott! my poor head!” exclaimed Lady Delacour, starting from under + her hands: “that cruel comb went at least half an inch into my head—heads + have feeling as well as hearts, believe me.” And, as she spoke, she + snatched out the comb with which Marriott had just fastened up her hair, + and flung it on a sofa at some yards’ distance. While Marriott went to + fetch it, Lady Delacour thought that Belinda would have time to recover + from that utter dismay and confusion into which she hoped that she must + now be thrown. “Come, Marriott, make haste. I have done <i>you</i> at + least a great favour, for you have all this hair to perform upon again, + and you will have leisure to finish this story of yours—which, at + all events, if it is not in any other respect wonderful, we must allow is + wonderfully long.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lady, to be short, then—I was more curious than ever, when + I heard all this, to hear more; and asked my friend how she could ever + think of staying in a house with ladies of such a description! Upon which + she justified herself by assuring me, upon her honour, that at first she + believed the young lady was married privately to Mr. Hervey, for that a + clergyman came in secret, and read prayers, and she verily believes that + the unfortunate young creature was deceived barbarously, and made to fancy + herself married to all intents and purposes, till all at once Mr. Hervey + threw off the mask, and left off visiting her, pretending a necessity to + take a journey, and handing her over to that vile woman, that Mrs. Ormond, + who bid her to be comforted, and all the things that are said by such + women, on such occasions, by all accounts. But the poor deluded young + thing saw how it was now too plain, and she was ready to break her heart; + but not in a violent, common sort of way, ma’am, but in silent grief, + pining and drooping. My friend could not stand the sight, nor endure to + look upon Mrs. Ormond now she knew what she was; and so she left the + house, without giving any reason, immediately. I forgot to mention, that + the unfortunate girl’s maiden name was St. Pierre, my lady: but her + Christian name, which was rather an out o’ the way name, I quite forget.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” said Lady Delacour; “we can live without it; or we can + imagine it.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure—I beg pardon; such sort of people’s names can’t be of + any consequence, and, I’m sure, I blame myself now for going to the house, + after all I had heard.” + </p> + <p> + “You did go to the house, then?” + </p> + <p> + “To my shame be it spoken; my curiosity got the better of me, and I went—-but + only on account of the bullfinch in the eyes of the world. It was a great + while before I could get in: but I was so firm, that I would not give up + the bird to no one but the lady herself, that I got in at last. Oh, never + did my eyes light upon so beautiful a creature, nor so graceful, nor so + innocent to look at!”—Belinda sighed—Marriott echoed the sigh, + and continued “She was by herself, and in tears, when I was shown in, + ma’am, and she started as if she had never seen any body before in her + life. But when she saw the bullfinch, ma’am, she clapped her hands, and, + smiling through her tears like a child, she ran up to me, and thanked me + again and again, kissing the bird between times, and putting it into her + bosom. Well, I declare, if she had talked to all eternity, she could never + have made me pity her half so much as all this did, for it looked so much + like innocence. I’m sure, nobody that was not—or, at least, that did + not think themselves innocent, could have such ways, and such an innocent + affection for a little bird. Not but what I know ladies of a certain + description often have birds, but then their fondness is all affectation + and fashion; but this poor thing was all nature. Ah! poor unfortunate + girl, thought I—but it’s no matter what I thought now,” said + Marriott, shutting her eyes, to hide the tears that came into them at this + instant; “I was ashamed of myself, when I saw Mrs. Ormond just then come + into the room, which made me recollect what sort of company I was in. La! + my lady, how I detested the sight of her! She looked at me, too, more like + a dragon than any thing else; though in a civil way, and as if she was + frightened out of her wits, she asked Miss St. Pierre, as she called her, + how I had got in (in a whisper), and she made all sorts of signs afterward + to her, to go out of the room. Never having been in such a situation + before, I was quite robbed of all fluency, and could not—what with + the anger I felt for the one, and sorrow for the other—get out a + word of common sense, or even recollect what pretence brought me into the + room, till the bird very luckily put it into my head by beginning to sing; + so then I asked, whether they could certify it to be theirs by any + particular tune of its own? ‘Oh, yes,’ said Miss St. Pierre; and she sung + the very same tune. I never heard so sweet a voice; but, poor thing, + something came across her mind in the middle of it, and she stopped; but + she thanked me again for bringing back the bird, which, she said, had been + hers for a great many years, and that she loved it dearly. I stood, I + believe, like one stupified, till I was roused by <i>the woman’s</i> + offering to put the five guineas reward, mentioned in the advertisement, + into my hand. The touch of her gold made me start, as if it had been a + snake, and I pushed it from me; and when she pressed it again, I threw it + on the table, scarce knowing what I did; and just then, in her iniquitous + hand, I saw a letter, directed to Clarence Hervey, Esq. Oh, how I hated + the sight of his name, and every thing belonging to him, ma’am, at that + minute! I’m sure, I could not have kept myself from saying something quite + outrageous, if I had not taken myself out of the house, as I did, that + instant. + </p> + <p> + “When there are women enough born and bred good for nothing, and ladies + enough to flirt with, that would desire no better, that a gentleman like + Mr. Clarence Hervey, ma’am, should set his wits, as one may say, to be the + ruin of such a sweet, innocent-looking young creature, and then desert her + in that barbarous way, after bringing a clergyman to deceive her with a + mock ceremony, and all—oh! there is no fashion, nor nothing can + countenance such wickedness! ‘tis the worst of wickedness and cruelty—and + I shall think and say so to the latest hour of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well said, Marriott,” cried Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “And now you know the reason, ma’am,” added Marriott, “that I said, I was + glad <i>things are as they are</i>. To be sure I and every body once + thought—but that’s all over now—and I am glad <i>things are as + they are</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour once more turned her quick eyes upon Belinda, and was much + pleased to see that she seemed to sympathize with Marriott’s indignation. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, when they were alone, Lady Delacour touched upon the + subject again, and observed, that as they should now, in all probability, + see Mr. Hervey in a few days, they might be able to form a better judgment + of this affair, which she doubted not had been exaggerated. “You should + judge from the whole of Clarence’s conduct and character, and not from any + particular part,” said her ladyship. “Do not his letters breathe a spirit + of generosity?” + </p> + <p> + “But,” interrupted Miss Portman, “I am not called upon to judge of Mr. + Hervey’s whole conduct and character, nor of any part of it; his letters + and his generosity are nothing—” + </p> + <p> + “To you?” said Lady Delacour with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “This is no time, and no subject for raillery, my dear friend,” said + Belinda; “you assured me, and I believed you, that the idea of Mr. + Hervey’s return was entirely out of the question, when you prevailed upon + me to delay my journey to Oakly-park. As I now understand that your + ladyship has changed your mind, I must request your ladyship will permit + me—” + </p> + <p> + “I will permit you to do what you please, dearest Belinda, except to call + me <i>your ladyship</i> twice in one sentence. You shall go to Oakly-park + the day after to-morrow: will that content you, my dear? I admire your + strength of mind—you are much fitter to conduct yourself than I am + to conduct you. I have done with raillery: my first, my only object, is + your happiness. I respect and esteem as much as I love you, and I love you + better than any thing upon earth—power excepted, you will say—power + not excepted, believe me; and if you are one of those strange people that + cannot believe without proof, you shall have proof positive upon the + spot,” added she, ringing the bell as she spoke. “I will no longer contend + for power over your mind with your friends at Oakly-park. I will give + orders, in your presence, to Marriott, to prepare for our march—I + did not call it retreat; but there is nothing shows so much generalship as + a good retreat, unless it be a great victory. I am, I confess, rather + prejudiced in favour of victory.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” said Belinda, with a smile; “I am so strongly prejudiced in + favour of victory, that rather than obtain no other, I would even be + content with a victory over myself.” + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had Belinda pronounced these words, when Lord Delacour, who had + dined in town, entered the room, accompanied by Mr. Vincent. + </p> + <p> + “Give me leave, Lady Delacour, to introduce to you,” said his lordship, “a + young gentleman, who has a great, and, I am sure, a most disinterested + desire to cultivate your ladyship’s further acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour received him with all the politeness imaginable; and even + her prepossessions in favour of Clarence Hervey could not prevent her from + being struck with his appearance. Il a infiniment l’air d’un héros de + roman, thought she, and Belinda is not quite so great a philosopher as I + imagined. In due time her ladyship recollected that she had orders to give + to Marriott about her journey, that made it absolutely necessary she + should leave Miss Portman to entertain Mr. Vincent, if possible, without + her, for a few minutes; and Lord Delacour departed, contenting himself + with the usual excuse of—<i>letters to write</i>. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be delighted with your gallantry, Mr. Vincent,” said Belinda, + “in travelling so many miles, to remind me of my promise about Oakly-park; + but on the contrary, I am sorry you have taken so much unnecessary + trouble: Lady Delacour is, at this instant, preparing for our journey to + Mr. Percival’s. We intend to set out the day after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I am heartily glad of it—I shall be infinitely overpaid for my + journey, by having the pleasure of going back with you.” + </p> + <p> + After some conversation upon different subjects, Mr. Vincent, with an air + of frankness which was peculiarly pleasing to Belinda, put into her hands + an anonymous letter, which he had received the preceding day. + </p> + <p> + “It is not worth your reading,” said he; “but I know you too well to fear + that it should give you any pain; and I hope you know me too well, to + apprehend that it could make any impression on my mind.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda read with some surprise:— + </p> + <p> + “Rash young man! beware of connecting yourself with the lady to whom you + have lately been drawn in to pay your addresses: she is the most artful of + women. She has been educated, as you may find upon inquiry, by one, whose + successful trade it has been to draw in young men of fortune for her + nieces, whence she has obtained the appellation of <i>the match-maker + general</i>. The only niece whom she could not get rid of any other way, + she sent to the most dissipated and unprincipled viscountess in town. The + viscountess fell sick, and, as it was universally reported last winter, + the young lady was immediately, upon her friend’s death, to have been + married to the viscount widower. But the viscountess detected the + connexion, and the young lady, to escape from her friend’s rage, and from + public shame, was obliged to retreat to certain shades in the + neighbourhood of Harrowgate; where she passed herself for a saint upon + those who were too honourable themselves to be suspicious of others. + </p> + <p> + “At length the quarrel between her and the viscountess was made up, by her + address and boldness in declaring, that if she was not recalled, she would + divulge some secrets respecting a certain mysterious boudoir in her + ladyship’s house: this threat terrified the viscountess, who sent off + express for her late discarded humble companion. The quarrel was hushed + up, and the young lady is now with her noble friend at Twickenham. The + person who used to be let up the private stairs into the boudoir, by Mrs. + Marriott, is now more conveniently received at Twickenham.” + </p> + <p> + Much more was said by the letter-writer in the same strain. The name of + Clarence Hervey, in the last page, caught Belinda’s eye; and with a + trepidation which she did not feel at the beginning of this epistle, she + read the conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “The viscount is not supposed to have been unrivalled in the young lady’s + favour. A young gentleman, of large fortune, great talents, and uncommon + powers of pleasing, has, for some months, been her secret object; but he + has been prudent enough to escape her matrimonial snares, though he + carries on a correspondence with her, through the means of her friend the + viscountess, to whom he privately writes. The noble lady has bargained to + make over to her confidante all her interest in Hervey’s heart. He is + expected every day to return from his tour; and, if the schemes upon him + can be brought to bear, the promised return to the neighbourhood of + Harrowgate will never be thought of. Mr. Vincent will be left in the + lurch; he will not even have the lady’s fair hand—her <i>fair</i> + heart is Clarence Hervey’s, at all events. Further particulars shall be + communicated to Mr. Vincent, if he pays due attention to this warning from + </p> + <p> + “A SINCERE FRIEND.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Belinda had finished this curious production, she thanked Mr. + Vincent, with more kindness than she had ever before shown him, for the + confidence he placed in her, and for the openness with which he treated + her. She begged his permission to show this letter to Lady Delacour, + though he had previously dreaded the effect which it might have upon her + ladyship’s feelings. + </p> + <p> + Her first exclamation was, “This is one of Harriot Freke’s frolics;” but + as her ladyship’s indignation against Mrs. Freke had long since subsided + into utter contempt, she did not waste another thought upon the writer of + this horrible letter; but instantly the whole energy of her mind and fire + of her eloquence burst forth in an eulogium upon her friend. Careless of + all that concerned herself, she explained, without a moment’s hesitation, + every thing that could exalt Belinda: she described all the difficult + circumstances in which her friend had been placed; she mentioned the + secret with which she had been intrusted; the honour with which, even at + the hazard of her own reputation, she had kept her promise of secrecy + inviolable, when Lord Delacour, in a fit of intoxication and jealousy, had + endeavoured to wrest from Marriott the key of <i>the mysterious boudoir</i>. + She confessed her own absurd jealousy, explained how it had been excited + by the artifices of Champfort and Sir Philip Baddely, how slight + circumstances had worked her mind up almost to frenzy. “The temper, the + dignity, the gentleness, the humanity, with which Belinda bore with me, + during this paroxysm of madness,” said Lady Delacour, “I never can forget; + nor the spirit with which she left my house, when she saw me unworthy of + her esteem, and ungrateful for her kindness; nor the magnanimity with + which she returned to me, when I thought myself upon my death-bed: all + this has made an impression upon my soul, which never, whilst I have life + and reason, can be effaced. She has saved my life. She has made my life + worth saving. She has made me feel my own value. She has made me know my + own happiness. She has reconciled me to my husband. She has united me with + my child. She has been my guardian angel.—<i>She</i>, the confidante + of my intrigues!—<i>she</i> leagued with me in vice!—No, I am + bound to her by ties stronger than vice ever felt; than vice, even in the + utmost ingenuity of its depravity, can devise.” + </p> + <p> + Exhausted by the vehemence with which she had spoken, Lady Delacour + paused; but Vincent, who sympathized in her enthusiasm, kept his eyes + fixed upon her, in hopes that she had yet more to say. + </p> + <p> + “I might, perhaps, you will think,” continued she, smiling, “have spared + you this history of myself, and of my own affairs, Mr. Vincent; but I + thought it necessary to tell you the plain facts, which malice has + distorted into the most odious form. This is the quarrel, this is the + reconciliation, of which your anonymous friend has been so well informed. + Now, as to Clarence Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “I have explained to Mr. Vincent,” interrupted Belinda, “every thing that + he could wish to know on that subject, and I now wish you to tell him that + I faithfully remembered my promise to return to Oakly-park, and that we + were actually preparing for the journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, sir,” cried Lady Delacour, opening the door of her + dressing-room, in which Marriott was upon her knees, locking a trunk, + “here’s dreadful note of preparation.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a happier man than you yet know, Mr. Vincent,” continued Lady + Delacour; “for I can tell you, that some persuasion, some raillery, and + some wit, I flatter myself, have been used, to detain Miss Portman from + you.” + </p> + <p> + “From Oakly-park,” interrupted Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “From Oakly-park, &c. a few days longer. Shall I be frank with you, + Mr. Vincent?—Yes, for I cannot help it—I am not of the nature + of anonymous letter-writers; I cannot, either secretly or publicly, sign + or say myself a <i>sincere friend</i>, without being one to the utmost + extent of my influence. I never give my vote without my interest, nor my + interest without my vote. Now Clarence Hervey is my friend. Start not at + all, sir,—you have no reason; for if he is my friend, Miss Portman + is yours: which has the better bargain? But, as I was going to tell you, + Mr. Clarence Hervey is my friend, and I am his. My vote, interest, and + influence, have consequently been all in his favour. I had reason to + believe that he has long admired <i>the dignity</i> of Miss Portman’s <i>mind, + and the simplicity of her character</i>,” continued her ladyship, with an + arch look at Belinda; “and though he was too much a man of genius to begin + with the present tense of the indicative mood, ‘I love,’ yet I was, and + am, convinced, that he does love her.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you, dear Lady Delacour,” cried Belinda, “speak in this manner, and + recollect all we heard from Marriott this morning? And to what purpose all + this?” + </p> + <p> + “To what purpose, my dear? To convince your friend, Mr. Vincent, that I am + neither fool nor knave; but that I deal fairly by you, by him, and by all + the world. Mr. Hervey’s conduct towards Miss Portman has, I acknowledge, + sir, been undecided. Some circumstances have lately come to my knowledge + which throw doubts upon his honour and integrity—doubts which, I + firmly believe, he will clear up to <i>my</i> satisfaction at least, as + soon as I see him, or as soon as it is in his power; with this conviction, + and believing, as I do, that no man upon earth is so well suited to my + friend,—pardon me, Mr. Vincent, if my wishes differ from yours: + though my sincerity may give you present, it may save you from future, + pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship’s sincerity, whatever pain it may give me, I admire,” said + Mr. Vincent, with some pride in his manner; “but I see that I must despair + of the honour of your ladyship’s congratulations.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “there you are quite mistaken: the + man of Belinda’s choice <i>must</i> receive my congratulations; he must do + more—he must become my friend I would never rest till I had won his + regard, nor should I in the least be apprehensive that he would not have + sufficient greatness of mind to forgive my having treated him with a + degree of sincerity which the common forms of politeness cannot justify, + and at which common souls would be scandalized past recovery.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent’s pride was entirely vanquished by this speech; and with that + frankness by which his manners were usually characterized, he thanked her + for having distinguished him from <i>common souls</i>; and assured her + that such sincerity as hers was infinitely more to his taste than that + refined politeness of which he was aware no one was more perfect mistress + than Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + Here their conversation ended, and Mr. Vincent, as it was now late, took + his leave. + </p> + <p> + “Really, my dear Belinda,” said Lady Delacour, when he was gone, “I am not + surprised at your impatience to return to Oakly-park; I am not so partial + to my knight, as to compare him, in personal accomplishments, with your + hero. I acknowledge, also, that there is something vastly prepossessing in + the frankness of his manners; he has behaved admirably well about this + abominable letter; but, what is better than all in a lady’s eyes he is <i>éperdument + amoureux</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Not <i>éperdument</i>, I hope,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Then, as you do not think it necessary for your hero to be <i>éperdument + amoureux</i>, I presume,” said Lady Delacour, “you do not think it + necessary that a heroine should be in love at all. So love and marriage + are to be separated by philosophy, as well as by fashion. This is Lady + Anne Percival’s doctrine! I give Mr. Percival joy. I remember the time, + when he fancied love essential to happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he not only fancies, but is sure of it now, from experience,” + said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Then he interdicts love only to his friends? He does not think it + essential that you should know any thing about the matter. You may marry + his ward, and welcome, without being in love with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But not without loving him,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “I am not casuist enough in these matters to understand the subtle + distinction you make, with the true Percival emphasis, between loving and + falling in love. But I suppose I am to understand by loving, loving as + half the world do when they marry.” + </p> + <p> + “As it would be happy for half the world if they did,” replied Belinda, + mildly, but with a firmness of tone that her ladyship felt. “I should + despise myself and deserve no pity from any human being, if, after all I + have seen, I could think of marrying for convenience or interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! pardon me; I meant not to insinuate such an idea: even your worst + enemy, Sir Philip Baddely, would acquit you there. I meant but to hint, my + dear Belinda, that a heart such as yours is formed for love in its + highest, purest, happiest state.” + </p> + <p> + A pause ensued. + </p> + <p> + “Such happiness can be secured only,” resumed Belinda, “by a union with a + man of sense and virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “A man of sense and virtue, I suppose, means Mr. Vincent,” said Lady + Delacour: “no doubt you have lately learned in the same sober style that a + little love will suffice with a great deal of esteem.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I have learned lately that a great deal of esteem is the best + foundation for a great deal of love.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” said Lady Delacour; “but we often see people working at the + foundation all their lives without getting any farther.” + </p> + <p> + “And those who build their castles of happiness in the air,” said Belinda, + “are they more secure, wiser, or happier?” + </p> + <p> + “Wiser! I know nothing about that,” said Lady Delacour; “but happier I do + believe they are; for the castle-building is always a <i>labour of love</i>, + but the foundation of drudgery is generally <i>love’s labour lost</i>. + Poor Vincent will find it so.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” said Belinda; “for already his solid good qualities—” + </p> + <p> + “Solid good qualities!” interrupted Lady Delacour: “I beg your pardon for + interrupting you, but, my dear, you know we never fall in love with good + qualities, except, indeed, when they are joined to an aquiline nose—oh! + that aquiline nose of Mr. Vincent’s! I am more afraid of it than of all + his solid good qualities. He has again, I acknowledge it, much the + advantage of Clarence Hervey in personal accomplishments. But you are not + a woman to be decided by personal accomplishments.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will not allow me to be decided by solid good qualities,” said + Belinda. “So by what must I be determined?” + </p> + <p> + “By your heart, my dear; by your heart: trust your heart only.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Belinda, “how many, many women have deplored their having + trusted to their hearts only.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Their</i> hearts! but I said <i>your</i> heart: mind your pronouns, my + dear; that makes all the difference. But, to be serious, tell me, do you + really and <i>bona fide</i>, as my old uncle the lawyer used to say, love + Mr. Vincent?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Belinda, “I do not love him yet.” + </p> + <p> + “But for that emphatic <i>yet</i>, how I should have worshipped you! I + wish I could once clearly understand the state of your mind about Mr. + Vincent, and then I should be able to judge how far I might indulge myself + in raillery without being absolutely impertinent. So without intruding + upon your confidence, tell me whatever you please.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you all I know of my own mind,” replied Belinda, looking up + with an ingenuous countenance. “I esteem Mr. Vincent; I am grateful to him + for the proofs he has given me of steady attachment, and of confidence in + my integrity. I like his manners and the frankness of his temper; but I do + not yet love him, and till I do, no earthly consideration could prevail + upon me to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly satisfactory, my dear Belinda; and yet I cannot be quite at + ease whilst Mr. Vincent is present, and my poor Clarence absent: proximity + is such a dangerous advantage even with the wisest of us. The absent lose + favour so quickly in Cupid’s court, as in all other courts; and they are + such victims to false reports and vile slanderers!” + </p> + <p> + Belinda sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for that sigh, my dear,” said Lady Delacour. “May I ask, would + you, if you discovered that Mr. Vincent had a Virginia, discard him for + ever from your thoughts?” + </p> + <p> + “If I discovered that he had deceived and behaved dishonourably to any + woman, I certainly should banish him for ever from my regard.” + </p> + <p> + “With as much ease as you banished Clarence Hervey?” + </p> + <p> + “With more, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you acknowledge—that’s all I want—that you liked + Clarence better than you do Vincent?” + </p> + <p> + “I acknowledge it,” said Belinda, colouring up to her temples; “but that + time is entirely past, and I never look back to it.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you were forced to look back to it, my dear,—if Clarence + Hervey proposed for you,—would not you cast a lingering look + behind?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me beg of you, my dear Lady Delacour, as my friend,” cried Belinda, + speaking and looking with great earnestness; “let me beg of you to + forbear. Do not use your powerful influence over my heart to make me think + of what I ought not to think, or do what I ought not to do. I have + permitted Mr. Vincent to address me. You cannot imagine that I am so base + as to treat him with duplicity, or that I consider him only as a <i>pis-aller</i>; + no—I have treated, I will treat him honourably. He knows exactly the + state of my mind. He shall have a fair trial whether he can win my love; + the moment I am convinced that he cannot succeed, I will tell him so + decidedly: but if ever I should feel for him that affection which is + necessary for my happiness and his, I hope I shall without fear, even of + Lady Delacour’s ridicule or displeasure, avow my sentiments, and abide by + my choice.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I admire you,” said Lady Delacour; “but I am incorrigible; I am + not fit to hear myself convinced. After all, I am impelled by the genius + of imprudence to tell you, that, in spite of Mr. Percival’s cure for <i>first + loves</i>, I consider love as a distemper that can be had but once.” + </p> + <p> + “As you acknowledge that you are not fit to hear yourself convinced,” said + Belinda, “I will not argue this point with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will allow,” said Lady Delacour, “as it is said or sung in + Cupid’s calendar, that— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Un peu d’amour, un peu de soin, + Menent souvent un coeur bien loin;’” + </pre> + <p> + and she broke off the conversation by singing that beautiful French air. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. — LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG. + </h2> + <p> + The only interest that honest people can take in the fate of rogues is in + their detection and punishment; the reader, then, will be so far + interested in the fate of Mr. Champfort, as to feel some satisfaction at + his being safely lodged in Newgate. The circumstance which led to this + desirable catastrophe was the anonymous letter to Mr. Vincent. From the + first moment that Marriott saw or heard of the letter, she was convinced, + she said, that “Mr. Champfort <i>was at the bottom of it</i>.” Lady + Delacour was equally convinced that Harriot Freke was the author of the + epistle; and she supported her opinion by observing, that Champfort could + neither write nor spell English. Marriott and her lady were both right. It + was a joint, or rather a triplicate performance. Champfort, in conjunction + with the stupid maid, furnished the intelligence, which Mrs. Freke + manufactured; and when she had put the whole into proper style and form, + Mr. Champfort got her rough draught fairly copied at his leisure, and + transmitted his copy to Mr. Vincent. Now all this was discovered by a very + slight circumstance. The letter was copied by Mr. Champfort upon a sheet + of mourning paper, off which he thought that he had carefully cut the + edges; but one bit of the black edge remained, which did not escape + Marriott’s scrutinizing eye. “Lord bless my stars! my lady,” she + exclaimed, “this must be the paper—I mean may be the paper—that + Mr. Champfort was cutting a quire of, the very day before Miss Portman + left town. It’s a great while ago, but I remember it as well as if it was + yesterday. I saw a parcel of black jags of paper littering the place, and + asked what had been going on? and was told, that it was only Mr. Champfort + who had been cutting some paper; which, to be sure, I concluded my lord + had given to him, having no further occasion for,—as my lord and + you, my lady, were just going out of mourning at that time, as you may + remember.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour, when the paper was shown to him, recognized it immediately + by a private mark which he had put on the outside sheet of a division of + letter paper, which, indeed, he had never given to Champfort, but which he + had missed about the time Marriott mentioned. Between the leaves of this + paper his lordship had put, as it was often his practice, some bank notes: + they were notes but of small value, and when he missed them he was easily + persuaded by Champfort that, as he had been much intoxicated the preceding + night, he had thrown them away with some useless papers. He rummaged + through his writing-desk in vain, and then gave up the search. It was true + that on this very occasion he gave Champfort the remainder of some + mourning paper, which he made no scruple, therefore, of producing openly. + Certain that he could swear to his own private mark, and that he could + identify his notes by their numbers, &c., of which he had luckily a + memorandum, Lord Delacour, enraged to find himself both robbed and duped + by a favourite servant, in whom he had placed implicit confidence, was + effectually roused from his natural indolence: he took such active and + successful measures, that Mr. Champfort was committed to gaol, to take his + trial for the robbery. To make peace for himself, he confessed that he had + been instigated by Mrs. Freke to get the anonymous letter written. This + lady was now suffering just punishment for her <i>frolics</i>, and Lady + Delacour thought her fallen so much below indignation, that she advised + Belinda to take no manner of notice of her conduct, except by simply + returning the letter to her, with “Miss Portman’s, Mr. Vincent’s, and Lord + and Lady Delacour’s, compliments and thanks to <i>a sincere friend</i>, + who had been the means of bringing villany to justice.” + </p> + <p> + So much for Mrs. Freke and Mr. Champfort, who, both together, scarcely + deserve an episode of ten lines. + </p> + <p> + Now to return to Mr. Vincent. Animated by fresh hope, he pressed his suit + with Belinda with all the ardour of his sanguine temper. Though little + disposed to fear any future evil, especially in the midst of present + felicity, yet he was aware of the danger that might ensue to him from + Clarence Hervey’s arrival; he was therefore impatient for the intermediate + day to pass, and it was with heartfelt joy that he saw the carriages at + last at the door, which were actually to convey them to Oakly-park. Mr. + Vincent, who had all the West Indian love for magnificence, had upon this + occasion an extremely handsome equipage. Lady Delacour, though she was + disappointed by Clarence Hervey’s not appearing, did not attempt to delay + their departure. She contented herself with leaving a note, to be + delivered to him on his arrival, which, she still flattered herself, would + induce him immediately to go to Harrowgate. The trunks were fastened upon + the carriages, the imperial was carrying out, Marriott was full of a world + of business, Lord Delacour was looking at his horses as usual, Helena was + patting Mr. Vincent’s great dog, and Belinda was rallying her lover upon + his taste for “the pomp, pride, and circumstance” of glorious travelling—when + an express arrived from Oakly-park. It was to delay their journey for a + few weeks. Mr. Percival and Lady Anne wrote word, that they were + unexpectedly called from home by—. Lady Delacour did not stay to + read by what, or by whom, she was so much delighted by this reprieve. Mr. + Vincent bore the disappointment as well as could be expected; particularly + when Belinda observed, to comfort him, that “the mind is its own place;” + and that hers, she believed, would be the same at Twickenham as at + Oakly-park. Nor did <i>she</i> give him any reason to regret that she was + not immediately under the influence of his own friends. The dread of being + unduly biassed by Lady Delacour, and the strong desire Belinda felt to act + honourably by Mr. Vincent, to show him that she was not trifling with his + happiness, and that she was incapable of the meanness of retaining a lover + as a <i>pis-aller</i>, were motives which acted more powerfully in his + favour than all that even Lady Anne Percival could have looked or said. + The contrast between the openness and decision of his conduct towards her, + and Clarence Hervey’s vacillation and mystery; the belief that Mr. Hervey + was or ought to be attached to another woman; the conviction that Mr. + Vincent was strongly attached to her, and that he possessed many of the + good qualities essential to her happiness, operated every day more and + more strongly upon Belinda’s mind. + </p> + <p> + Where was Clarence Hervey all this time? Lady Delacour, alas! could not + divine. She every morning was certain that he would appear that day, and + every night she was forced to acknowledge her mistake. No inquiries—and + she had made all that could be made, by address and perseverance—no + inquiries could clear up the mystery of Virginia and Mrs. Ormond; and her + impatience to see her friend Clarence every hour increased. She was + divided between her confidence in him and her affection for Belinda; + unwilling to give him up, yet afraid to injure her happiness, or to offend + her, by injudicious advice, and improper interference. One thing kept Lady + Delacour for some time in spirits—Miss Portman’s assurance that she + would not bind herself by any promise or engagement to Mr. Vincent, even + when decided in his favour; and that she should hold both him and herself + perfectly free till they were actually married. This was according to Lady + Anne and Mr. Percival’s principles; and Lady Delacour was never tired of + expressing directly or indirectly her admiration of the prudence and + propriety of their doctrine. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour recollected her own promise, to give her <i>sincere + congratulations to the victorious knight</i>; and she endeavoured to treat + Mr. Vincent with impartiality. She was, however, now still less inclined + to like him, from a discovery, which she accidentally made, of his being + still upon good terms with <i>odious Mrs. Luttridge</i>. Helena, one + morning, was playing with Mr. Vincent’s large dog, of which he was + excessively fond. It was called Juba, after his faithful servant. + </p> + <p> + “Helena, my dear,” said Lady Delacour, “take care! don’t trust your hand + in that creature’s monstrous mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “I can assure your ladyship,” cried Mr. Vincent, “that he is the very + quietest and best creature in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” said Belinda, smiling, “since he belongs to you; for you know, + as Mr. Percival tells you, every thing animate or inanimate that is under + your protection, you think must be the best of its kind in the universe.” + </p> + <p> + “But, really, Juba is the best creature in the world,” repeated Mr. + Vincent, with great eagerness. “Juba is, without exception, the best + creature in the universe.” + </p> + <p> + “Juba, the dog, or Juba, the man?” said Belinda: “you know, they cannot be + both the best creatures in the universe.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! Juba, the man, is the best man—and Juba, the dog, is the best + dog, in the universe,” said Mr. Vincent, laughing, with his usual candour, + at his own foible, when it was pointed out to him. “But, seriously, Lady + Delacour, you need not be in the least afraid to trust Miss Delacour with + this poor fellow; for, do you know, during a whole month that I lent him + to Mrs. Luttridge, at Harrowgate, she used constantly to let him sleep in + the room with her; and now, whenever he sees her, he licks her hand as + gently as if he were a lapdog; and it was but yesterday, when I had him + there, she declared he was more gentle than any lapdog in London.” + </p> + <p> + At the name of Luttridge, Lady Delacour changed countenance, and she + continued silent for some time. Mr. Vincent, attributing her sudden + seriousness to dislike or fear of his dog, took him out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lady Delacour,” said Belinda, observing that she still retained + an air of displeasure, “I hope your antipathy to <i>odious Mrs. Luttridge</i> + does not extend to every body who visits her.” + </p> + <p> + “Tout au contraire,” cried Lady Delacour, starting from her reverie, and + assuming a playful manner: “I have made a general gaol-delivery of all my + old hatreds; and even odious Mrs. Luttridge, though a hardened offender, + must be included in this act of grace: so you need not fear that Mr. + Vincent should fall under my royal displeasure for consorting with this + state criminal. Though I can’t sympathize with him, I forgive him, both + for liking that great dog, and that little woman; especially, as I + shrewdly suspect, that he likes the lady’s E O table better than the + lady.” + </p> + <p> + “E O table! Good Heavens! you do not imagine Mr. Vincent——” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my dear, don’t look so terribly alarmed! I assure you, I did not + mean to hint that there was any serious, <i>improper</i> attachment to the + E O table; only a little flirtation, perhaps, to which his passion for you + has, doubtless, put a stop.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll ask him the moment I see him,” cried Belinda, “if he is fond of + play: I know he used to play at billiards at Oakly-park, but merely as an + amusement. Games of address are not to be put upon a footing with games of + hazard.’ + </p> + <p> + “A man may, however, contrive to lose a good deal of money at billiards, + as poor Lord Delacour can tell you. But I beseech you, my dear, do not + betray me to Mr. Vincent; ten to one I am mistaken, for his great dog put + me out of humour——” + </p> + <p> + “But with such a doubt upon my mind, unsatisfied——” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be satisfied; Lord Delacour shall make inquiries for me. Lord + Delacour <i>shall</i> make inquiries, did I say?—<i>will</i>, I + should have said. If Champfort had heard me, to what excellent account he + might have turned that unlucky <i>shall</i>. What a nice grammarian a + woman had need to be, who would live well with a husband inferior to her + in understanding! With a superior or an equal, she might use <i>shall</i> + and <i>will</i> as inaccurately as she pleases. Glorious privilege! How I + shall envy it you, my dear Belinda! But how can you ever hope to enjoy it? + Where is your superior? Where is your equal?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent, who had by this time seen his dog fed, which was one of his + daily pleasures, returned, and politely assured Lady Delacour that Juba + should not again intrude. To make her peace with Mr. Vincent, and to drive + the E O table from Belinda’s thoughts, her ladyship now turned the + conversation from Juba the dog, to Juba the man. She talked of Harriot + Freke’s phosphoric Obeah woman, of whom, she said, she had heard an + account from Miss Portman. From thence she went on to the African slave + trade, by way of contrast, and she finished precisely where she intended, + and where Mr. Vincent could have wished, by praising a poem called ‘The + dying Negro,’ which he had the preceding evening brought to read to + Belinda. This praise was peculiarly agreeable, because he was not + perfectly sure of his own critical judgment, and his knowledge of English + literature was not as extensive as Clarence Hervey’s; a circumstance which + Lady Delacour had discovered one morning, when they went to see Pope’s + famous villa at Twickenham. Flattered by her present confirmation of his + taste, Mr. Vincent readily complied with a request to read the poem to + Belinda. They were all deeply engaged by the charms of poetry, when they + were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of—Clarence Hervey! + </p> + <p> + The book dropped from Vincent’s hand the instant that he heard his name. + Lady Delacour’s eyes sparkled with joy. Belinda’s colour rose, but her + countenance maintained an expression of calm dignity. Mr. Hervey, upon his + first entrance, appeared prepared to support an air of philosophic + composure, which forsook him before he had walked across the room. He + seemed overpowered by the kindness with which Lady Delacour received his + congratulations on her recovery—struck by the reserve of Belinda’s + manner—but not surprised, or displeased, at the sight of Mr. + Vincent. On the contrary, he desired immediately to be introduced to him, + with the air of a man resolute to cultivate his friendship. Provoked and + perplexed, Lady Delacour, in a tone of mingled reproach and astonishment, + exclaimed, “Though you have not done me the honour, Mr. Hervey, to take + any other notice of my last letter, I am to understand, I presume, by the + manner in which you desire me to introduce you to our friend Mr. Vincent, + that it has been received.” + </p> + <p> + “Received! Good Heavens! have not you had my answer?” cried Clarence + Hervey, with a voice and look of extreme surprise and emotion: “Has not + your ladyship received a packet?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had no packet—I have had no letter. Mr. Vincent, do me the + favour to ring the bell,” cried Lady Delacour, eagerly: “I’ll know, this + instant, what’s become of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship must have thought me—,” and, as he spoke, his eye + involuntarily glanced towards Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “No matter what I thought you,” cried Lady Delacour, who forgave him every + thing for this single glance; “if I did you a little injustice, Clarence, + when I was angry, you must forgive me; for, I assure you, I do you a great + deal of justice at other times.” + </p> + <p> + “Did any letter, any packet, come here for me? Inquire, inquire,” said + she, impatiently, to the servant who came in. No letter or packet was to + be heard of. It had been directed, Mr. Hervey now remembered, to her + ladyship’s house in town. She gave orders to have it immediately sent for; + but scarcely had she given them, when, turning to Mr. Hervey, she laughed + and said, “A very foolish compliment to you and your letter, for you + certainly can speak as well as you can write; nay, better, I think—though + you don’t write ill, neither—but you can tell me, in two words, what + in writing would take half a volume. Leave this gentleman and lady to ‘the + dying Negro,’ and let me hear your two words in Lord Delacour’s + dressing-room, if you please,” said she, opening the door of an adjoining + apartment. “Lord Delacour will not be jealous if he find you tête-à-tête + with me, I promise you. But you shall not be compelled. You look—” + </p> + <p> + “I look,” said Mr. Hervey, affecting to laugh, “as if I felt the + impossibility of putting half a volume into two words. It is a long story, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “And I must wait for the packet, whether I will or no—well, be it + so,” said Lady Delacour. Struck with the extreme perturbation into which + he was thrown, she pressed him with no farther raillery, but instantly + attempted to change the conversation to general subjects. + </p> + <p> + Again she had recourse to ‘the dying Negro.’ Mr. Vincent, to whom she now + addressed herself, said, “For my part, I neither have, nor pretend to + have, much critical taste; but I admire in this poem the manly, energetic + spirit of virtue which it breathes.” From the poem, an easy transition was + made to the author; and Clarence Hervey, exerting himself to join in the + conversation, observed, “that this writer (Mr. Day) was an instance that + genuine eloquence must spring from the heart. Cicero was certainly right,” + continued he, addressing himself to Mr. Vincent, “in his definition of a + great orator, to make it one of the first requisites, that he should be a + good man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent coldly replied, “This definition would exclude too many men of + superior talents, to be easily admitted.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the appearance of virtue,” said Belinda, “might, on many + occasions, succeed as well as the reality.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if the man be as good an actor as Mr. Hervey,” said, Lady Delacour, + “and if he suit ‘the action to the word’—‘the word to the action.’” + </p> + <p> + Belinda never raised her eyes whilst her ladyship uttered these words; Mr. + Vincent was, or seemed to be, so deeply engaged in looking for something + in the book, which he held in his hand, that he could take no farther part + in the conversation; and a dead silence ensued. + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour, who was naturally impatient in the extreme, especially in + the vindication of her friends, could not bear to see, as she did by + Belinda’s countenance, that she had not forgotten Marriott’s story of + Virginia St. Pierre; and though her ladyship was convinced that the <i>packet</i> + would clear up all mysteries, yet she could not endure that even in the + interim ‘poor Clarence’ should he unjustly suspected; nor could she + refrain from trying an expedient, which just occurred to her, to satisfy + herself and every body present. She was the first to break silence. + </p> + <p> + “To do ye justice, my friends, you are all good company this morning. Mr. + Vincent is excusable, because he is in love; and Belinda is excusable, + because—because—Mr. Hervey, pray help me to an excuse for Miss + Portman’s stupidity, for I am dreadfully afraid of blundering out the + truth. But why do I ask <i>you</i> to help me? In your present condition, + you seem totally unable to help yourself.—Not a word!—Run over + the common-places of conversation—weather—fashion—scandal—dress—deaths— + marriages.—Will none of these do? Suppose, then, you were to + entertain me with other people’s thoughts, since you have none of your own + unpacked—Forfeit to arbitrary power,” continued her ladyship, + playfully seizing Mr. Vincent’s book. “I have always observed that none + submit with so good a grace to arbitrary power from our sex as your true + men of spirit, who would shed the last drop of their blood to resist it + from one of their own. Inconsistent creatures, the best of you! So read + this charming little poem to us, Mr. Hervey, will you?” + </p> + <p> + He was going to begin immediately, but Lady Delacour put her hand upon the + book, and stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Stay; though I am tyrannical, I will not be treacherous. I warn you, + then, that I have imposed upon you a difficult, a dangerous task. If you + have any ‘sins unwhipt of justice,’ there are lines which I defy you to + read without faltering—listen to the preface.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship began as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Day, indeed, retained during all the period of his life, as might be + expected from his character, a strong detestation of female seduction——Happening + to see some verses, written by a young lady, on a recent event of this + nature, which was succeeded by a fatal catastrophe—the unhappy young + woman, who had been a victim to the perfidy of a lover, overpowered by her + sensibility of shame, having died of a broken heart—he expresses his + sympathy with the fair poetess in the following manner.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour paused, and fixed her eyes upon Clarence Hervey. He, with + all the appearance of conscious innocence, received the book, without + hesitation, from her hands, and read aloud the lines, to which she + pointed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Swear by the dread avengers of the tomb, + By all thy hopes, by death’s tremendous gloom, + That ne’er by thee deceived, the tender maid + Shall mourn her easy confidence betray’d, + Nor weep in secret the triumphant art, + With bitter anguish rankling in her heart; + So may each blessing, which impartial fate + Throws on the good, but snatches from the great, + Adorn thy favour’d course with rays divine, + And Heaven’s best gift, a virtuous love, be thine!” + </pre> + <p> + Mr. Hervey read these lines with so much unaffected, unembarrassed energy, + that Lady Delacour could not help casting a triumphant look at Belinda, + which said or seemed to say—you see I was right in my opinion of + Clarence! + </p> + <p> + Had Mr. Vincent been left to his own observations, he would have seen the + simple truth; but he was alarmed and deceived by Lady Delacour’s imprudent + expressions of joy, and by the significant looks that she gave her friend + Miss Portman, which seemed to be <i>looks of mutual intelligence</i>. He + scarcely dared to turn his eyes toward his mistress, or upon him whom he + thought his rival: but he kept them anxiously fixed upon her ladyship, in + whose face, as in a glass, he seemed to study every thing that was + passing. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, have you ever played at chess, since we saw you last?” said Lady + Delacour to Clarence. “I hope you do not forget that you are <i>my knight</i>. + I do not forget it, I assure you—I own you as my knight to all the + world, in public and private—do not I, Belinda?” + </p> + <p> + A dark cloud overspread Mr. Vincent’s brow—he listened not to + Belinda’s answer. Seized with a transport of jealousy, he darted at Mr. + Hervey a glance of mingled scorn and rage; and, after saying a few + unintelligible words to Miss Portman and Lady Delacour, he left the room. + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey, who seemed afraid to trust himself longer with Belinda, + withdrew a few minutes afterward. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Belinda,” exclaimed Lady Delacour, the moment that he was out of + the room, “how glad I am he is gone, that I may say all the good I think + of him! In the first place, Clarence Hervey loves you. Never was I so + fully convinced of it as this day. Why had we not that letter of his + sooner? that will explain all to us: but I ask for no explanation, I ask + for no letter, to confirm my opinion, my conviction—that he <i>loves</i> + you: on this point I <i>cannot</i> be mistaken—he fondly loves you.” + </p> + <p> + “He fondly loves her!—Yes, to be sure, I could have told you that + news long ago,” cried the dowager Lady Boucher, who was in the room before + they were aware of her entrance; they had both been so eager, the one + listening, and the other speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Fondly loves her!” repeated the dowager: “yes; and no secret, I promise + you, Lady Delacour:” and then, turning to Belinda, she began a + congratulatory speech, upon the report of her approaching marriage with + Mr. Vincent. Belinda absolutely denied the truth of this report: but the + dowager continued, “I distress you, I see, and it’s quite out of rule, I + am sensible, to speak in this sort of way, Miss Portman; but as I’m an old + acquaintance, and an old friend, and an old woman, you’ll excuse me. I + can’t help saying, I feel quite rejoiced at your meeting with such a + match.” Belinda again attempted to declare that she was not going to be + married; but the invincible dowager went on: “Every way eligible, and + every way agreeable. A charming young man, I hear, Lady Delacour: I see I + must only speak to you, or I shall make Miss Portman sink to the centre of + the earth, which I would not wish to do, especially at such a critical + moment as this. A charming young man, I hear, with a noble West Indian + fortune, and a noble spirit, and well connected, and passionately in love—no + wonder. But I have done now, I promise you; I’ll ask no questions: so + don’t run away, Miss Portman; I’ll ask no questions, I promise you.” + </p> + <p> + To ensure the performance of the promise, Lady Delacour asked what news + there was in the world? This question, she knew, would keep the dowager in + delightful employment. “I live quite out of the world here; but since Lady + Boucher has the charity to come to see me, we shall hear all the ‘secrets + worth knowing,’ from the best authority.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, the first piece of news I have for you is, that my Lord and my Lady + Delacour are absolutely reconciled; and that they are the happiest couple + that ever lived.” + </p> + <p> + “All very true,” replied Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “True!” repeated Lady Boucher: “why, my dear Lady Delacour, you amaze me!—Are + you in earnest?—Was there ever any thing so provoking?—There + have I been contradicting the report, wherever I went; for I was convinced + that the whole story was a mistake, and a fabrication.” + </p> + <p> + “The history of the reformation might not be exact, but the reformation + itself your ladyship may depend upon, since you hear it from my own lips.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, how amazing! how incredible!—Lord bless me! But your ladyship + certainly is not in earnest? for you look just the same, and speak just in + the same sort of way: I see no alteration, I confess.” + </p> + <p> + “And what alteration, my good Lady Boucher, did you expect to see? Did you + think that, by way of being exemplarily virtuous, I should, like Lady Q——, + let my sentences come out of my mouth only at the rate of a word a minute? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Like—minute—drops—from—off—the—eaves.’ +</pre> + <p> + Or did you expect that, in hopes of being a pattern for the rising + generation, I should hold my features in penance, immoveably, thus—like + some of the poor ladies of Antigua, who, after they have blistered their + faces all over, to get a fine complexion, are forced, whilst the new skin + is coming, to sit without speaking, smiling, or moving muscle or feature, + lest an indelible wrinkle should be the consequence?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Boucher was impatient to have this speech finished, for she had a + piece of news to tell. “Well!” cried she, “there’s no knowing what to + believe or disbelieve, one hears so many strange reports; but I have a + piece of news for you, that you may all depend upon. I have one secret + worth knowing, I can tell your ladyship—and one, your ladyship and + Miss Portman, I’m sure, will be rejoiced to hear. Your friend, Clarence + Hervey, is going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “Married! married!” cried Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, your ladyship may look as much astonished as you please, you + cannot be more so than I was when I heard it. Clarence Hervey, Miss + Portman, that was looked upon so completely, you know, as not a marrying + man; and now the last man upon earth that your ladyship would suspect of + marrying in this sort of way!” + </p> + <p> + “In what sort of way?—My dear Belinda, how can you stand this fire?” + said Lady Delacour, placing a skreen, dexterously, to hide her face from + the dowager’s observation. + </p> + <p> + “Now only guess whom he is going to marry,” continued Lady Boucher: “whom + do <i>you</i> guess, Miss Portman?” + </p> + <p> + “An amiable woman, I should guess, from Mr. Hervey’s general character,” + cried Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, an amiable woman, I take for granted; every woman is amiable of + course, as the newspapers tell us, when she is going to be married,” said + the dowager: “an amiable woman, to be sure; but that means nothing. I have + not had a guess from Miss Portman.” + </p> + <p> + “From general character,” Belinda began, in a constrained voice. + </p> + <p> + “Do not guess from general character, my dear Belinda,” interrupted Lady + Delacour; “for there is no judging, in these cases, from general + character, of what people will like or dislike.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will leave it to your ladyship to guess this time, if you please,” + said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “You will neither of you guess till doomsday!” cried the dowager; “I must + tell you. Mr. Hervey’s going to marry—in the strangest sort of way!—a + girl that nobody knows—a daughter of a Mr. Hartley. The father can + give her a good fortune, it is true; but one should not have supposed that + fortune was an object with Mr. Hervey, who has such a noble one of his + own. It’s really difficult to believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “So difficult, that I find it quite impossible,” said Lady Delacour, with + an incredulous smile. + </p> + <p> + “Depend upon it, my dear Lady Delacour,” said the dowager, laying the + convincing weight of her arm upon her ladyship’s, “depend upon it, my dear + Lady Delacour, that my information is correct. Guess whom I had it from.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly. But first let me tell you, that I have seen Mr. Hervey within + this half hour, and I never saw a man look less like a bridegroom.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! well, I’ve heard, too, that he didn’t like the match: but what a + pity, when you saw him yourself this morning, that you didn’t get all the + particulars out of him. But let him look like what he will, you’ll find + that my information is perfectly correct. Guess whom I had it from—from + Mrs. Margaret Delacour: it was at her house that Clarence Hervey first met + Mr. Hartley, who, as I mentioned, is the father of the young lady. There + was a charming scene, and some romantic story, about his finding the girl + in a cottage, and calling her Virginia something or other, but I didn’t + clearly understand about that. However, this much is certain, that the + girl, as her father told Mrs. Delacour, is desperately in love with Mr. + Hervey, and they are to be married immediately. Depend upon it, you’ll + find my information correct. Good morning to you. Lord bless me! now I + recollect, I once heard that Mr. Hervey was a great admirer of Miss + Portman,” said the dowager. + </p> + <p> + The inquisitive dowager, whose curiosity was put upon a new scent, + immediately fastened her eyes upon Belinda’s face; but from that she could + make out nothing. Was it because she had not the best eyes, or because + there was nothing to be seen? To determine this question, she looked + through her glass, to take a clearer view; but Lady Delacour drew off her + attention, by suddenly exclaiming—“My dear Lady Boucher, when you go + back to town, do send me a bottle of concentrated anima of quassia.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ah! have I made a convert of you at last?” said the dowager; and, + satisfied with the glory of this conversion, she departed. + </p> + <p> + “Admire my knowledge of human nature, my dear Belinda,” said Lady + Delacour. “Now she will talk, at the next place she goes to, of nothing + but of my faith in anima of quassia; and she will forget to make a + gossiping story out of that most imprudent hint I gave her, about Clarence + Hervey’s having been an admirer of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not leave the room, Belinda; I have a thousand things to say to you, + my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, at present, my dear Lady Delacour; I am impatient to write a + few lines to Mr. Vincent. He went away—” + </p> + <p> + “In a fit of jealousy, and I am glad of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am sorry for it,” said Belinda; “sorry that he should have so + little confidence in me as to feel jealousy without cause—without + sufficient cause, I should say; for certainly your ladyship gave pain, by + the manner in which you received Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, my dear, you would spoil any man upon earth. You could not act more + foolishly if the man were your husband. Are you privately married to him?—If + you be not—for my sake—for your own—for Mr. Vincent’s—do + not write till we see the contents of Clarence Hervey’s packet.” + </p> + <p> + “It <i>can</i> make no alteration in what I write,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, write what you please; but I only hope you will not send + your letter till the packet arrives.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, I shall send it as soon as I possibly can: the ‘dear delight + of giving pain’ does not suit my taste.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour, as soon as she was left alone, began to reconsider the + dowager’s story; notwithstanding her unbelieving smile, it alarmed her, + for she could not refuse to give it some degree of credit, when she learnt + that Mrs. Margaret Delacour was the authority from whom it came. Mrs. + Delacour was a woman of scrupulous veracity, and rigid in her dislike to + gossiping; so that it was scarcely probable a report originating with her, + however it might be altered by the way, should prove to be totally void of + foundation. The name of Virginia coincided with Sir Philip Baddely’s + hints, and with Marriott’s discoveries: these circumstances considered, + Lady Delacour knew not what opinion to form; and her eagerness to receive + Mr. Hervey’s packet every moment increased. She walked up and down the + room—looked at her watch—fancied that it had stopped—held + it to her ear—ran the bell every quarter of an hour, to inquire + whether the messenger was not <i>yet</i> come back. At last, the + long-expected packet arrived. She seized it, and hurried with it + immediately to Belinda’s room. + </p> + <p> + “Clarence Hervey’s packet, my love!—Now, woe be to the person who + interrupts us!” She bolted the door as she spoke—. rolled an + arm-chair to the fire—“Now for it!” said she, seating herself. “The + devil upon two sticks, if he were looking down upon me from the house-top, + or Champfort, who is the worse devil of the two, would, if he were peeping + through the keyhole, swear I was going to open a love-letter—and so + I hope I am. Now for it!” cried she, breaking the seal. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” said Belinda, laying her hand upon Lady Delacour’s, + “before we open this packet, let me speak to you, whilst our minds are + calm.” + </p> + <p> + “Calm! It is the strangest time for your mind to be calm. But I must not + affront you by my incredulity. Speak, then, but be quick, for I do not + pretend to be calm; it not being, thank my stars, <i>‘mon métier d’être + philosophe.‘</i> Crack goes the last seal—speak now, or for ever + after hold your tongue, my <i>calm philosopher </i>of Oakly-park: but do + you wish me to attend to what you are going to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Belinda, smiling; “that is the usual wish of those who + speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true: and I can listen tolerably well, when I don’t know what people + are going to say; but when I know it all beforehand, I have an unfortunate + habit of not being able to attend to one word. Now, my dear, let me + anticipate your speech, and if my anticipation be wrong, then you shall + rise to explain; and I will,” said she, (putting her finger on her lips,) + “listen to you, like Harpocrates, without moving an eyelash.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda, as the most certain way of being heard, consented to hear before + she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” pursued Lady Delacour, “if not what you are going to + say to me, at least what you say to yourself, which is fully as much to + the purpose. You say to yourself, ‘Let this packet of Clarence Hervey + contain what it may, it comes too late. Let him say, or let him do, ‘tis + all the same to me—because—(now for the reasoning)—because + things have gone so far with Mr. Vincent, that Lady Anne Percival and all + the world (at Oakly-park) will blame me, if I retract. In short, <i>things + have gone so far</i> that I cannot recede; because—<i>things have + gone so far</i>.’ This is the rondeau of your argument. Nay, hear me out, + then you shall have your turn, my dear, for an hour, if you please. Let + things have gone ever so far, they can stop, and turn about again, cannot + they? Lady Anne Percival is your friend, of course can wish only for your + happiness. You think she is ‘the thing that’s most uncommon, a reasonable + woman:’ then she cannot be angry with you for being happy your own way. So + I need not, as the orators say, <i>labour this point any more</i>. Now, as + to your aunt. The fear of displeasing Mrs. Stanhope a little more or less + is not to be put in competition with the hope of your happiness for life, + especially as you have contrived to exist some months in a state of utter + excommunication from her favour. After all, you know she will not grieve + for any thing but the loss of Mr. Vincent’s fortune; and Mr. Hervey’s + fortune might do as well, or almost as well: at least, she may compound + with her pride for the difference, by considering that an English member + of parliament is, in the eyes of the world (the only eyes with which she + sees), a better connexion than the son of a West India planter, even + though he may be a protégé of Lady Anne Percival. + </p> + <p> + “Spare me your indignation, my dear!—What a look was there!—Reasoning + for Mrs. Stanhope, must not I reason as Mrs. Stanhope does?—Now I + will put this stronger still. Suppose that you had actually acknowledged + that Mr. Vincent had got beyond esteem with you; suppose that you had in + due form consented to marry him; suppose that preparations were at this + moment making for the wedding; even in that desperate case I should say to + you, you are not a girl to marry because your wedding-gown is made up. + Some few guineas are thrown away, perhaps; do not throw away your whole + happiness after them—that would be sorry economy. Trust me, my dear, + I should say, as I have to you, in time of need. Or, if you fear to be + obliged to one who never was afraid of being obliged to you, ten to one + the preparations for <i>a</i> wedding, though not <i>the</i> wedding, may + be necessary immediately. No matter to Mrs. Franks who the bridegroom may + be; so that her bill be paid, she would not care the turning of a feather + whether it be paid by Mrs. Vincent or Mrs. Hervey. I hope I have + convinced, I am sure I have made you blush, my dear, and that is some + satisfaction. A blush at this moment is an earnest of victory. Lo, + triumphe! Now I will open my packet; my hand shall not be held an instant + longer.” + </p> + <p> + “I absolve you from the penance of hearing me for an hour, but I claim + your promise to attend to me for a few minutes, my dear friend,” said + Belinda: “I thank you most sincerely for your kindness; and let me assure + you that I should not hesitate to accept from you any species of + obligation.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks! thanks!—there’s a dear good girl!—my own Belinda!” + </p> + <p> + “But indeed you totally misunderstand me; your reasoning—” + </p> + <p> + “Show me the fault of it: I challenge all the logic of all the Percivals.” + </p> + <p> + “Your reasoning is excellent, if your facts were not taken for granted. + You have taken it for granted, that Mr. Hervey is in love with me.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lady Delacour; “I take nothing for granted, as you will find + when I open this packet.” + </p> + <p> + “You have taken it for granted,” continued Belinda, “that I am still + secretly attached to him; and you take it for granted that I am restrained + only by fear of Lady Anne Percival, my aunt, and the world, from breaking + off with Mr. Vincent: if you will read the letter, which I was writing to + him when you came into the room, perhaps you will be convinced of your + mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Read a letter to Mr. Vincent at such a time as this! then I will go and + read my packet in my own room,” cried Lady Delacour, rising hastily, with + evident displeasure. + </p> + <p> + “Not even your displeasure, my dear friend,” said Belinda, “can alter my + determination to behave with consistency and openness towards Mr. Vincent; + and I can bear your anger, for I know it arises from your regard for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I never loved you so little as at this instant, Belinda.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do me justice when you are cool.” + </p> + <p> + “Cool!” repeated Lady Delacour, as she was about to leave the room, “I + never wish to be as cool as you are, Belinda! So, after all, you love Mr. + Vincent—you’ll marry Mr. Vincent!” + </p> + <p> + “I never said so,” replied Belinda: “you have not read my letter. Oh, Lady + Delacour, at this instant—you should not reproach me.” + </p> + <p> + “I did you injustice,” cried Lady Delacour, as she now looked at Belinda’s + letter. “Send it—send it—you have said the very thing you + ought; and now sit down with me to this packet of Clarence Hervey’s—be + just to him, as you are to Mr. Vincent, that’s all I ask—give him a + fair hearing:—now for it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. — VIRGINIA + </h2> + <p> + Clarence Hervey’s packet contained a history of his connexion with + Virginia St. Pierre. + </p> + <p> + To save our hero from the charge of egotism, we shall relate the principal + circumstances in the third person. + </p> + <p> + It was about a year before he had seen Belinda that Clarence Hervey + returned from his travels; he had been in France just before the + Revolution, when luxury and dissipation were at their height in Paris, and + when a universal spirit of licentious gallantry prevailed. Some + circumstances in which he was personally interested disgusted him strongly + with the Parisian belles; he felt that women who were full of vanity, + affectation, and artifice, whose tastes were perverted, and whose feelings + were depraved, were equally incapable of conferring or enjoying real + happiness. Whilst this conviction was full in his mind, he read the works + of Rousseau: this eloquent writer’s sense made its full impression upon + Clarence’s understanding, and his declamations produced more than their + just effect upon an imagination naturally ardent. He was charmed with the + picture of Sophia, when contrasted with the characters of the women of the + world with whom he had been disgusted; and he formed the romantic project + of educating a wife for himself. Full of this idea, he returned to + England, determined to carry his scheme immediately into execution, but + was some time delayed by the difficulty of finding a proper object for his + purpose: it was easy to meet with beauty in distress, and ignorance in + poverty; but it was difficult to find simplicity without vulgarity, + ingenuity without cunning, or even ignorance without prejudice; it was + difficult to meet with an understanding totally uncultivated, yet likely + to reward the labour of late instruction; a heart wholly unpractised, yet + full of sensibility, capable of all the enthusiasm of passion, the + delicacy of sentiment, and the firmness of rational constancy. It is not + wonderful that Mr. Hervey, with such high expectations, should not + immediately find them gratified. Disappointed in his first search, he did + not, however, relinquish his design; and at length, by accident, he + discovered, or thought that he discovered, an object formed expressly for + his purpose. + </p> + <p> + One fine evening in autumn, as he was riding through the New Forest, + charmed with the picturesque beauties of the place, he turned out of the + beaten road, and struck into a fresh track, which he pursued with + increasing delight, till the setting sun reminded him that it was + necessary to postpone his farther reflections on forest scenery, and that + it was time to think of finding his way out of the wood. He was now in the + most retired part of the forest, and he saw no path to direct him; but, as + he stopped to consider which way he should turn, a dog sprang from a + thicket, barking furiously at his horse: his horse was high-spirited, but + he was master of him, and he obliged the animal to stand quietly till the + dog, having barked himself hoarse, retreated of his own accord. Clarence + watched to see which way he would go, and followed him, in hopes of + meeting with the person to whom he belonged: he kept his guide in sight, + till he came into a beautiful glade, in the midst of which was a neat but + very small cottage, with numerous beehives in the garden, surrounded by a + profusion of rose-trees which were in full blow. This cultivated spot was + strikingly contrasted with the wildness of the surrounding scenery. As he + came nearer, Mr. Hervey saw a young girl watering the rose-trees, which + grew round the cottage, and an old woman beside her filling a basket with + the flowers. The old woman was like most other old women, except that she + had a remarkably benevolent countenance, and an air that had been acquired + in better days; but the young girl did not appear to Clarence like any + other young girl that he had ever seen. The setting sun shone upon her + countenance, the wind blew aside the ringlets of her light hair, and the + blush of modesty overspread her cheeks when she looked up at the stranger. + In her large blue eyes there was an expression of artless sensibility with + which Mr. Hervey was so powerfully struck that he remained for some + moments silent, totally forgetting that he came to ask his way out of the + forest. His horse had made so little noise upon the soft grass, that he + was within a few yards of them before he was perceived by the old woman. + As soon as she saw him, she turned abruptly to the young girl, put the + basket of roses into her hand, and bid her carry them into the house. As + she passed him, the girl, with a sweet innocent smile, held up the basket + to Clarence, and offered him one of the roses. + </p> + <p> + “Go in, Rachel!—go in, child,” said the old woman, in so loud and + severe a tone, that both Rachel and Mr. Hervey started; the basket was + overturned, and the roses all scattered upon the grass. Clarence, though + he attempted some apology, was by no means concerned for the accident, as + it detained Rachel some instants longer to collect her flowers, and gave + him an opportunity of admiring her finely shaped hands and arms, and the + ease and natural grace of her motions. + </p> + <p> + “Go in, Rachel,” repeated the old woman, in a still more severe tone; + “leave the roses there—I can pick them up as well as you, child—go + in.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at the old woman with astonishment, her eyes filled with + tears, and throwing down the roses that she held in her hand, she said, “I + <i>am</i> going, grandmother.” The door closed after her before Clarence + recollected himself sufficiently to tell the old lady how he had lost his + way, &c. Her severity vanished, as soon as her grand-daughter was safe + in the house, and with much readiness she showed him the road for which he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + As soon, however, as it was in his power, he returned thither; for he had + taken such good note of the place, that he easily found his way to the + spot, which appeared to him a terrestrial paradise. As he descended into + the valley, he heard the humming of bees, but he saw no smoke rising from + the cottage chimney—no dog barked—no living creature was to be + seen—the house door was shut—the window-shutters closed—all + was still. The place looked as if it had been deserted by all its + inhabitants: the roses had not been watered, many of them had shed their + leaves; and a basket half full of dead flowers was left in the middle of + the garden. Clarence alighted, and tried the latch of the door, but it was + fastened; he listened, but heard no sound; he walked round to the back of + the house: a small lattice window was half open, and, as he went toward + it, he thought he heard a low moaning voice; he gently pulled aside the + curtain, and peeped in at the window. The room was darkened, his eyes had + been dazzled by the sun, so that he could not, at first, see any object + distinctly; but he heard the moaning repeated at intervals, and a soft + voice at last said— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, speak to me!—speak to me once again—only once—only + once again, speak to me!” + </p> + <p> + The voice came from a corner of the room, to which he had not yet turned + his eyes: and as he drew aside more of the curtain, to let in more light, + a figure started up from the side of a bed, at which she had been + kneeling, and he saw the beautiful young girl, with her hair all + dishevelled, and the strongest expression of grief in her countenance. He + asked if he could do her any service. She beckoned to him to come in, and + then, pointing to the bed, on which the old woman was stretched, said— + </p> + <p> + “She cannot speak to me—she cannot move one side—she has been + so these three days—but she is not dead—she is not dead!” + </p> + <p> + The poor creature had been struck with the palsy. As Clarence went close + to the bed, she opened her eyes, and fixing them upon him, she stretched + out her withered hand, caught fast hold of her grand-daughter, and then + raising herself, with a violent effort, she pronounced the word “Begone!” + Her face grew black, her features convulsed, and she sunk down again in + her bed, without power of utterance. Clarence left the house instantly, + mounted his horse, and galloped to the next town for medical assistance. + The poor woman was so far recovered by a skilful apothecary, that she + could, in a few days, articulate so as to be understood. She knew that her + end was approaching fast, and seemed piously resigned to her fate. Mr. + Hervey went constantly to see her; but, though grateful to him for his + humanity, and for the assistance he had procured for her, yet she appeared + agitated when he was in the room, and frequently looked at him and at her + grand-daughter with uncommon anxiety. At last, she whispered something to + the girl, who immediately left the room; and she then beckoned to him to + come closer to the arm-chair, in which she was seated. + </p> + <p> + “May be, sir,” said she, “you thought me out of my right mind the day when + I was lying on that bed, and said to you in such a peremptory tone, + ‘Begone!’—It was all I could say then; and, in truth, I cannot speak + quite plain yet; nor ever shall again. But God’s will be done. I had only + one thing to say to you, sir, about that poor girl of mine—” + </p> + <p> + Clarence listened to her with eagerness. She paused, and then laying her + cold hand upon his, she looked up earnestly in his face, and continued, + “You are a fine young gentleman, and you look like a good gentleman; but + so did the man who broke the heart of her poor mother. Her mother was + carried off from a boarding-school, when she was scarcely sixteen, by a + wretch, who, after privately marrying her, would not own his marriage, + stayed with her but two years, then went abroad, left his wife and his + infant, and has never been heard of since. My daughter died of a broken + heart. Rachel was then between three and four years old; a beautiful + child. God forgive her father!—God’s will be done!”—She paused + to subdue her emotion, and then, with some difficulty, proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “My only comfort is, I have bred Rachel up in innocence; I never sent her + to a boarding-school. No, no; from the moment of her birth till now, I + have kept her under my own eye. In this cottage she has lived with me, + away from all the world. You are the first man she ever spoke to; the + first man who ever was within these doors. She is innocence itself!—Oh, + sir, as you hope for mercy when you are as I am now, spare the innocence + of that poor child!—Never, never come here after her, when I am dead + and gone! Consider, she is but a child, sir. God never made a better + creature. Oh, promise me you will not be the ruin of my sweet innocent + girl, and I shall die in peace!” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey was touched. He instantly made the promise required of + him; and, as nothing less would satisfy the poor dying woman, confirmed it + by a solemn oath. + </p> + <p> + “Now I am easy,” said she, “quite easy; and may God bless you for it! In + the village here, there is a Mrs. Smith, a good farmer’s wife, who knows + us well; she will see to have me decently buried, and then has promised to + sell all the little I have for my girl, and to take care of her. And + you’ll never come near her more?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not promise that,” said Hervey. + </p> + <p> + The old woman again looked much disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good young gentleman!” said she, “take my advice; it will be best for + you both. If you see her again, you will love her, sir—you can’t + help it; and if she sees you—poor thing, how innocently she smiled + when she gave you the rose!—oh, sir, never come near her when I am + gone! It is too late for me now to get her out of your way. This night, + I’m sure, will be my last in this world—oh, promise me you will + never come here again!” + </p> + <p> + “After the oath I have taken,” replied Clarence, “that promise would be + unnecessary. Trust to my honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Honour! Oh, that was the word the gentleman said that betrayed her poor + mother, and left her afterwards to die.’—Oh, sir, sir——” + </p> + <p> + The violent emotion that she felt was too much for her—she fell back + exhausted—never spoke more—and an hour afterwards she expired + in the arms of her grand-daughter. The poor girl could not believe that + she had breathed her last. She made a sign to the surgeon, and to Clarence + Hervey, who stood beside her, to be silent; and listened, fancying that + the corpse would breathe again. Then she kissed her cold lips, and the + shrivelled cheeks, and the eyelids that were closed for ever. She warmed + the dead fingers with her breath—she raised the heavy arm, and when + it fell she perceived there was no hope: she threw herself upon her knees:—“She + is dead!” she exclaimed; “and she has died without giving me her blessing! + She can never bless me again.” + </p> + <p> + They took her into the air, and Clarence Hervey sprinkled water upon her + face. It was a fine night, and the fresh air soon brought her to her + senses. He then said that he would leave her to the care of the surgeon, + and ride to the village in search of that Mrs. Smith who had promised to + be her friend. + </p> + <p> + “And so <i>you</i> are going away from me, too?” said she; and she burst + into tears. At the sight of these tears Clarence turned away, and hurried + from her. He sent the woman from the village, but returned no more that + night. + </p> + <p> + Her simplicity, sensibility, and, perhaps more than he was aware, her + beauty, had pleased and touched him extremely. The idea of attaching a + perfectly pure, disinterested, unpractised heart, was delightful to his + imagination: the cultivation of her understanding, he thought, would be an + easy and a pleasing task: all difficulties vanished before his sanguine + hopes. + </p> + <p> + “Sensibility,” said he to himself, “is the parent of great talents and + great virtues; and evidently she possesses natural feeling in an uncommon + degree: it shall be developed with skill, patience, and delicacy; and I + will deserve before I claim my reward.” + </p> + <p> + The next day he returned to the cottage, accompanied by an elderly lady, a + Mrs. Ormond; the same lady who afterward, to Marriott’s prejudiced eyes, + had appeared <i>more like a dragon than any thing else</i>, but who, to + this simple, unsuspicious girl, seemed like what she really was, a truly + good-natured, benevolent woman. She consented, most readily, to put + herself under the protection of Mrs. Ormond, “provided Mrs. Smith would + give her leave.” There was no difficulty in persuading Mrs. Smith that it + was for her advantage. Mrs. Smith, who was a plain farmer’s wife, told all + that she knew of Rachel’s history; but all that she knew was little. She + had heard only hints at odd times from the old woman: these agreed + perfectly with what Mr. Hervey had already heard. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>old gentlewoman</i>,” said Mrs. Smith, “as I believe I should call + her by rights, has lived in the forest there, where you found her, these + many a year—she earned her subsistence by tending bees and making + rose-water—she was a good soul, but very particular, especially + about her grand-daughter, which, considering all things, one cannot blame + her for. She often told me she would never put Rachel to a + boarding-school, which I approved, seeing she had no fortune; and it is + the ruin of girls, to my mind, to be bred above their means—as it + was of her mother, sir. Then she would never teach Rachel to write, for + fear she should take to scrawling nonsense of love-letters, as her mother + did before her. Now, sir, this I approved too, for I don’t much mind about + book-learning myself; and I even thought it would have been as well if the + girl had not learnt to read; but that she did learn, and was always fond + of, and I’m sure it was more plague than use too to her grandmother, for + she was as particular about the books that the girl was to read as about + all the rest. She went farther than all that, sir, for she never would let + the girl speak to a man—not a man ever entered the doors of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “So she told me.” + </p> + <p> + “And she told you true enough. But there, I thought, she was quite wrong; + for seeing the girl must, some time or other, speak to men, where was the + use of her not learning to do it properly?—Lord, ma’am,” continued + Mrs. Smith, addressing herself to Mrs. Ormond, “Lord, ma’am, though it is + a sin to be remembering so much of the particularities of the dead, I must + say there never was an old lady who had more scrupulosities than the + deceased. I verily thought, one day, she would have gone into fits about a + picture of a man, that Rachel lit upon by accident, as if a picture had + any sense to hurt a body! Now if it had been one of your naked pictures, + there might have been some delicacy in her dislike to it; but it was no + such thing, but a very proper picture. + </p> + <p> + “A picture, ma’am, of a young sea-officer, in his full uniform—quite + proper, ma’am. It was his mother that left it with me, and I had it always + in my own room, and the girl saw it, and was mightily taken with it, being + the first thing of the kind she had ever lit upon, and the old lady comes + in, <i>and took on</i>, till I verily thought she was crazed. Lord! I + really could not but laugh; but I checked myself, when the poor old soul’s + eyes filled with tears, which made me know she was thinking of her + daughter that was dead. When I thought on the cause of her particularity + about Rachel, I could not laugh any more at her strangeness. + </p> + <p> + “I promised the good lady that day, in case of her death, to take care of + her grand-daughter; and I thought in my own mind that, in time to come, if + one of my boys should take a fancy to her, I should make no objections, + because she was always a good, modest-behaved girl; and, I’m sure, would + make a good wife, though too delicate for hard country work; but, as it + pleases God to send you, madam, and the good gentleman, to take the charge + of her off my hands, I am content it should be so, and I will sell every + thing here for her honestly, and bring it to you, madam, for poor Rachel.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing that Rachel was anxious to carry away with her but a + little bullfinch, of which she was very fond. One, and but one, + circumstance about Rachel stopped the current of Clarence Hervey’s + imagination, and this, consequently, was excessively disagreeable to him—her + name: the name of Rachel he could not endure, and he thought it so + unsuited to her, that he could scarcely believe it belonged to her. He + consequently resolved to change it as soon as possible. The first time + that he beheld her, he was struck with the idea that she resembled the + description of Virginia in M. de St. Pierre’s celebrated romance; and by + this name he always called her, from the hour that she quitted her + cottage. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond, the lady whom he had engaged to take care of his Virginia, + was a widow, the mother of a gentleman who had been his tutor at college. + Her son died, and left her in such narrow circumstances, that she was + obliged to apply to her friends for pecuniary assistance. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey had been liberal in his contributions; from his childhood he + had known her worth, and her attachment to him was blended with the most + profound respect. She was not a woman of superior abilities, or of much + information; but her excellent temper and gentle disposition won + affection, though she had not any talents to excite admiration. Mr. Hervey + had perfect confidence in her integrity; he believed that she would + exactly comply with his directions, and he thought that her want of + literature and ingenuity could easily be supplied by his own care and + instructions. He took a house for her and his fair pupil at Windsor, and + he exacted a solemn promise that she would neither receive nor pay any + visits. Virginia was thus secluded from all intercourse with the world: + she saw no one but Mrs. Ormond, Clarence Hervey, and Mr. Moreton, an + elderly clergyman, whom Mr. Hervey engaged to attend every Sunday to read + prayers for them at home. Virginia never expressed the slightest curiosity + to see any other persons, or any thing beyond the walls of the garden that + belonged to the house in which she lived; her present retirement was not + greater than that to which she had long been accustomed, and consequently + she did not feel her seclusion from the world as any restraint: with the + circumstances that were altered in her situation she seemed neither to be + dazzled nor charmed; the objects of convenience or luxury that were new to + her she looked upon with indifference; but with any thing that reminded + her of her former way of life, and of her grandmother’s cottage, she was + delighted. + </p> + <p> + One day Mr. Hervey asked her, whether she should like better to return to + that cottage, or to remain where she was? He trembled for her answer. She + innocently replied, “I should like best to go back to the cottage, if you + would go with me—but I would rather stay here with you than live + there without you.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence was touched and flattered by this artless answer, and for some + time he discovered every day fresh indications, as he thought, of virtue + and abilities in his charming pupil. Her indifference to objects of show + and ornament appeared to him an indisputable proof of her magnanimity, and + of the superiority of her unprejudiced mind. What a difference, thought + he, between this child of nature and the frivolous, sophisticated slaves + of art! + </p> + <p> + To try and prove the simplicity of her taste, and the purity of her mind, + he once presented to her a pair of diamond earrings and a moss rosebud, + and asked her to take whichever she liked best. She eagerly snatched the + rose, crying, “Oh! it puts me in mind of the cottage:—how sweet it + smells!” + </p> + <p> + She placed it in her bosom, and then, looking at the diamonds, said, “They + are pretty, sparkling things—what are they? of what use are they?” + and she looked with more curiosity and admiration at the manner in which + the earring shut and opened than at the diamonds. Clarence was charmed + with her. When Mrs. Ormond told her that these things were to hang in her + ears, she laughed and said, “How! how can I make them hang?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never observed that I wear earrings?” said Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “Ay! but yours are not like these, and—let me look—I never saw + how you fastened them—let me look—oh! you have holes in your + ears; but I have none in mine.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond told her that holes could easily be made in her ears, by + running a steel pin through them. She shrunk back, defending her ear with + one hand, and pushing the diamonds from her with the other, exclaiming, + “Oh, no, no!—unless,” added she, changing her tone, and turning to + Clarence, “unless you wish it:—if you bid me, I will.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence was scarcely master of himself at this instant; and it was with + the utmost difficulty that he could reply to her with that dispassionate + calmness which became his situation and hers. And yet there was more of + ignorance and timidity, perhaps, than of sound sense or philosophy in + Virginia’s indifference to diamonds; she did not consider them as + ornaments that would confer distinction upon their possessor, because she + was ignorant of the value affixed to them by society. Isolated in the + world, she had no excitements to the love of finery, no competition, no + means of comparison, or opportunities of display; diamonds were + consequently as useless to her as guineas were to Robinson Crusoe on his + desert island. It could not justly be said that he was free from avarice, + because he set no value on the gold; or that she was free from vanity, + because she rejected the diamonds. These reflections could not possibly + have escaped a man of Clarence Hervey’s abilities, had he not been engaged + in defence of a favourite system of education, or if his pupil had not + been quite so handsome. Virginia’s absolute ignorance of the world + frequently gave an air of originality to her most trivial observations, + which made her appear at once interesting and entertaining. All her ideas + of happiness were confined to the life she had led during her childhood; + and as she had accidentally lived in a beautiful situation in the New + Forest, she appeared to have an instinctive taste for the beauties of + nature, and for what we call the picturesque. This taste Mr. Hervey + perceived, whenever he showed her prints and drawings, and it was a fresh + source of delight and self-complacency to him. All that was amiable or + estimable in Virginia had a double charm, from the secret sense of his + penetration, in having discovered and appreciated the treasure. The + affections of this innocent girl had no object but himself and Mrs. + Ormond, and they were strong, perhaps, in proportion as they were + concentrated. The artless familiarity of her manner, and her unsuspicious + confidence, amounting almost to credulity, had irresistible power over Mr. + Hervey’s mind; he felt them as appeals at once to his tenderness and his + generosity. He treated her with the utmost delicacy, and his oath was + never absent from his mind: but he felt proudly convinced, that if he had + not been bound by any such solemn engagement, no temptation could have + made him deceive and betray confiding innocence. + </p> + <p> + Conscious that his views were honourable, anticipating the generous + pleasure he should have in showing his superiority to all mercenary + considerations and worldly prejudices, in the choice of a wife, he + indulged, with a species of pride, his increasing attachment to Virginia; + but he was not sensible of the rapid progress of the passion, till he was + suddenly awakened by a few simple observations of Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “This is Virginia’s birthday—she tells me she is seventeen to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen!—is she only seventeen?” cried Clarence, with a mixture + of surprise and disappointment in his countenance—“Only seventeen! + Why she is but a child still.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a child,” said Mrs. Ormond; “and so much the better.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse, I think,” said Clarence. “But are you sure she’s only + seventeen?—she must be mistaken—she must be eighteen, at + least.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!—Why, Mrs. Ormond?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, you know, we have a year more before us.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be a very satisfactory prospect to you,” said Mr. Hervey, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And to you, surely,” said Mrs. Ormond; “for, I suppose, you would be glad + that your wife should, at least, know the common things that every body + knows.” + </p> + <p> + “As to that,” said Clarence, “I should be glad that my wife were ignorant + of what <i>every body knows</i>. Nothing is so tiresome to a man of any + taste or abilities as <i>what every body knows</i>. I am rather desirous + to have a wife who has an uncommon than a common understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “But you would choose, would not you,” said Mrs. Ormond, hesitating with + an air of great deference, “that your wife should know how to write?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” replied Clarence, colouring. “Does not Virginia know how to + write?” + </p> + <p> + “How should she?” said Mrs. Ormond: “it is no fault of hers, poor girl—she + was never taught. You know it was her grandmother’s notion that she should + not learn to write, lest she should write love-letters.” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>you</i> promised that she should be taught to write, and I trusted + to you, Mrs. Ormond.” + </p> + <p> + “She has been here only two months, and all that time, I am sure, I have + done every thing in my power; but when a person comes to be sixteen or + seventeen, it is up-hill work.” + </p> + <p> + “I will teach her myself,” cried Clarence: “I am sure she may be taught + any thing.” + </p> + <p> + “By you,” said Mrs. Ormond, smiling; “but not by me.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no doubts of her capacity, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “I am no judge of capacity, especially of the capacity of those I love; + and I am grown very fond of Virginia; she is a charming, open-hearted, + simple, affectionate creature. I rather think it is from indolence that + she does not learn, and not from want of abilities.” + </p> + <p> + “All indolence arises from want of excitement,” said Clarence: “if she had + proper motives, she would conquer her indolence.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I dare say, if I were to tell her that she would never have a letter + from Mr. Hervey till she is able to write an answer, she would learn to + write very expeditiously; but I thought that would not be a proper motive, + because you forbade me to tell her your future views. And indeed it would + be highly imprudent, on your account, as well as hers, to give her any + hint of that kind: because you might change your mind, before she’s old + enough for you to think of her seriously, and then you would not know what + to do with her; and after entertaining hopes of becoming your wife, she + would be miserable, I am sure, with that affectionate tender heart of + hers, if you were to leave her. Now that she knows nothing of the matter, + we are all safe, and as we should be.” + </p> + <p> + Though Clarence Hervey did not at this time foresee any great probability + of his changing his mind, yet he felt the good sense and justice of Mrs. + Ormond’s suggestions; and he was alarmed to perceive that his mind had + been so intoxicated as to suffer such obvious reflections to escape his + attention. Mrs. Ormond, a woman whom he had been accustomed to consider as + far his inferior in capacity, he now felt was superior to him in prudence, + merely because she was undisturbed by passion. He resolved to master his + own mind: to consider that it was not a mistress, but a wife he wanted in + Virginia; that a wife without capacity or without literature could never + be a companion suited to him, let her beauty or sensibility be ever so + exquisite and captivating. The happiness of his life and of hers were at + stake, and every motive of prudence and delicacy called upon him to + command his affections. He was, however, still sanguine in his + expectations from Virginia’s understanding, and from his own power of + developing her capacity. He made several attempts, with the greatest skill + and patience; and his fair pupil, though she did not by any means equal + his hopes, astonished Mrs. Ormond by her comparatively rapid progress. + </p> + <p> + “I always believed that you could make her any thing you pleased,” said + she. “You are a tutor who can work miracles with Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “I see no miracles,” replied Clarence; “I am conscious of no such power. I + should be sorry to possess any such influence, until I am sure that it + would be for our mutual happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey then conjured Mrs. Ormond, by all her attachment to him and to + her pupil, never to give Virginia the most distant idea that he had any + intentions of making her his wife. She promised to do all that was in her + power to keep this secret, but she could not help observing that it had + already been betrayed, as plainly as looks could speak, by Mr. Hervey + himself. Clarence in vain endeavoured to exculpate himself from this + charge: Mrs. Ormond brought to his recollection so many instances of his + indiscretion, that it was substantiated even in his own judgment, and he + was amazed to find that all the time he had put so much constraint upon + his inclinations, he had, nevertheless, so obviously betrayed them. His + surprise, however, was at this time unmixed with any painful regret; he + did not foresee the probability that he should change his mind; and + notwithstanding Mrs. Ormond assured him that Virginia’s sensibility had + increased, he was persuaded that she was mistaken, and that his pupil’s + heart and imagination were yet untouched. The innocent openness with which + she expressed her affection for him confirmed him, he said, in his + opinion. To do him justice, Clarence had none of the presumption which too + often characterizes men who have been successful, as it is called, with + the fair sex. His acquaintance with women had increased his persuasion + that it is difficult to excite genuine love in the heart; and with respect + to himself, he was upon this subject astonishingly incredulous. It was + scarcely possible to convince him that he was beloved. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond, piqued upon this subject, determined to ascertain more + decisively her pupil’s sentiments. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said she, one day to Virginia, who was feeding her bullfinch, + “I do believe you are fonder of that bird than of any thing in the world—fonder + of it, I am sure, than of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you cannot think so,” said Virginia, with an affectionate smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well! fonder than you are of Mr. Hervey, you will allow, at least?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed!” cried she, eagerly: “how can you think me so foolish, so + childish, so ungrateful, as to prefer a little worthless bird to him—” + (the bullfinch began to sing so loud at this instant, that her + enthusiastic speech was stopped). “My pretty bird,” said she, as it + perched upon her hand, “I love you very much, but if Mr. Hervey were to + ask it, to wish it, I would open that window, and let you fly; yes, and + bid you fly away far from me for ever. Perhaps he does wish it?—Does + he?—Did he tell you so?” cried she, looking earnestly in Mrs. + Ormond’s face, as she moved towards the window. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond put her hand upon the sash, as Virginia was going to throw it + up— + </p> + <p> + “Gently, gently, my love—whither is your imagination carrying you?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought <i>something</i> by your look,” said Virginia, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “And I thought <i>something</i>, my dear Virginia,” said Mrs. Ormond, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “What did you think?—What <i>could</i> you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot—I mean, I would rather not at present tell you. But do not + look so grave; I will tell you some time or other, if you cannot guess.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia was silent, and stood abashed. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, my sweet girl,” said Mrs. Ormond, “I do not mean, by any thing + I said, to confuse or blame you. It is very natural that you should be + grateful to Mr. Hervey, and that you should admire, and, <i>to a certain + degree, love</i> him.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia looked up delighted, yet with some hesitation in her manner. + </p> + <p> + “He is, indeed,” said Mrs. Ormond, “one of the first of human beings: such + even <i>I</i> have always thought him; and I am sure I like you the + better, my dear, for your sensibility,” said she, kissing Virginia as she + spoke; “only we must take care of it, or this tenderness might go too + far.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” said Virginia, returning her caresses with fondness: “can I love + you and Mr. Hervey too much?” + </p> + <p> + “Not me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor him, I’m sure—he is so good, so very good! I am afraid that I + do not love him <i>enough</i>,” said she, sighing. “I love him enough when + he is absent, but not when he is present. When he is near I feel a sort of + fear mixed with my love. I wish to please him very much, but I should not + quite like that he should show his love for me as you do—as you did + just now.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, it would not be proper that he should; you are quite right not + to wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I? I was afraid that it was a sign of my not liking him as much as I + ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my poor child! you love him full as much as you ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so? I am glad of it,” said Virginia, with a look of such + confiding simplicity, that her friend was touched to the heart. + </p> + <p> + “I do think so, my love,” said Mrs. Ormond; “and I hope I shall never be + sorry for it, nor you either. But it is not proper that we should say any + more upon this subject now. Where are your drawings? Where is your + writing? My dear, we must get forward with these things as fast as we can. + That is the way to please Mr. Hervey, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Confirmed by this conversation in her own opinion, Mrs. Ormond was + satisfied. From delicacy to her pupil, she did not repeat all that had + passed to Mr. Hervey, resolving to wait till the <i>proper</i> moment. + “She is too young and too childish for him to think of marrying her yet, + for a year or two,” thought she; “and it is better to repress her + sensibility till her education is more finished; by that time Mr. Hervey + will find out his mistake.” + </p> + <p> + In the mean time she could not help thinking that he was blind, for he + continued steady in his belief of Virginia’s indifference. + </p> + <p> + To dissipate his own mind, and to give time for the development of hers, + he now, according to his resolution, left his pupil to the care of Mrs. + Ormond, and mixed as much as possible in gay and fashionable company. It + was at this period that he renewed his acquaintance with Lady Delacour, + whom he had seen and admired before he went abroad. He found that his + gallantry, on the famous day of the battle between the turkeys and pigs, + was still remembered with gratitude by her ladyship; she received him with + marked courtesy, and he soon became a constant visitor at her house. Her + wit entertained, her eloquence charmed him, and he followed, admired, and + <i>gallanted</i> her, without scruple, for he considered her merely as a + coquette, who preferred the glory of conquest to the security of + reputation. With such a woman he thought he could amuse himself without + danger, and he every where appeared the foremost in the public train of + her ladyship’s admirers. He soon discovered, however, that her talents + were far superior to what are necessary for playing the part of a fine + lady; his visits became more and more agreeable to him, and he was glad to + feel, that, by dividing his attention, his passion for Virginia insensibly + diminished, or, as he said to himself, became more reasonable. In + conversing with Lady Delacour, his faculties were always called into full + play; in talking to Virginia, his understanding was passive: he perceived + that a large proportion of his intellectual powers, and of his knowledge, + was absolutely useless to him in her company; and this did not raise her + either in his love or esteem. Her simplicity and naïvete, however, + sometimes relieved him, after he had been fatigued by the extravagant + gaiety and <i>glare</i> of her ladyship’s manners; and he reflected that + the coquetry which amused him in an acquaintance would be odious in a + wife: the perfect innocence of Virginia promised security to his domestic + happiness, and he did not change his views, though he was less eager for + the period of their accomplishment. “I cannot expect every thing that is + desirable,” said he to himself: “a more brilliant character than + Virginia’s would excite my admiration, but could not command my + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + It was whilst his mind was in this situation that he became acquainted + with Belinda. At first, the idea of her having been educated by the + match-making Mrs. Stanhope prejudiced him against her; but as he had + opportunities of observing her conduct, this prepossession was conquered, + and when she had secured his esteem, he could no longer resist her power + over his heart. In comparison with Belinda, Virginia appeared to him but + an insipid, though innocent child: the one he found was his equal, the + other his inferior; the one he saw could be a companion, a friend to him + for life, the other would merely be his pupil, or his plaything. Belinda + had cultivated taste, an active understanding, a knowledge of literature, + the power and the habit of conducting herself; Virginia was ignorant and + indolent, she had few ideas, and no wish to extend her knowledge; she was + so entirely unacquainted with the world, that it was absolutely impossible + she could conduct herself with that discretion, which must be the combined + result of reasoning and experience. Mr. Hervey had felt gratuitous + confidence in Virginia’s innocence; but on Belinda’s prudence, which he + had opportunities of seeing tried, he gradually learned to feel a + different and a higher species of reliance, which it is neither in our + power to bestow nor to refuse. The virtues of Virginia sprang from + sentiment; those of Belinda from reason. + </p> + <p> + Clarence, whilst he made all these comparisons, became every day more + wisely and more fondly attached to Belinda; and at length he became + desirous to change the nature of his connexion with Virginia, and to + appear to her only in the light of a friend or a benefactor. He thought of + giving her a suitable fortune and of leaving her under the care of Mrs. + Ormond, till some method of establishing her in the world should occur. + Unfortunately, just at the time when Mr. Hervey formed this plan, and + before it was communicated to Mrs. Ormond, difficulties arose which + prevented him from putting it into execution. + </p> + <p> + Whilst he had been engaged in the gay world at Lady Delacour’s, his pupil + had necessarily been left much to the management of Mrs. Ormond. This + lady, with the best possible intentions, had not that reach of mind and + variety of resource necessary to direct the exquisite sensibility and + ardent imagination of Virginia: the solitude in which she lived added to + the difficulty of the task. Without companions to interest her social + affections, without real objects to occupy her senses and understanding, + Virginia’s mind was either perfectly indolent, or <i>exalted</i> by + romantic views, and visionary ideas of happiness. As she had never seen + any thing of society, all her notions were drawn from books; the severe + restrictions which her grandmother had early laid upon the choice of these + seemed to have awakened her curiosity, and to have increased her appetite + for books—it was insatiable. Reading, indeed, was now almost her + only pleasure; for Mrs. Ormond’s conversation was seldom entertaining, and + Virginia had no longer those occupations which filled a portion of her day + at the cottage. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey had cautioned Mrs. Ormond against putting <i>common</i> novels + into her hands, but he made no objection to romances: these, he thought, + breathed a spirit favourable to female virtue, exalted the respect for + chastity, and inspired enthusiastic admiration of honour, generosity, + truth, and all the noble qualities which dignify human nature. Virginia + devoured these romances with the greatest eagerness; and Mrs. Ormond, who + found her a prey to ennui when her fancy was not amused, indulged her + taste; yet she strongly suspected that they contributed to increase her + passion for the only man who could, in her imagination, represent a hero. + </p> + <p> + One night Virginia found, in Mrs. Ormond’s room, a volume of St. Pierre’s + Paul and Virginia. She knew that her own name had been taken from this + romance; Mr. Hervey had her picture painted in this character; and these + circumstances strongly excited her curiosity to read the book. Mrs. Ormond + could not refuse to let her have it; for, though it was not an ancient + romance, it did not exactly come under the description of a common novel, + and Mr. Hervey was not at hand to give his advice. Virginia sat down + instantly to her volume, and never stirred from the spot till she had + nearly finished it. + </p> + <p> + “What is it that strikes your fancy so much? What are you considering so + deeply, my love?” said Mrs. Ormond, observing, that she seemed lost in + thought. “Let us see, my dear,” continued she, offering to take the hook, + which hung from her hand. Virginia started from her reverie, but held the + volume fast.—“Will not you let me read along with you?” said Mrs. + Ormond. “Won’t you let me share your pleasure?” + </p> + <p> + “It was not pleasure that I felt, I believe,” said Virginia. “I would + rather you should not see just that particular part that I was reading; + and yet, if you desire it,” added she, resigning the book reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “What can make you so much afraid of me, my sweet girl?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of you—but—of myself,” said Virginia, + sighing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond read the following passage: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “She thought of Paul’s friendship, more pure than the waters + of the fountain, stronger than the united palms, and sweeter than + the perfume of flowers; and these images, in night and in + solitude, gave double force to the passion which she nourished + in her heart. She suddenly left the dangerous shades, and + went to her mother, to seek protection against herself. She + wished to reveal her distress to her; she pressed her hands, and + the name of Paul was on her lips; but the oppression of her + heart took away all utterance, and, laying her head upon her + mother’s bosom, she only wept.” + </pre> + <p> + “And am I not a mother to you, my beloved Virginia?” said Mrs. Ormond. + “Though I cannot express my affection in such charming language as this, + yet, believe me, no mother was ever fonder of a child.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia threw her arms round Mrs. Ormond, and laid her head upon her + friend’s bosom, as if she wished to realize the illusion, and to be the + Virginia of whom she had been reading. + </p> + <p> + “I know all you think, and all you feel: I know,” whispered Mrs. Ormond, + “the name that is on <i>your</i> lips.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, you do not; you cannot,” cried Virginia, suddenly raising her + head, and looking up in Mrs. Ormond’s face, with surprise and timidity: + “how could you possibly know <i>all</i> my thoughts and feelings? I never + told them to you; for, indeed, I have only confused ideas floating in my + imagination from the books I have been reading. I do not distinctly know + my own feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “This is all very natural, and a proof of your perfect innocence and + simplicity, my child. But why did the passage you were reading just now + strike you so much?” + </p> + <p> + “I was only considering,” said Virginia, “whether it was the description + of—love.” + </p> + <p> + “And your heart told you that it was?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said she, sighing. “But of this I am certain, that I had + not the name, which you were thinking of, upon my lips.” + </p> + <p> + Ah! thought Mrs. Ormond, she has not forgotten how I checked her + sensibility some time ago. Poor girl! she is become afraid of me, and I + have taught her to dissemble; but she betrays herself every moment. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Mrs. Ormond, “you need not fear me—I cannot blame + you: in your situation, it is impossible that you could help loving Mr. + Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; quite impossible. So do not blame yourself for it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not blame myself for that. I only blame myself for not loving + him <i>enough</i>, as I told you once before.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear; and the oftener you tell me so, the more I am convinced of + your affection. It is one of the strongest symptoms of love, that we are + unconscious of its extent. We fancy that we can never do too much for the + beloved object.” + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly what I feel about Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “That we can never love him enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is precisely what I feel for Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “And what you ought—I mean, what it is natural you should feel; and + what he will himself, I hope, indeed I dare say, some time or other wish, + and be glad that you should feel.” + </p> + <p> + “Some time or other! Does not he wish it now?” + </p> + <p> + “I—he—my dear, what a question is that? And how shall I answer + it? We must judge of what he feels by what he expresses: when he expresses + love for you, it will then be the time to show yours for him.” + </p> + <p> + “He has always expressed love for me, I think,” said Virginia—“always, + till lately,” continued she; “but lately he has been away so much, and + when he comes home, he does not look so well pleased; so that I was afraid + he was angry with me, and that he thought me ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my love, do not torment yourself with these vain fears! And yet I + know that you cannot help it.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you are so kind, so very kind to me,” said Virginia, “I will tell + you all my fears and doubts. But it is late—there! the clock struck + one. I will not keep you up.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all sleepy,” said the indulgent Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” said Virginia, + </p> + <p> + “Now, then,” said Mrs. Ormond, “for these doubts and fears.” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid that, perhaps, Mr. Hervey would be angry if he knew that I + thought of any thing in the world but him.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what else do you think?—Of nothing else from morning till night, + that I can see.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then you do not see into my mind. In the daytime often think of those + heroes, those charming heroes, that I read of in the books you have given + me.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure you do.” + </p> + <p> + “And is not that wrong? Would not Mr. Hervey be displeased if he knew it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they are not quite like him. I love some of them better than I do + him, and he might think that <i>ungrateful</i>.” + </p> + <p> + How naturally love inspires the idea of jealousy, thought Mrs. Ormond. “My + dear,” said she, “you carry your ideas of delicacy and gratitude to an + extreme; but it is very natural you should: however, you need not be + afraid; Mr. Hervey cannot be jealous of those charming heroes, that never + existed, though they are not quite like him.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad that he would not think me ungrateful—but if he knew + that I dream of them sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “He would think you dreamed, as all people do, of what they think of in + the daytime.” + </p> + <p> + “And he would not be angry? I am very glad of it. But I once saw a picture—” + </p> + <p> + “I know you did—well,” said Mrs. Ormond, “and your grandmother was + frightened because it was the picture of a man—hey? If she was not + your grandmother, I should say that she was a simpleton. I assure you, Mr. + Hervey is not like her, if that is what you mean to ask. He would not be + angry at your having seen fifty pictures.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it—but I see it very often in my dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you had seen more pictures, you would not see this so often. It + was the first you ever saw, and very naturally you remember it, Mr. Hervey + would not be angry at that,” said Mrs. Ormond, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “But sometimes, in my dreams, it speaks to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does it say?” + </p> + <p> + “The same sort of things that those heroes I read of say to their + mistresses.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you never, in your dreams, hear Mr. Hervey say this sort of + things?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you never see Mr. Hervey in these dreams?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes; but he does not speak to me; he does not look at me with the + same sort of tenderness, and he does not throw himself at my feet.” + </p> + <p> + “No; because he has never done all this in reality.” + </p> + <p> + “No; and I wonder how I come to dream of such things.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I; but you have read and thought of them, it is plain. Now go to + sleep, there’s my good girl; that is the best thing you can do at present—go + to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + It was not long after this conversation that Sir Philip Baddely and Mr. + Rochfort scaled the garden wall, to obtain a sight of Clarence Hervey’s + mistress. Virginia was astonished, terrified, and disgusted, by their + appearance; they seemed to her a species of animals for which she had no + name, and of which she had no prototype in her imagination. That they were + men she saw; but they were clearly not <i>Clarence Herveys</i>: they bore + still less resemblance to the courteous knights of chivalry. Their + language was so different from any of the books she had read, and any of + the conversations she had heard, that they were scarcely intelligible. + After they had forced themselves into her presence, they did not scruple + to address her in the most unceremonious manner. Amongst other rude + things, they said, “Damme, my pretty dear, you cannot love the man that + keeps you prisoner in this manner, hey? Damme, you’d better come and live + with one of us. You can’t love this tyrant of a fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not a tyrant—I <i>do</i> love him as much as I detest you,” + cried Virginia, shrinking from him with looks of horror. + </p> + <p> + “Damme! good actress! Put her on the stage when he is tired of her. So you + won’t come with us?—Good bye, till we see you again. You’re right, + my girl, to be upon your good behaviour; may be you may get him to marry + you, child!” + </p> + <p> + Virginia, upon hearing this speech, turned from the man who insulted her + with a degree of haughty indignation, of which her gentle nature had never + before appeared capable. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond hoped, that after the alarm was over, the circumstance would + pass away from her pupil’s mind; but on the contrary, it left the most + forcible impression. Virginia became silent and melancholy, and whole + hours were spent in reverie. Mrs. Ormond imagined, that notwithstanding + Virginia’s entire ignorance of the world, she had acquired from books + sufficient knowledge to be alarmed at the idea of being taken for Clarence + Hervey’s mistress. She touched upon this subject with much delicacy, and + the answers that she received confirmed her opinion. Virginia had been + inspired by romances with the most exalted notions of female delicacy and + honour! but from her perfect ignorance, these were rather vague ideas than + principles of conduct. + </p> + <p> + “We shall see Mr. Hervey to-morrow; he has written me word that he will + come from town, and spend the day with us.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be ashamed to see him after what has passed,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “You have no cause for shame, my dear; Mr. Hervey will try to discover the + persons who insulted you, and he will punish them. They will never return + here; you need not fear that. He is willing and able to protect you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes of that I am sure. But what did that strange man mean, when he said—” + </p> + <p> + “What, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “That, perhaps, Mr. Hervey would marry me.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia pronounced these words with difficulty. Mrs. Ormond was silent, + for she was much embarrassed. Virginia having conquered her first + difficulty, seemed resolute to obtain an answer. + </p> + <p> + “You do not speak to me! Will you not tell me, dear Mrs. Ormond,” said + she, hanging upon her fondly, “what did he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “What he said, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “But he said, that if I behaved well, I might get Mr. Hervey to marry me. + What did he mean by that?” said Virginia, in an accent of offended pride. + </p> + <p> + “He spoke very rudely and improperly; but it is not worth while to think + of what he said, or what he meant.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear Mrs. Ormond, do not go away from me now: I never so much wished + to speak to you in my whole life, and you turn away from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my love, well, what would you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me one thing, only one thing, and you will set my heart at ease. + Does Mr. Hervey <i>wish</i> me to be his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you that, my dearest Virginia. Time will show us. Perhaps + his heart has not yet decided.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish it would decide,” said Virginia, sighing deeply; “and I wish that + strange man had not told me any thing about the matter; it has made me + very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + She covered her eyes with her hand, but the tears trickled between her + fingers, and rolled fast down her arm. Mrs. Ormond, quite overcome by the + sight of her distress, was no longer able to keep the secret with which + she had been entrusted by Clarence Hervey. And after all, thought she, + Virginia will hear it from himself soon. I shall only spare her some + unnecessary pain; it is cruel to see her thus, and to keep her in + suspense. Besides, her weakness might be her ruin, in his opinion, if it + were to extinguish all her energy, and deprive her of the very power of + pleasing. How wan she looks, and how heavy are those sleepless eyes! She + is not, indeed, in a condition to meet him, when he comes to us to-morrow: + if she had some hopes, she would revive and appear with her natural ease + and grace. + </p> + <p> + “My sweet child,” said Mrs. Ormond, “I cannot bear to see you so + melancholy; consider, Mr. Hervey will be with us to-morrow, and it will + give him a great deal of pain to see you so.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it? Then I will try to be very gay.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond was so delighted to see Virginia smile, that she could not + forbear adding, “The strange man was not wrong in every thing he said; you + <i>will</i>, one of these days, be Mr. Hervey’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “That, I am sure,” said Virginia, bursting again into tears, “that, I am + sure, I do not wish, unless <i>he</i> does.” + </p> + <p> + “He does, he does, my dear—do not let this delicacy of yours, which + has been wound up too high, make you miserable. He thought of you, he + loved you long and long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “He is very good, too good,” said Virginia, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, what is more—for I can keep nothing from you—he has been + educating you all this time on purpose for his wife, and he only waits + till your education is finished, and till he is sure that you feel no + repugnance for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be very ungrateful if I felt any repugnance for him,” said + Virginia; “I feel none.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that you need not assure me,” said Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “But I do not wish to marry him—I do not wish to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a modest girl to say so; and this modesty will make you ten times + more amiable, especially in Mr. Hervey’s eyes. Heaven forbid that I should + lessen it!” + </p> + <p> + The next morning Virginia, who always slept in the same room with Mrs. + Ormond, wakened her, by crying out in her sleep, with a voice of terror, + “Oh, save him!—save Mr. Hervey!—Mr. Hervey!—forgive me! + forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond drew back the curtain, and saw Virginia lying fast asleep; her + beautiful face convulsed with agony. + </p> + <p> + “He’s dead!—Mr. Hervey!” cried she, in a voice of exquisite + distress: then starting up, and stretching out her arms, she uttered a + piercing cry, and awoke. + </p> + <p> + “My love, you have been dreaming frightfully,” said Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all a dream?” cried Virginia, looking round fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “All a dream, my dear!” said Mrs. Ormond, taking her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am very, very glad of it!—Let me breathe. It was, indeed, a + frightful dream!” + </p> + <p> + “Your hand still trembles,” said Mrs. Ormond; “let me put back this hair + from your poor face, and you will grow cool, and forget this foolish + dream.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I must tell it you. I ought to tell it you. But it was all so + confused, I can recollect only some parts of it. First, I remember that I + thought I was not myself, but the Virginia that we were reading of the + other night; and I was somewhere in the Isle of France. I thought the + place was something like the forest where my grandmother’s cottage used to + be, only there were high mountains and rocks, and cocoa-trees and + plantains.” + </p> + <p> + “Such as you saw in the prints of that book?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; only beautiful, beautiful beyond description! And it was moonlight, + brighter and clearer than any moonlight I ever before had seen; and the + air was fresh yet perfumed; and I was seated under the shade of a + plane-tree, beside Virginia’s fountain.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you are in your picture?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes: but Paul was seated beside me.” + </p> + <p> + “Paul!” said Mrs. Ormond, smiling: “that is Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “No; not Mr. Hervey’s face, though it spoke with his voice—this is + what I thought that I must tell you. It was another figure: it seemed a + real living person: it knelt at my feet, and spoke to me so kindly, so + tenderly; and just as it was going to kiss my hand, Mr. Hervey appeared, + and I started terribly, for I was afraid he would be displeased, and that + he would think me <i>ungrateful</i>; and he was displeased, and he called + me ungrateful Virginia, and frowned, and then I gave him my hand, and then + every thing changed, I do not know how suddenly, and I was in a place like + the great print of the cathedral, which Mr. Hervey showed me; and there + were crowds of people—I was almost stifled. <i>You</i> pulled me on, + as I remember; and Mr. Moreton was there, standing upon some steps by what + you called the altar; and then we knelt down before him, and Mr. Hervey + was putting a ring on my finger; but there came suddenly from the crowd + that strange man, who was here the other day, and he dragged me along with + him, I don’t know how or where, swiftly down precipices, whilst I + struggled, and at last fell. Then all changed again, and I was in a + magnificent field, covered with cloth of gold, and there were beautiful + ladies seated under canopies; and I thought it was a tournament, such as I + have read of, only more splendid; and two knights, clad in complete + armour, and mounted on fiery steeds, were engaged in single combat; and + they fought furiously, and I thought they were fighting for me. One of the + knights wore black plumes in his helmet, and the other white; and, as he + was passing by me, the vizor of the knight of the white plumes was raised, + and I saw it was—” + </p> + <p> + “Clarence Hervey?” said Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “No; still the same figure that knelt to me; and I wished him to be + victorious. And he was victorious. And he unhorsed his adversary, and + stood over him with his drawn sword; and then I saw that the knight in the + black plumes was Mr. Hervey, and I ran to save him, but I could not. I saw + him weltering in his blood, and I heard him say, ‘Perfidious, <i>ungrateful</i> + Virginia! you are the cause of my death!’—and I screamed, I believe, + and that awakened me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is only a dream, my love,” said Mrs. Ormond; “Mr. Hervey is + safe: get up and dress yourself, and you will soon see him.” + </p> + <p> + “But was it not wrong and <i>ungrateful</i> to wish that the knight in the + white plumes should be victorious?” + </p> + <p> + “Your poor little head is full of nothing but these romances, and love for + Mr. Hervey. It is your love for him that makes you fear that he will be + jealous. But he is not so simple as you are. He will forgive you for + wishing that the knight in the white plumes should be victorious, + especially as you did not know that the other knight was Mr. Hervey. Come, + my love, dress yourself, and think no more of these foolish dreams, and + all will go well.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. — A DISCOVERY. + </h2> + <p> + Instead of the open, childish, affectionate familiarity with which + Virginia used to meet Clarence Hervey, she now received him with reserved, + timid embarrassment. Struck by this change in her manner, and alarmed by + the dejection of her spirits, which she vainly strove to conceal, he + eagerly inquired, from Mrs. Ormond, into the cause of this alteration. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond’s answers, and her account of all that had passed during his + absence, increased his anxiety. His indignation was roused by the insult + which Virginia had been offered by the strangers who had scaled the + garden-wall. All his endeavours to discover who they were proved + ineffectual; but, lest they should venture to repeat their visit, he + removed her from Windsor, and took her directly to Twickenham. Here he + stayed with her and Mrs. Ormond some days, to determine, by his own + observation, how far the representations that had been made to him were + just. Till this period he had been persuaded that Virginia’s regard for + him was rather that of gratitude than of love; and with this opinion, he + thought that he had no reason seriously to reproach himself for the + imprudence with which he had betrayed the partiality that he felt for her + in the beginning of their acquaintance. He flattered himself that even + should she have discerned his intentions, her heart would not repine at + any alteration in his sentiments; and if her happiness were uninjured, his + reason told him that he was not in honour bound to constancy. The case was + now altered. Unwilling as he was to believe, he could no longer doubt. + Virginia could neither meet his eyes nor speak to him without a degree of + embarrassment which she had not sufficient art to conceal: she trembled + whenever he came near her, and if he looked grave, or forbore to take + notice of her, she would burst into tears. At other times, contrary to the + natural indolence of her character, she would exert herself to please him + with surprising energy: she learned every thing that he wished; her + capacity seemed suddenly to unfold. For an instant, Clarence flattered + himself that both her fits of melancholy and of exertion might arise from + a secret desire to see something of that world from which she had been + secluded. One day he touched upon this subject, to see what effect it + would produce; but, contrary to his expectations, she seemed to have no + desire to quit her retirement: she did not wish, she said, for amusements + such as he described; she did not wish to go into the world. + </p> + <p> + It was during the time of his passion for her that Clarence had her + picture painted in the character of St. Pierre’s Virginia. It happened to + be in the room in which they were now conversing, and when she spoke of + loving a life of retirement, Clarence accidentally cast his eyes upon the + picture, and then upon Virginia. She turned away—sighed deeply; and + when, in a tone of kindness, he asked her if she were unhappy, she hid her + face in her hands, and made no answer. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey could not be insensible to her distress or to her delicacy. He + saw her bloom fading daily, her spirits depressed, her existence a burden + to her, and he feared that his own imprudence had been the cause of all + this misery. + </p> + <p> + “I have taken her out of a situation in which she might have spent her + life usefully and happily; I have excited false hopes in her mind, and now + she is a wretched and useless being. I have won her affections; her + happiness depends totally upon me; and can I forsake her? Mrs. Ormond + says, that she is convinced Virginia would not survive the day of my + marriage with another. I am not disposed to believe that girls often die + or destroy themselves for love; nor am I a coxcomb enough to suppose that + love for me must be extraordinarily desperate. But here’s a girl, who is + of a melancholy temperament, who has a great deal of natural sensibility, + whose affections have all been concentrated, who has lived in solitude, + whose imagination has dwelt, for a length of time, upon a certain set of + ideas, who has but one object of hope; in such a mind, and in such + circumstances, passion may rise to a paroxysm of despair.” + </p> + <p> + Pity, generosity, and honour, made him resolve not to abandon this + unfortunate girl; though he felt that every time he saw Virginia, his love + for Belinda increased. It was this struggle in his mind betwixt love and + honour which produced all the apparent inconsistency and irresolution that + puzzled Lady Delacour and perplexed Belinda. The lock of beautiful hair, + which so unluckily fell at Belinda’s feet, was Virginia’s; he was going to + take it to the painter, who had made the hair in her picture considerably + too dark. How this picture got into the exhibition must now be explained. + </p> + <p> + Whilst Mr. Hervey’s mind was in that painful state of doubt which has just + been described, a circumstance happened that promised him some relief from + his embarrassment. Mr. Moreton, the clergyman who used to read prayers + every Sunday for Mrs. Ormond and Virginia, did not come one Sunday at the + usual time: the next morning he called on Mr. Hervey, with a face that + showed he had something of importance to communicate. + </p> + <p> + “I have hopes, my dear Clarence,” said he, “that I have found out your + Virginia’s father. Yesterday, a musical friend of mine persuaded me to go + with him to hear the singing at the Asylum for children in St. George’s + Fields. There is a girl there who has indeed a charming voice—but + that’s not to the present purpose. After church was over, I happened to be + one of the last that stayed; for I am too old to love bustling through a + crowd. Perhaps, as you are impatient, you think that’s nothing to the + purpose; and yet it is, as you shall hear. When the congregation had + almost left the church, I observed that the children of the Asylum + remained in their places, by order of one of the governors; and a + middle-aged gentleman went round amongst the elder girls, examined their + countenances with care, and inquired with much anxiety their ages, and + every particular relative to their parents. The stranger held a miniature + picture in his hand, with which he compared each face. I was not near + enough to him,” continued Mr. Moreton, “to see the miniature distinctly: + but from the glimpse I caught of it, I thought that it was like your + Virginia, though it seemed to be the portrait of a child but four or five + years old. I understand that this gentleman will be at the Asylum again + next Sunday; I heard him express a wish to see some of the girls who + happened last Sunday to be absent.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know this gentleman’s name, or where he lives?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of him,” replied Mr. Moreton, “except that he seems fond + of painting; for he told one of the directors, who was looking at his + miniature, that it was remarkably well painted, and that, in his happier + days, he had been something of a judge of the art.” + </p> + <p> + Impatient to see the stranger, who, he did not doubt, was Virginia’s + father, Clarence Hervey went the next Sunday to the Asylum; but no such + gentleman appeared, and all that he could learn respecting him was, that + he had applied to one of the directors of the institution for leave to see + and question the girls, in hopes of finding amongst them his lost + daughter; that in the course of the week, he had seen all those who were + not at the church the last Sunday. None of the directors knew any thing + more concerning him; but the porter remarked, that he came in a very + handsome coach, and one of the girls of the Asylum said that he gave her + half a guinea, because she was a little like <i>his poor Rachel, who was + dead</i>; but that he had added, with a sigh, “This cannot be my daughter, + for she is only thirteen, and my girl, if she be now living, must be + nearly eighteen.” + </p> + <p> + The age, the name, every circumstance confirmed Mr. Hervey in the belief + that this stranger was the father of Virginia, and he was disappointed and + provoked by having missed the opportunity of seeing or speaking to him. It + occurred to Clarence that the gentleman might probably visit the Foundling + Hospital, and thither he immediately went, to make inquiries. He was told + that a person, such as he described, had been there about a month before, + and had compared the face of the oldest girls with a little picture of a + child: that he gave money to several of the girls, but that they did not + know his name, or any thing more about him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey now inserted proper advertisements in all the papers, but + without producing any effect. At last, recollecting what Mr. Moreton told + him of the stranger’s love of pictures, he determined to put his portrait + of Virginia into the exhibition, in hopes that the gentleman might go + there and ask some questions about it, which might lead to a discovery. + The young artist, who had painted this picture, was under particular + obligations to Clarence, and he promised that he would faithfully comply + with his request, to be at Somerset-house regularly every morning, as soon + as the exhibition opened; that he would stay there till it closed, and + watch whether any of the spectators were particularly struck with the + portrait of Virginia. If any person should ask questions respecting the + picture, he was to let Mr. Hervey know immediately, and to give the + inquirer his address. + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that the very day when Lady Delacour and Belinda were at + the exhibition, the painter called Clarence aside, and informed him that a + gentleman had just inquired from him very eagerly, whether the picture of + Virginia was a portrait. This gentleman proved to be not the stranger who + had been at the Asylum, but an eminent jeweller, who told Mr. Hervey that + his curiosity about the picture arose merely from its striking likeness to + a miniature, which had been lately left at his house to be new set. It + belonged to a Mr. Hartley, a gentleman who had made a considerable fortune + in the West Indies, but who was prevented from enjoying his affluence by + the loss of an only daughter, of whom the miniature was a portrait, taken + when she was not more than four or five years old. When Clarence heard all + this, he was extremely impatient to know where Mr. Hartley was to be + found; but the jeweller could only tell him that the miniature had been + called for the preceding day by Mr. Hartley’s servant, who said his master + was leaving town in a great hurry to go to Portsmouth, to join the West + India fleet, which was to sail with the first favourable wind. + </p> + <p> + Clarence determined immediately to follow him to Portsmouth: he had not a + moment to spare, for the wind was actually favourable, and his only chance + of seeing Mr. Hartley was by reaching Portsmouth as soon as possible. This + was the cause of his taking leave of Belinda in such an abrupt manner: + painful indeed were his feelings at that moment, and great the difficulty + he felt in parting with her, without giving any explanation of his + conduct, which must have appeared to her capricious and mysterious. He was + aware that he had explicitly avowed to Lady Delacour his admiration of + Miss Portman, and that in a thousand instances he had betrayed his + passion. Yet of her love he dared not trust himself to think, whilst his + affairs were in this doubtful state. He had, it is true, some faint hopes + that a change in Virginia’s situation might produce an alteration in her + sentiments, and he resolved to decide his own conduct by the manner in + which she should behave, if her father should be found, and she should + become heiress to a considerable fortune. New views might then open to her + imagination: the world, the fashionable world, in all its glory, would be + before her; her beauty and fortune would attract a variety of admirers, + and Clarence thought that perhaps her partiality for him might become less + exclusive, when she had more opportunities of choice. If her love arose + merely from circumstances, with circumstances it would change; if it were + only a disease of the imagination, induced by her seclusion from society, + it might be cured by mixing with the world; and then he should be at + liberty to follow the dictates of his own heart, and declare his + attachment to Belinda. But if he should find that change of situation made + no alteration in Virginia’s sentiments, if her happiness should absolutely + depend upon the realization of those hopes which he had imprudently + excited, he felt that he should be bound to her by all the laws of justice + and honour; laws which no passion could tempt him to break. Full of these + ideas, he hurried to Portsmouth in pursuit of Virginia’s father. The first + question he asked, upon his arrival there, may easily be guessed. + </p> + <p> + “Has the West India fleet sailed?” + </p> + <p> + “No: it sails to-morrow morning,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + He hastened instantly to make inquiries for Mr. Hartley. No such person + could be found, no such gentleman was to be heard of any where. <i>Hartley</i>, + he was sure, was the name which the jeweller mentioned to him, but it was + in vain that he repeated it; no Mr. Hartley was to be heard of at + Portsmouth, except a pawnbroker. At last, a steward of one of the West + Indiamen recollected that a gentleman of that name came over with him in + the Effingham, and that he talked of returning in the same vessel to the + West Indies, if he should ever leave England again. + </p> + <p> + “But we have heard nothing of him since, sir,” said the steward. “No + passage is taken for him with us.” + </p> + <p> + “And my life to a china orange,” cried a sailor who was standing by, “he’s + gone to kingdom come, or more likely to Bedlam, afore this; for he was + plaguy crazy in his timbers, and his head wanted righting, I take it, if + it was he, Jack, who used to walk the deck, you know, with a bit of a + picture in his hand, to which he seemed to be mumbling his prayers from + morning to night. There’s no use in sounding for him, master; he’s down in + Davy’s locker long ago, or stowed into the tight waistcoat before this + time o’day.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding this knowing sailor’s opinion, Clarence would not desist + from his sounding; because having so lately heard of him at different + places, he could not believe that he was gone either into Davy’s locker or + to Bedlam. He imagined that, by some accident, Mr. Hartley had been + detained upon the road to Portsmouth; and in the expectation that he would + certainly arrive before the fleet should sail, Clarence waited with + tolerable patience. He waited, however, in vain; he saw the Effingham and + the whole fleet sail—no Mr. Hartley arrived. As he hailed one of the + boats of the Effingham, which was rowing out with some passengers, who had + been too late to get on board, his friend the sailor answered, “We’ve no + crazy man here: I told you, master, he’d never go out no more in the + Effingham. He’s where I said, master, you’ll find, or nowhere.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey remained some days at Portsmouth, after the fleet had sailed, + in hopes that he might yet obtain some information; but none could be had; + neither could any farther tidings be obtained from the jeweller, who had + first mentioned Mr. Hartley. Despairing of success in the object of his + journey, he, however, determined to delay his return to town for some + time, in hopes that absence might efface the impression which had been + made on the heart of Virginia. He made a tour along the picturesque coasts + of Dorset and Devonshire, and it was during this excursion that he wrote + the letters to Lady Delacour which have so often been mentioned. He + endeavoured to dissipate his thoughts by new scenes and employments, but + all his ideas involuntarily centred in Belinda. If he saw new characters, + he compared them with hers, or considered how far she would approve or + condemn them. The books that he read were perused with a constant + reference to what she would think or feel; and during his whole journey he + never beheld any beautiful prospect, without wishing that it could at the + same instant be seen by Belinda. If her name were mentioned but once in + his letters, it was because he dared not trust himself to speak of her; + she was for ever present to his mind: but while he was writing to Lady + Delacour, her idea pressed more strongly upon his heart; he recollected + that it was she who first gave him a just insight into her ladyship’s real + character; he recollected that she had joined with him in the benevolent + design of reconciling her to Lord Delacour, and of creating in her mind a + taste for domestic happiness. This remembrance operated powerfully to + excite him to fresh exertions, and the eloquence which touched Lady + Delacour so much in these “<i>edifying</i>” letters, as she called them, + was in fact inspired by Belinda. + </p> + <p> + Whenever he thought distinctly upon his future plans, Virginia’s + attachment, and the hopes which he had imprudently inspired, appeared + insuperable obstacles to his union with Miss Portman; but, in more + sanguine moments, he flattered himself with a confused notion that these + difficulties would vanish. Great were his surprise and alarm when he + received that letter of Lady Delacour’s, in which she announced the + probability of Belinda’s marriage with Mr. Vincent. In consequence of his + moving from place to place in the course of his tour, he did not receive + this letter till nearly a fortnight after it should have come to his + hands. The instant he received it he set out on his way home; he travelled + with all that expedition which money can command in England: his first + thought and first wish when he arrived in town were to go to Lady + Delacour’s; but he checked his impatience, and proceeded immediately to + Twickenham, to have his fate decided by Virginia. It was with the most + painful sensations that he saw her again. The accounts which he received + from Mrs. Ormond convinced him that absence had produced none of the + effects which he expected on the mind of her pupil. Mrs. Ormond was + naturally both of an affectionate disposition and a timid temper; she had + become excessively fond of Virginia, and her anxiety was more than in + proportion to her love; it sometimes balanced and even overbalanced her + regard and respect for Clarence Hervey himself. When he spoke of his + attachment to Belinda, and of his doubts respecting Virginia, she could no + longer restrain her emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed, Mr. Hervey,” said she, “this is no time for reasoning and + doubting. No man in his senses, no man who is not wilfully blind, could + doubt her being distractedly fond of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for it,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “And why—oh, why, Mr. Hervey? Don’t you recollect the time when you + were all impatience to call her yours,—when you thought her the most + charming creature in the whole world?” + </p> + <p> + “I had not seen Belinda Portman then.” + </p> + <p> + “And I wish to Heaven you never had seen her! But oh, surely, Mr. Hervey, + you will not desert my Virginia!—Must her health, her happiness, her + reputation, all be the sacrifice?” + </p> + <p> + “Reputation! Mrs. Ormond.” + </p> + <p> + “Reputation, Mr. Hervey: you do not know in what a light she is considered + here; nor did I till lately. But I tell you her reputation is injured—fatally + injured. It is whispered, and more than whispered everywhere, that she is + your mistress. A woman came here the other day with the bullfinch, and she + looked at me, and spoke in such an extraordinary way, that I was shocked + more than I can express. I need not tell you all the particulars; it is + enough that I have made inquiries, and am sure, too sure, of what I say, + that nothing but your marriage with Virginia can save her reputation; or—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond stopped short, for at this instant Virginia entered the room, + walking in her slow manner, as if she were in a deep reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Since my return,” said Clarence, in an embarrassed voice, “I have + scarcely heard a syllable from Miss St. Pierre’s lips.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Miss St. Pierre!</i>—He used to call me Virginia,” said she, + turning to Mrs. Ormond: “he is angry with me—he used to call me + Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “But you were a child then, you know, my love,” said Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “And I wish I was still a child,” said Virginia, Then, after a long pause, + she approached Mr. Hervey with extreme timidity, and, opening a portfolio + which lay on the table, she said to him, “If you are at leisure—if I + do not interrupt you—would you look at these drawings; though they + are not worth your seeing, except as proofs that I can conquer my natural + indolence?” + </p> + <p> + The drawings were views which she had painted from memory, of scenes in + the New Forest, near her grandmother’s cottage. That cottage was drawn + with an exactness that proved how fresh it was in her remembrance. Many + recollections rushed forcibly into Clarence Hervey’s mind at the sight of + this cottage. The charming image of Virginia, as it first struck his + fancy,—the smile, the innocent smile, with which she offered him the + finest rose in her basket,—the stern voice in which her grandmother + spoke to her,—the prophetic fears of her protectress,—the + figure of the dying woman,—the solemn promise he made to her,—all + recurred, in rapid succession, to his memory. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t seem to like that,” said Virginia; and then putting another + drawing into his hands, “perhaps this may please you better.” + </p> + <p> + “They are beautiful; they are surprisingly well done!” exclaimed he. + </p> + <p> + “I knew he would like them! I told you so!” cried Mrs. Ormond, in a + triumphant tone. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Virginia, “that though you have heard scarcely a syllable + from Miss St. Pierre’s lips since your return, yet she has not been + unmindful of your wishes in your absence. You told her, some time ago, + that you wished she would try to improve in drawing. She has done her + best. But do not trouble yourself to look at them any longer,” said + Virginia, taking one of her drawings from his hand; “I merely wanted to + show you that, though I have no genius, I have some—” + </p> + <p> + Her voice faltered so that she could not pronounce the word <i>gratitude</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond pronounced it for her; and added, “I can answer for it, that + Virginia is not ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Ungrateful!” repeated Clarence; “who ever thought her so? Why did you put + these ideas into her mind?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia, resting her head on Mrs. Ormond’s shoulder, wept bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “You have worked upon her sensibility till you have made her miserable,” + cried Clarence, angrily. “Virginia, listen to me: look at me,” said he, + affectionately taking her hand; but she pressed closer to Mrs. Ormond, and + would not raise her head. “Do not consider me as your master—your + tyrant; do not imagine that I think you ungrateful!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am—I am—I am ungrateful to you,” cried she, sobbing; + “but Mrs. Ormond never told me so; do not blame her: she has never worked + upon my sensibility. Do you think,” said she, looking up, while a + transient expression of indignation passed over her countenance, “do you + think I cannot <i>feel</i> without having been taught?” + </p> + <p> + Clarence uttered a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + “But if you feel too much, my dearest Virginia,—if you give way to + your feelings in this manner,” said Mrs. Ormond, “you will make both + yourself and Mr. Hervey unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid! The first wish of my soul is—” She paused. “I should + be the most ungrateful wretch in the world, if I were to make him + unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he sees you miserable, Virginia?” + </p> + <p> + “Then he shall not see it,” said she, wiping the tears from her face. + </p> + <p> + “To imagine that you were unhappy, and that you concealed it from us, + would be still worse,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “But why should you imagine it?” replied Virginia; “you are too good, too + kind; but do not fancy that I am not happy: I am sure I ought to be + happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you regret your cottage?” said Clarence: “these drawings show how well + you remember it.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia coloured; and, with some hesitation, answered, “Is it my fault if + I cannot forget?” + </p> + <p> + “You were happier then, Virginia, than you are now, you will confess,” + said Mrs. Ormond, who was not a woman of refined delicacy, and who thought + that the best chance she had of working upon Mr. Hervey’s sense of honour + was by making it plain to him how much her pupil’s affections were + engaged. + </p> + <p> + Virginia made no answer to this question, and her silence touched Clarence + more than any thing she could have said. When Mrs. Ormond repeated her + question, he relieved the trembling girl by saying, “My dear Mrs. Ormond, + confidence must be won, not demanded.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to insist upon confessions, I know,” said Mrs. Ormond; + “but—” + </p> + <p> + “Confessions! I do not wish to conceal any thing, but I think sincerity is + not <i>always</i> in our sex consistent with—I mean—I don’t + know what I mean, what I say, or what I ought to say,” cried Virginia; and + she sunk down on a sofa, in extreme confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Why will you agitate her, Mrs. Ormond, in this manner?” said Mr. Hervey, + with an expression of sudden anger. It was succeeded by a look of such + tender compassion for Virginia, that Mrs. Ormond rejoiced to have excited + his anger; at any price she wished to serve her beloved pupil. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be in the least apprehensive, my dear Virginia, that we should + take ungenerous advantage of the openness and simplicity of your + character,” said Mr. Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no; I cannot, do not apprehend any thing ungenerous from you; you + are, you ever have been, my best, my most generous friend! But I fear that + I have not the simplicity of character, the openness that you imagine; and + yet, I am sure, I wish, from the bottom of my heart—I wish to do + right, if I knew how. But there is not one—no, not one—person + in the whole world,” continued she, her eyes moving from Mrs. Ormond to + Mr. Hervey, and from him to Mrs. Ormond again, “not one person in the + whole world I dare—I ought—to lay my heart open to. I have, + perhaps, said more than is proper already. But this I know,” added she, in + a firm tone, rising, and addressing herself to Clarence, “<i>you</i> shall + never be made unhappy by me. And do not think about my happiness so much,” + said she, forcing a smile; “I am, I will be, perfectly happy. Only let me + always know your wishes, your sentiments, your feelings, and by them I + will, as I ought, regulate mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Amiable, charming, generous girl!” cried Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Take care,” said Mrs. Ormond; “take care, Virginia, lest you promise more + than you can perform. Wishes, and feelings, and sentiments, are not to be + so easily regulated.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not, I believe, say it was easy; but I hope it is possible,” + replied Virginia. “I promise nothing but what I am able to perform.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it,” said Mrs. Ormond, shaking her head. “You <i>are</i>—you + <i>will</i> be perfectly happy. Oh, Virginia, my love, do not deceive + yourself; do not deceive us so terribly. I am sorry to put you to the + blush; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word more, my dear madam, I beg—I insist,” said Mr. Hervey in + a commanding tone; but, for the first time in her life, regardless of him, + she persisted. + </p> + <p> + “I only ask you to call to mind, my dearest Virginia,” said she, taking + her hand, “the morning that you screamed in your sleep, the morning when + you told me the frightful dream—were you perfectly happy then?” + </p> + <p> + “It is easy to force my thoughts from me,” said Virginia, withdrawing her + hand from Mrs. Ormond; “but it is cruel to do so.” And with an air of + offended dignity she passed them, and quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to Heaven!” exclaimed Mrs. Ormond, “that Miss Portman was married, + and out of the way—I shall never forgive myself! We have used this + poor girl cruelly amongst us: she loves you to distraction, and I have + encouraged her passion, and I have betrayed her—oh, fool that I was! + I told her that she would certainly be your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You have told her so!—Did I not charge you, Mrs. Ormond——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I could not help it, when I saw the sweet girl fading away—and, + besides, I am sure she thought it, from your manner, long and long before + I told it to her. Do you forget how fond of her you were scarce one short + year ago? And do you forget how plainly you let her see your passion? Oh, + how can you blame her, if she loves you, and if she is unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + “I blame no one but myself,” cried Clarence; “I must abide by the + consequences of my own folly. Unhappy!—she shall not be unhappy; she + does not deserve to be so.” + </p> + <p> + He walked backward and forward, with hasty steps, for some minutes; then + sat down and wrote a letter to Virginia. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished it, he put it into Mrs. Ormond’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “Read it—seal it—give it to her—and let her answer be + sent to town to me, at Dr. X.‘s, in Clifford-street.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond clasped her hands, in an ecstasy of joy, as she glanced her + eye over the letter, for it contained an offer of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “This is like yourself; like what I always knew you to be, dear Mr. + Hervey!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + But her exclamation was lost upon him. When she looked up, to repeat her + praises, she perceived he was gone. After the effort which he had made, he + wished for time to tranquillize his mind, before he should again see + Virginia. What her answer to this letter would be he could not doubt: his + fate was now decided, and he determined immediately to write to Lady + Delacour to explain his situation; he felt that he had not sufficient + fortitude at this moment to make such an explanation in person. With all + the strength of his mind, he endeavoured to exclude Belinda from his + thoughts, but <i>curiosity</i>—(for he would suffer himself to call + it by no other name)—curiosity to know whether she were actually + engaged to Mr. Vincent obtruded itself with such force, that it could not + be resisted. + </p> + <p> + From Dr. X—— he thought he could obtain full information, and + he hastened immediately to town. When he got to Clifford-street, he found + that the doctor was not at home; his servant said, he might probably be + met with at Mrs. Margaret Delacour’s, as he usually finished his morning + rounds at her house. Thither Mr. Hervey immediately went. + </p> + <p> + The first sound that he heard, as he went up her stairs, was the screaming + of a macaw; and the first person he saw, through the open door of the + drawing-room, was Helena Delacour. She was standing with her back to him, + leaning over the macaw’s cage, and he heard her say in a joyful tone, + “Yes, though you do scream so frightfully, my pretty macaw, I love you as + well as Marriott ever did. When my dear, good Miss Portman, sent this + macaw—My dear aunt! here’s Mr. Hervey!—you were just wishing + to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hervey,” said the old lady, with a benevolent smile, “your little + friend Helena tells you truth; we were just wishing for you. I am sure it + will give you pleasure to hear that I am at last a convert to your opinion + of Lady Delacour. She has given up all those that I used to call her + rantipole acquaintance. She has reconciled herself to her husband, and to + his friends; and Helena is to go home to live with her. Here is a charming + note I have just received from her! Dine with me on Thursday next, and you + will meet her ladyship, and see a happy family party. You have had some + share in the <i>reformation</i>, I know, and that was the reason I wished + that you should be with us on Thursday. You see I am not an obstinate old + woman, though I was cross the first day I saw you at Lady Anne Percival’s. + I found I was mistaken in your character, and I am glad of it. But this + note of Lady Delacour’s seems to have struck you dumb.” + </p> + <p> + There were, indeed, a few words in this note, which deprived him, for some + moments, of all power of utterance. + </p> + <p> + “The report you have heard (unlike most other reports) is perfectly well + founded: Mr. Vincent, Belinda’s admirer, is here. I will bring him with us + on Thursday.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey was relieved from the necessity of accounting to Mrs. Delacour + for his sudden embarrassment, by the entrance of Dr. X—— and + another gentleman, of whom, in the confusion of his mind, Clarence did not + at first take any notice. Dr. X——, with his usual mixture of + benevolence and raillery, addressed himself to Clarence, whilst the + stranger took out of his pocket some papers, and in a low voice entered + earnestly into conversation with Mrs. Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me, if you can, Clarence,” said Dr. X——, “which of + your three mistresses you like best? I think I left you some months ago in + great doubt upon this subject: are you still in that philosophic state?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Clarence; “all doubts are over—I am going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!—But you look as if you were going to be hanged. May I, as it + will so soon be in the newspaper, may I ask the name of the fair lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia St. Pierre. You shall know her history and mine when we are + alone,” said Mr. Hervey, lowering his voice. + </p> + <p> + “You need not lower your voice,” said Dr. X——, “for Mrs. + Delacour is, as you see, so much taken up with her own affairs, that she + has no curiosity for those of her neighbours; and Mr. Hartley is as busy + as—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. who? Mr. Hartley did you say?” interrupted Clarence, eagerly turning + his eyes upon the stranger, who was a middle-aged gentleman, exactly + answering the description of the person who had been at the Asylum in + search of his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hartley! yes. What astonishes you so much?” said X——, + calmly. “He is a West Indian. I met him in Cambridgeshire last summer, at + his friend Mr. Horton’s; he has been very generous to the poor people who + suffered by the fire, and he is now consulting with Mrs. Delacour, who has + an estate adjoining to Mr. Horton’s, about her tenants, whose houses in + the village were burnt. Now I have, in as few words and parentheses as + possible, told you all I know of Mr. Hartley’s history; but your curiosity + still looks voracious.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know whether he has a miniature?” said Clarence, hastily. + “Introduce me to him, for Heaven’s sake, directly!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hartley,” cried the doctor, raising his voice, “give me leave to + introduce my friend Mr. Hervey to you, and to your miniature picture, if + you have one.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartley sighed profoundly as he drew from his bosom a small portrait, + which he put into Mr. Hervey’s hands, saying, “Alas! sir, you cannot, I + fear, give me any tidings of the original; it is the picture of a + daughter, whom I have never seen since she was an infant—whom I + never shall see again.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence instantly knew it to be Virginia; but as he was upon the point of + making some joyful exclamation, he felt Dr. X—— touch his + shoulder, and looking up at Mr. Hartley, he saw in his countenance such + strong workings of passion, that he prudently suppressed his own emotion, + and calmly said, “It would be cruel, sir, to give you false hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “It would kill me—it would kill me, sir!—or worse!—worse! + a thousand times worse!” cried Mr. Hartley, putting his hand to his + forehead. “What,” continued he impatiently, “what was the meaning of the + look you gave, when you first saw that picture? Speak, if you have any + humanity! Did you ever see any one that resembles that picture?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen, I think, a picture,” said Clarence Hervey, “that has some + resemblance to it.” + </p> + <p> + “When? where?—” + </p> + <p> + “My good sir,” said Dr. X——, “let me recommend it to you to + consider that there is scarcely any possibility of judging, from the + features of children, of what their faces may be when they grow up. + Nothing can be more fallacious than these accidental resemblances between + the pictures of children and of grown-up people.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartley’s countenance fell. + </p> + <p> + “But,” added Clarence Hervey, “you will perhaps, sir, think it worth your + while to see the picture of which I speak: you can see it at Mr. F——‘s, + the painter, in Newman-street; and I will accompany you thither whenever + you please.” + </p> + <p> + “This moment, if you would have the goodness: my carriage is at the door; + and Mrs. Delacour will be so kind to excuse ——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, make no apologies to me at such a time as this,” said Mrs. Delacour. + “Away with you, gentlemen, as soon as you please; upon condition, that if + you have any good news to tell, some of you will remember, in the midst of + your joy, that such an old woman as Mrs. Margaret Delacour exists, who + loves to hear <i>good</i> news of those who deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “It was so late in the day when they got to Newman-street, that they were + obliged to light candles. Trembling with eagerness, Mr. Hartley drew near, + while Clarence held the light to the picture. + </p> + <p> + “It is so like,” said he, looking at his miniature, “that I dare not + believe my senses. Dr. X——, pray do you look. My head is so + dizzy, and my eyes so——What do you think, sir? What do you + say, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “That the likeness is certainly striking—but this seems to be a + fancy piece.” + </p> + <p> + “A fancy piece,” repeated Mr. Hartley, with terror: “why then did you + bring me here?—A fancy piece!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; it is a portrait,” said Clarence; “and if you will be calm, I + will tell you more.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be calm—only is she alive?” + </p> + <p> + “The lady, of whom this is the portrait, is alive,” replied Clarence + Hervey, who was obliged to exert his utmost command over himself, to + maintain that composure which he saw was necessary; “the lady, of whom + this is the portrait, is alive, and you shall see her to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why not now? Cannot I see her now? I must see her to-night—this + instant, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” said Mr. Hervey, “that you should see her this + instant, for she is some miles off, at Twickenham.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too late to go thither now; you cannot think of it, Mr. Hartley,” + continued Dr. X——, in a tone of command, to which he yielded + more readily than to reason. + </p> + <p> + Clarence had the presence of mind to recollect that it would be necessary + to prepare poor Virginia for this meeting, and he sent a messenger + immediately to request that Mrs. Ormond would communicate the intelligence + with all the caution in her power. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, Mr. Hartley and Mr. Hervey set off together for + Twickenham. In their way thither Clarence gradually confirmed Mr. Hartley + in the belief that Virginia was his daughter, by relating all the + circumstances that he had learned from her grandmother, and from Mrs. + Smith, the farmer’s wife, with whom she had formerly been acquainted: the + name, the age, every particular, as it was disclosed, heightened his + security and his joy. + </p> + <p> + For some time Mr. Hartley’s mind was so intent that he could not listen to + any thing, but at last Clarence engaged his attention and suspended his + anxiety, by giving him a history of his own connexion with Virginia, from + the day of his first discovering her in the New Forest, to the letter + which he had just written, to offer her his hand. The partiality which it + was suspected Virginia felt for him was the only circumstance which he + suppressed, because, notwithstanding all Mrs. Ormond had said, and all he + had himself heard and seen, his obstinate incredulity required + confirmation under her own hand, or positively from her own lips. He still + fancied it was possible that change of situation might alter her views and + sentiments; and he earnestly entreated that she might be left entirely to + her own decision. It was necessary to make this stipulation with her + father; for in the excess of his gratitude for the kindness which Clarence + had shown to her, he protested that he should look upon her as a monster + if she did not love him: he added, that if Mr. Hervey had not a farthing, + he should prefer him to every man upon earth; he, however, promised that + he would conceal his wishes, and that his daughter should act entirely + from the dictates of her own mind. In the fulness of his heart, he told + Clarence all those circumstances of his conduct towards Virginia’s mother + which had filled his soul with remorse. She was scarcely sixteen when he + ran away with her from a boarding-school; he was at that time a gay + officer, she a sentimental girl, who had been spoiled by early + novel-reading. Her father had a small place at court, lived beyond his + fortune, educated his daughter, to whom he could give no portion, as if + she were to be heiress to a large estate; then died, and left his widow + absolutely in penury. This widow was the old lady who lived in the cottage + in the New Forest. It was just at the time of her husband’s death, and of + her own distress, that she heard of the elopement of her daughter from + school. Mr. Hartley’s parents were so much incensed by the match, that he + was prevailed upon to separate from his wife, and to go abroad, to push + his fortune in the army. His marriage had been secret: his own friends + disavowed it, notwithstanding the repeated, urgent entreaties of his wife + and of her mother, who was her only surviving relation. His wife, on her + death-bed, wrote to urge him to take charge of his daughter; and, to make + the appeal stronger to his feelings, she sent him a picture of his little + girl, who was then about four years old. Mr. Hartley, however, was intent + upon forming a new connexion with the rich widow of a planter in Jamaica. + He married the widow, took possession of her fortune, and all his + affections soon were fixed upon a son, for whom he formed, even from the + moment of his birth, various schemes of aggrandizement. The boy lived till + he was about ten years old, when he caught a fever, which at that time + raged in Jamaica, and, after a few days’ illness, died. His mother was + carried off by the same disease; and Mr. Hartley, left alone in the midst + of his wealth, felt how insufficient it was to happiness. Remorse now + seized him; he returned to England in search of his deserted daughter. To + this neglected child he now looked forward for the peace and happiness of + the remainder of his life. Disappointment in all his inquiries for some + months preyed upon his spirits to such a degree, that his intellects were + at times disordered; this derangement was the cause of his not sooner + recovering his child. He was in confinement during the time that Clarence + Hervey’s advertisements were inserted in the papers; and his illness was + also the cause of his not going to Portsmouth, and sailing in the + Effingham, as he had originally intended. The history of his connexion + with Mr. Horton would be uninteresting to the reader; it is enough to say, + that he was prevailed upon, by that gentleman, to spend some time in the + country with him, for the recovery of his health; and it was there that he + became acquainted with Dr. X——, who introduced him, as we have + seen, to Mrs. Margaret Delacour, at whose house he met Clarence Hervey. + This is the most succinct account that we can give of him and his affairs. + His own account was ten times as long; but we spare our readers his + incoherences and reflections, because, perhaps, they are in a hurry to get + to Twickenham, and to hear of his meeting with Virginia. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ormond found it no easy task to prepare Virginia for the sight of Mr. + Hartley. Virginia had scarcely ever spoken of her father; but the + remembrance of things which she had heard of him from her grandmother was + fresh in her mind; she had often pictured him in her fancy, and she had + secretly nourished the hope that she should not for ever be a <i>deserted + child</i>. Mrs. Ormond had observed, that in those romances, of which she + was so fond, every thing that related to children who were deserted by + their parents affected her strongly. + </p> + <p> + The belief in what the French call <i>la force du sang</i> was suited to + her affectionate temper and ardent imagination, and it had taken full + possession of her mind. The eloquence of romance persuaded her that she + should not only discover but love her father with intuitive filial piety, + and she longed to experience those yearnings of affection of which she had + read so much. + </p> + <p> + The first moment that Mrs. Ormond began to speak of Mr. Clarence Hervey’s + hopes of discovering her father, she was transported with joy. + </p> + <p> + “My <i>father</i>!—How delightful that word <i>father</i> sounds!—<i>My</i> + father?—May I say <i>my</i> father?—And will he own me, and + will he love me, and will he give me his blessing, and will he fold me in + his arms, and call me his daughter, his dear daughter?—Oh, how I + shall love him! I will make it the whole business of my life to please + him!” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>whole</i> business?” said Mrs. Ormond, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Not the whole,” said Virginia; “I hope my father will like Mr. Hervey. + Did not you say that he is rich? I wish that my father may be <i>very</i> + rich.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the last wish that I should have expected to hear from you, my + Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you not know why I wish it?—that I may show my gratitude to + Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,” said Mrs. Ormond, “these are most generous sentiments, + and worthy of you; but do not let your imagination run away with you at + this rate—Mr. Hervey is rich enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he were poor,” said Virginia, “that I might make him rich.” + </p> + <p> + “He would not love you the better, my dear,” said Mrs. Ormond, “if you had + the wealth of the Indies. Perhaps your father may not be rich; therefore + do not set your heart upon this idea.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia sighed: fear succeeded to hope, and her imagination immediately + reversed the bright picture that it had drawn. + </p> + <p> + “But I am afraid,” said she, “that this gentleman is not my father—how + disappointed I shall be! I wish you had never told me all this, my dear + Mrs. Ormond.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not have told it to you, if Mr. Hervey had not desired that I + should; and you maybe sure he would not have desired it, unless he had + good reason to believe that you would not be disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is not sure—he does not say he is quite sure. And, even if I + were quite certain of his being my father, how can I be certain that he + will not disown me—he, who has deserted me so long? My grandmother, + I remember, often used to say that he had no natural affection.” + </p> + <p> + “Your grandmother was mistaken, then; for he has been searching for his + child all over England, Mr. Hervey says; and he has almost lost his senses + with grief and with remorse!” + </p> + <p> + “Remorse!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, remorse, for having so long deserted you: he fears that you will + hate him.” + </p> + <p> + “Hate him!—is it possible to hate a father?” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “He dreads that you should never forgive him.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive him!—I have read of parents forgiving their children, but I + never remember to have read of a daughter forgiving her father. <i>Forgive!</i> + you should not have used that word. I cannot <i>forgive</i> my father: but + I can love him, and I will make him quite forget all his sorrows—I + mean, all his sorrows about me.” + </p> + <p> + After this conversation Virginia spent her time in imagining what sort of + person her father would be; whether he was like Mr. Hervey; what words he + would say; where he would sit; whether he would sit beside her; and, above + all, whether he would give her his blessing. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said she, “of liking my father better than <i>any body else</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “No danger of that, my dear,” said Mrs. Ormond, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it, for it would be very wrong and <i>ungrateful</i> to like + any thing in this world so well as Mr. Hervey.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage now came to the door: Mrs. Ormond instantly ran to the + window, but Virginia had not power to move—her heart beat violently. + </p> + <p> + “Is he come?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is getting out of the carriage this moment!” + </p> + <p> + Virginia stood with her eyes eagerly fixed upon the door: “Hark!” said + she, laying her hand upon Mrs. Ormond’s arm, to prevent her from moving: + “Hush! that we may hear his voice.” + </p> + <p> + She was breathless—no voice was to be heard: “They are not coming,” + said she, turning as pale as death. An instant afterwards her colour + returned—she heard the steps of two people coming up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “His step!—Do you hear it?—Is it my father?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia’s imagination was worked to the highest pitch; she could scarcely + sustain herself: Mrs. Ormond supported her. At this instant her father + appeared. + </p> + <p> + “My child!—the image of her mother!” exclaimed he, stopping short: + he sunk upon a chair. + </p> + <p> + “My father!” cried Virginia, springing forward, and throwing herself at + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “The voice of her mother!” said Mr. Hartley. “My daughter!—My long + lost child!” + </p> + <p> + He tried to raise her, but could not; her arms were clasped round his + knee, her face rested upon it, and when he stooped to kiss her cheek, he + found it cold—she had fainted. + </p> + <p> + When she came to her senses, and found herself in her father’s arms, she + could scarcely believe that it was not a dream. + </p> + <p> + “Your blessing!—give me your blessing, and then I shall know that + you are indeed my father!” cried Virginia, kneeling to him, and looking up + with an enthusiastic expression of filial piety in her countenance. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my sweet child!” said he, laying his hand upon her; “and + God forgive your father!” + </p> + <p> + “My grandmother died without giving me her blessing,” said Virginia; “but + now I have been blessed by my father! Happy, happy moment!—O that + she could look down from heaven, and see us at this instant!” + </p> + <p> + Virginia was so much astonished and overpowered by this sudden discovery + of a parent, and by the novelty of his first caresses, that after the + first violent effervescence of her sensibility was over, she might, to an + indifferent spectator, have appeared stupid and insensible. Mrs. Ormond, + though far from an indifferent spectator, was by no means a penetrating + judge of the human heart: she seldom saw more than the external symptoms + of feeling, and she was apt to be rather impatient with her friends if + theirs did not accord with her own. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, my dear,” said she, in rather a reproachful tone, “Mr. Hervey, + you see, has left the room, on purpose to leave you at full liberty to + talk to your father; and I am going—but you are so silent!” + </p> + <p> + “I have so much to say, and my heart is so full!” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know you told me of a thousand things that you had to say to your + father, before you saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “But now I see him, I have forgotten them all. I can think of nothing but + of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Of him and Mr. Hervey,” said Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “I was not thinking of Mr. Hervey at that moment,” said Virginia, + blushing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my love, I will leave you to think and talk of what you please,” + said Mrs. Ormond, smiling significantly as she left the room. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hartley folded his daughter in his arms with the fondest expressions + of parental affection, and he was upon the point of telling her how much + he approved of the choice of her heart; but he recollected his promise, + and he determined to sound her inclinations farther, before he even + mentioned the name of Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + He began by painting the pleasures of the world, that world from which she + had hitherto been secluded. + </p> + <p> + She heard him with simple indifference: not even her curiosity was + excited. + </p> + <p> + He observed, that though she had no curiosity to see, it was natural that + she must have some pleasure in the thoughts of being seen. + </p> + <p> + “What pleasure?” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “The pleasure of being admired and loved: beauty and grace such as yours, + my child, cannot be seen without commanding admiration and love.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to be admired,” replied Virginia, “and I want to be loved + by those only whom I love.” + </p> + <p> + “My dearest daughter, you shall be entirely your own mistress; I will + never interfere, either directly or indirectly, in the disposal of your + heart.” + </p> + <p> + At these last words, Virginia, who had listened to all the rest unmoved, + took her father’s hand, and kissed it repeatedly. + </p> + <p> + “Now that I have found you, my darling child, let me at least make you + happy, if I can—it is the only atonement in my power; it will be the + only solace of my declining years. All that wealth can bestow—” + </p> + <p> + “Wealth!” interrupted Virginia: “then you have wealth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my child—may it make you happy! that is all the enjoyment I + expect from it: it shall all be yours.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I do what I please with it?—Oh, then it will indeed make me + happy. I will give it all, all to Mr. Hervey. How delightful to have + something to <i>give</i> to Mr. Hervey!” + </p> + <p> + “And had you never any thing to give to Mr. Hervey till now?” + </p> + <p> + “Never! never! he has given me every thing. Now—oh, joyful day!—I + can prove to him that Virginia is not ungrateful!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, generous girl,” said her father, wiping the tears from his eyes, + “what a daughter have I found! But tell me, my child,” continued he, + smiling, “do you think Mr. Hervey will be content if you give him only + your fortune? Do you think that he would accept the fortune without the + heart? Nay, do not turn away that dear blushing face from me; remember it + is <i>your father</i> who speaks to you. Mr. Hervey will not take your + fortune without yourself, I am afraid: what shall we do? Must I refuse him + your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Refuse him! do you think that I could refuse him any thing, who has given + me every thing?—I should be a monster indeed! There is no sacrifice + I would not make, no exertion of which I am not capable, for Mr. Hervey’s + sake. But, my dear father,” said she, changing her tone, “he never asked + for my hand till yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + But he had won your heart long ago, I see, thought her father. + </p> + <p> + “I have written an answer to his letter; will you look at it, and tell me + if you approve of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do approve of it, my darling child: I will not read it—I know + what it must be: he has a right to the preference he has so nobly earned.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he has—he has, indeed!” cried Virginia, with an expression of + strong feeling; “and now is the time to show him that I am not + ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + “How I love you for this, my child!” cried her father, fondly embracing + her. “This is exactly what I wished, though I did not dare to say so till + I was sure of your sentiments. Mr. Hervey charged me to leave you entirely + to yourself; he thought that your new situation might perhaps produce some + change in your sentiments: I see he was mistaken; and I am heartily glad + of it. But you are going to say something, my dear; do not let me + interrupt you.” + </p> + <p> + “I was only going to beg that you would give this letter, my dear father, + to Mr. Hervey. It is an answer to one which he wrote to me when I was + poor”—<i>and deserted</i>, she was near saying, but she stopped + herself. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” continued she, “Mr. Hervey should know that my sentiments are + precisely the same now that they have always been. Tell him,” added she, + proudly, “that he did me injustice by imagining that my sentiments could + alter with my situation. He little knows Virginia.” Clarence at this + moment entered the room, and Mr. Hartley eagerly led his daughter to meet + him. + </p> + <p> + “Take her hand,” cried he; “you have her heart—you deserve it; and + she has just been very angry with me for doubting. But read her letter,—that + will speak better for her, and more to your satisfaction, no doubt, than I + can.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia hastily put the letter into Mr. Hervey’s hand, and, breaking from + her father, retired to her own apartment. + </p> + <p> + With all the trepidation of a person who feels that the happiness of his + life is to be decided in a few moments, Clarence tore open Virginia’s + letter, and, conscious that he was not able to command his emotion, he + withdrew from her father’s inquiring eyes. Mr. Hartley, however, saw + nothing in this agitation but what he thought natural to a lover, and he + was delighted to perceive that his daughter had inspired so strong a + passion. + </p> + <p> + Virginia’s letter contained but these few lines: + </p> + <p> + “Most happy shall I be if the whole of my future life can prove to you how + deeply I feel your goodness. + </p> + <p> + “VIRGINIA ST. PIERRE.” + </p> + <p> + [<i>End of C. Hervey’s packet</i>.] + </p> + <p> + An acceptance so direct left Clarence no alternative: his fate was + decided. He determined immediately to force himself to see Belinda and Mr. + Vincent; for he fancied that his mind would be more at ease when he had + convinced himself by ocular demonstration that she was absolutely engaged + to another; that, consequently, even if he were free, he could have no + chance of gaining her affections. There are moments when we desire the + conviction which at another time would overwhelm us with despair: it was + in this temper that Mr. Hervey paid his visit to Lady Delacour; but we + have seen that he was unable to support for many minutes that philosophic + composure to which, at his first entrance into the room, he had worked up + his mind. The tranquillity which he had expected would be the consequence + of this visit, he was farther than ever from obtaining. The extravagant + joy with which Lady Delacour received him, and an indescribable something + in her manner when she looked from him to Belinda, and from Belinda to Mr. + Vincent, persuaded him her ladyship wished that he were in Mr. Vincent’s + place. The idea was so delightful, that his soul was entranced, and for a + few minutes Virginia, and every thing that related to her, vanished from + his remembrance. It was whilst he was in this state that Lady Delacour (as + the reader may recollect) invited him into her lord’s dressing-room, to + tell her the contents of the packet, which had not then reached her hands. + The request suddenly recalled him to his senses, but he felt that he was + not at this moment able to trust himself to her ladyship’s penetration; he + therefore referred her to his letter for that explanation which he dreaded + to make in person, and he escaped from Belinda’s presence, resolving never + more to expose himself to such danger. + </p> + <p> + What effect his packet produced on Lady Delacour’s mind and on Belinda’s, + we shall not at present stop to inquire; but having brought up Clarence + Hervey’s affairs to the present day, we shall continue his history. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. — E O. + </h2> + <p> + Though Clarence Hervey was not much disposed to see either Virginia or her + father whilst he was in the state of perturbation into which he had been + thrown by his interview with Belinda, yet he did not delay to send his + servant home with a note to Mrs. Ormond, to say that he would meet Mr. + Hartley, whenever he pleased, at his lawyer’s, to make whatever + arrangements might be necessary for proper settlements. + </p> + <p> + As he saw no possibility of receding with honour, he, with becoming + resolution, desired to urge things forward as fast as possible, and to + strengthen in his mind the sense of the <i>necessity</i> of the sacrifice + that he was bound to make. His passions were naturally impetuous, but he + had by persevering efforts brought them under the subjection of his + reason. His power over himself was now to be put to a severe trial. + </p> + <p> + As he was going to town, he met Lord Delacour, who was riding in the park: + he was extremely intent upon his own thoughts, and was anxious to pass + unnoticed. In former times this would have been the most feasible thing + imaginable, for Lord Delacour used to detest the sight of Clarence Hervey, + whom he considered as the successor of Colonel Lawless in his lady’s + favour; but his opinion and his feelings had been entirely changed by the + perusal of those letters, which were perfumed with ottar of roses: even + this perfume had, from that association, become agreeable to him. He now + accosted Clarence with a warmth and cordiality in his manner that at any + other moment must have pleased as much as it surprised him; but Clarence + was not in a humour to enter into conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be in haste, Mr. Hervey,” said his lordship, observing his + impatience; “but, as I know your good-nature, I shall make no scruple to + detain you a quarter of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he turned his horse, and rode with Clarence, who looked as if + he wished that his lordship had been more scrupulous, and that he had not + such a reputation for good-nature. + </p> + <p> + “You will not refuse me this quarter of an hour, I am sure,” continued + Lord Delacour, “when you hear that, by favouring me with your attention, + you may perhaps materially serve an old, or rather a young, friend of + yours, and one whom I once fancied was a particular favourite—I + mean, Miss Belinda Portman.” + </p> + <p> + At the name of Belinda Portman, Clarence Hervey became all attention: he + assured his lordship that he was in no haste; and all his difficulty now + was to moderate the eagerness of his curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “We can take a turn or two in the park, as well as any where,” said his + lordship: “nobody will overhear us, and the sooner you know what I have to + say the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + The most malevolent person upon earth could not have tired poor Clarence’s + patience more than good-natured Lord Delacour contrived to do, with the + best intentions possible, by his habitual circumlocution. + </p> + <p> + He descanted at length upon the difficulties, as the world goes, of + meeting with a confidential friend, whom it is prudent to trust in any + affair that demands delicacy, honour, and address. Men of talents were + often, he observed, devoid of integrity, and men of integrity devoid of + talents. When he had obtained Hervey’s assent to this proposition, he next + paid him sundry handsome, but long-winded compliments: then he + complimented himself for having just thought of Mr. Hervey as the fittest + person he could apply to: then he congratulated himself upon his good luck + in meeting with the very man he was just thinking of. At last, after + Clarence had returned thanks for all his kindness, and had given assent to + all his lordship’s truisms, the substance of the business came out. + </p> + <p> + Lord Delacour informed Mr. Hervey, “that he had been lately commissioned, + by Lady Delacour, to discover what attractions drew a Mr. Vincent so + constantly to Mrs. Luttridge’s——” + </p> + <p> + Here he was going to explain who Mr. Vincent was; but Clarence assured him + that he knew perfectly well that he had been a ward of Mr. Percival’s, + that he was a West Indian of large fortune, &c. + </p> + <p> + “And a lover of Miss Portman’s—that is the most material part of the + story to <i>me</i>,” continued Lord Delacour; “for otherwise, you know, + Mr. Vincent would be no more to me than any other gentleman. But in that + point of view—I mean as a lover of Belinda Portman, and I may say, + not quite unlikely to be her husband—he is highly interesting to my + Lady Delacour, and to me, and to you, as Miss Portman’s well-wisher, + doubtless.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless!” was all Mr. Hervey could reply. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you must know,” continued his lordship, “that Lady Delacour has, for + a woman, an uncommon share of penetration, and can put things together in + a wonderful way: in short, it has come to her (my Lady Delacour’s) + knowledge, that before Miss Portman was at Oakly-park last summer, and + after she left it this autumn, Mr. Vincent was a constant visitor at Mrs. + Luttridge’s, whilst at Harrowgate, and used to play high (though unknown + to the Percivals, of course) at billiards with Mr. Luttridge—a <i>man</i>, + I confess, I disliked <i>always</i>, even when I carried the election for + them. But no matter: it is not from enmity I speak now. But it is very + well known that Luttridge has but a small fortune, and yet lives as if he + had a large one; and all the young men who like high play are sure to be + well received at his house. Now, I hope Mr. Vincent is not well received + on that footing. + </p> + <p> + “Since my Lady Delacour and I have been such good friends,” continued his + lordship, “I have dropped all connexion with the Luttridges; so cannot go + there myself: moreover, I do not wish to be tempted to lose any more + thousands to the lady. But you never play, and you are not likely to be + tempted to it now; so you will oblige me and Lady Delacour if you will go + to Luttridge’s to-night: she is always charmed to see you, and you will + easily discover how the land lies. Mr. Vincent is certainly a very + agreeable, open-hearted young man; but, if he game, God forbid that Miss + Portman should ever be his wife!” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” said Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “The man,” resumed Lord Delacour, “must, in my opinion, be very superior + indeed who is deserving of Belinda Portman. Oh, Mr. Hervey, you do not—you + cannot know her merit, as I do. It is one thing, sir, to see a fine girl + in a ball-room, and another—quite another—to live in the house + with her for months, and to see her, as I have seen Belinda Portman, in + every-day life, as one may call it. <i>Then</i> it is one can judge of the + real temper, manners, and character; and never woman had so sweet a + temper, such charming manners, such a fair, open, generous, decided yet + gentle character, as this Miss Portman.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship speaks <i>con amore</i>,” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “I speak, Mr. Hervey, from the bottom of my soul,” cried Lord Delacour, + pulling in his horse, and stopping short. “I should be an unfeeling, + ungrateful brute, if I were not sensible of the obligations—yes, the + obligations—which my Lady Delacour and I have received from Belinda + Portman. Why, sir, she has been the peacemaker between us—but we + will not talk of that now. Let us think of her affairs. If Mr. Vincent + once gets into Mrs. Luttridge’s cursed set, there’s no knowing where it + will end. I speak from my own experience, for I really never was fond of + high play; and yet, when I got into that set, I could not withstand it. I + lost by hundreds and thousands; and so will he, before he is aware of it, + no doubt. Mrs. Luttridge will look upon him as her dupe, and make him + such. I always—but this is between ourselves—suspected that I + did not lose my last thousand to her fairly. Now, Hervey, you know the + whole, do try and save Mr. Vincent, for Belinda Portman’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey shook hands with Lord Delacour, with a sentiment of real + gratitude and affection; and assured him that his confidence was not + misplaced. His lordship little suspected that he had been soliciting him + to save his rival. Clarence’s love was not of that selfish sort which the + moment that it is deprived of hope sinks into indifference, or is + converted into hatred. Belinda could not be his; but, in the midst of the + bitterest regret, he was supported by the consciousness of his own honour + and generosity: he felt a noble species of delight in the prospect of + promoting the happiness of the woman upon whom his fondest affections had + been fixed; and he rejoiced to feel that he had sufficient magnanimity to + save a rival from ruin. He was even determined to make that rival his + friend, notwithstanding the prepossession which, he clearly perceived, Mr. + Vincent felt against him. + </p> + <p> + “His jealousy will be extinguished the moment he knows my real situation,” + said Clarence to himself. “He will be convinced that I have a soul + incapable of envy; and, if he suspect my love for Belinda, he will respect + the strength of mind with which I can command my passions. I take it for + granted that Mr. Vincent must possess a heart and understanding such as I + should desire in a friend, or he could never be—what he is to + Belinda.” + </p> + <p> + Full of these generous sentiments, Clarence waited with impatience for the + hour when he might present himself at Mrs. Luttridge’s. He went there so + early in the evening, that he found the drawing-room quite empty; the + company, who had been invited to dine, had not yet left the dining-room, + and the servants had but just set the card-tables and lighted the candles. + Mr. Hervey desired that nobody should be disturbed by his coming so early; + and, fortunately, Mrs. Luttridge was detained some minutes by Lady + Newland’s lingering glass of Madeira. In the mean time, Clarence executed + his design. From his former observations, and from the hints that Lord + Delacour had let fall, he suspected that there was sometimes in this house + not only high play, but foul play: he recollected that once, when he + played there at billiards, he had perceived that the table was not + perfectly horizontal; and it occurred to him, that perhaps the E O table + might be so contrived as to put the fortunes of all who played at it in + the power of the proprietor. Clarence had sufficient ingenuity to invent + the method by which this might be done; and he had the infallible means in + his possession of detecting the fraud. The E O table was in an apartment + adjoining to the drawing-room: he found his way to it; and he discovered, + beyond a possibility of doubt, that it was constructed for the purposes of + fraud. His first impulse was to tell this immediately to Mr. Vincent, to + put him on his guard; but, upon reflection, he determined to keep his + discovery to himself, till he was satisfied whether that gentleman had or + had not any passion for play. + </p> + <p> + “If he have,” thought Clarence, “it is of the utmost consequence to Miss + Portman that he should early in life receive a shock that may leave an + indelible impression upon his mind. To save him a few hours of remorse, I + will not give up the power of doing him the most essential service. I will + let him go on—if he be so inclined—to the very verge of ruin + and despair: I will let him feel all the horrors of a gamester’s fate, + before I tell him that I have the means to save him. Mrs. Luttridge must, + when I call upon her, refund whatever he may lose: she will not brave + public shame—she cannot stand a public prosecution.” + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had Clarence arranged his scheme, when he heard the voices of the + ladies, who were coming up stairs. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Luttridge made her appearance, accompanied by a very pretty, modish, + affected young lady, Miss Annabella Luttridge, her niece. Her little + coquettish airs were lost upon Clarence Hervey, whose eye was intently + fixed upon the door, watching for the entrance of Mr. Vincent. He was one + of the dinner party, and he came up soon after the ladies. He seemed + prepared for the sight of Mr. Hervey, to whom he bowed with a cold, + haughty air; and then addressed himself to Miss Annabella Luttridge, who + showed the most obvious desire to attract his attention. + </p> + <p> + From all that passed this evening, Mr. Hervey was led to suspect, + notwithstanding the reasons which made it apparently improbable, that the + fair Annabella was the secret cause of Mr. Vincent’s frequent visits at + her aunt’s. It was natural that Clarence should be disposed to this + opinion, from the circumstances of his own situation. During three hours + that he stayed at Mrs. Luttridge’s, Mr. Vincent never joined any of the + parties at play; but, just as he was going away, he heard some one say—“How + comes it, Vincent, that you’ve been idle all night?” This question revived + Mr. Hervey’s suspicions; and, uncertain what report he should make to Lord + Delacour, he resolved to defer making any, till he had farther + opportunities of judging. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Hervey asked himself how it was possible that the pupil of Mr. + Percival could become a gamester, he forgot that Mr. Vincent had not been + educated by his guardian; that he had lived in the West Indies till he was + eighteen; and that he had only been under the care of Mr. Percival for a + few years, after his habits and character were in a great measure formed. + The taste for gambling he had acquired whilst he was a child; but, as it + was then confined to trifles, it had been passed over, as a thing of no + consequence, a boyish folly, that would never grow up with him: his father + used to see him, day after day, playing with eagerness at games of chance, + with his negroes, or with the sons of neighbouring planters; yet he was + never alarmed: he was too intent upon making a fortune for his family to + consider how they would spend it; and he did not foresee that this boyish + fault might be the means of his son’s losing, in a few hours, the wealth + which he had been many years amassing. When young Vincent came over to + England, Mr. Percival had not immediate opportunities of discovering this + particular foible in his ward; but he perceived that in his mind there was + that presumptuous belief in his special good fortune which naturally leads + to the love of gambling. Instead of lecturing him, his guardian appealed + to his understanding, and took opportunities of showing him the ruinous + effects of high play in real life. Young Vincent was touched, and, as he + thought, convinced; but his emotion was stronger than his conviction—his + feelings were always more powerful than his reason. His detestation of the + selfish character of a gamester was felt and expressed with enthusiasm and + eloquence; and his indignation rose afterwards at the slightest hint that + <i>he</i> might ever in future be tempted to become what he abhorred. + Unfortunately he disdained prudence, as the factitious virtue of inferior + minds: he thought that the <i>feelings</i> of a man of honour were to be + his guide in the first and last appeal; and for his conduct through life, + as a man and as a gentleman, he proudly professed to trust to the sublime + instinct of a good heart. His guardian’s doubts of the infallibility and + even of the existence of this moral instinct wounded Mr. Vincent’s pride + instead of alarming his understanding; and he was rather eager than averse + to expose himself to the danger, that he might prove his superiority to + the temptation. How different are the feelings in different situations! + Yet often as this has been repeated, how difficult it is to impress the + truth upon inexperienced, sanguine minds!—Whilst young Vincent was + immediately under his guardian’s eye at Oakly-park, his safety from vice + appeared to him inglorious; he was impatient to sally forth into the + world, confident rather of his innate than acquired virtue. + </p> + <p> + When he first became acquainted with Mrs. Luttridge at Harrowgate, he knew + that she was a professed gambler, and he despised the character; yet + without reflecting on the danger, or perhaps for the pleasure of + convincing Mr. Percival that he was superior to it, he continued his + visits. For some time he was a passive spectator. Billiards, however, was + a game of address, not chance; there was a billiard-table at Oakly-park, + as well as at Mr. Luttridge’s, and he had played with his guardian. Why, + then, should he not play with Mr. Luttridge? He did play: his skill was + admired; he betted, and his bets were successful: but he did not call this + gaming, for the bets were not to any great amount, and it was only playing + at billiards. Mr. Percival was delayed in town some weeks longer than + usual, and he knew nothing of the manner in which his young friend spent + his time. As soon as Mr. Vincent heard of his arrival at Oakly-park, he + left half finished his game at billiards; and, fortunately for him, the + charms of Belinda made him forget for some months that such a thing as a + billiard-table existed. All that had happened at Mr. Luttridge’s passed + from his mind as a dream; and whilst his heart was agitated by his new + passion, he could scarcely believe that he had ever been interested by any + other feelings. He was surprised when he accidentally recollected the + eagerness with which he used to <i>amuse</i> himself in Mr. Luttridge’s + company; but he was certain that all this was passed for ever; and + precisely because he was under the dominion of one strong passion, he + thought he could never be under the dominion of another. Thus persisting + in his disdain of reason as a moral guide, Mr. Vincent thought, acted, and + suffered as a man of feeling. Scarcely had Belinda left Oakly-park for one + week when the ennui consequent to violent passion became insupportable; + and to console himself for her absence he flew to the billiard-table. + Emotion of some kind or other was become necessary to him; he said that + not to feel was not to live; and soon the suspense, the anxiety, the + hopes, the fears, the perpetual vicissitudes of a gamester’s life, seemed + to him almost as delightful as those of a lover’s. Deceived by these + appearances, Mrs. Luttridge thought that his affection for Belinda either + was or might be conquered, and her hopes of obtaining his fortune for her + niece Annabella revived. As Mr. Vincent could not endure Mrs. Freke, she + abstained, at her friend’s particular desire, from appearing at her house + whilst he was there, and Mrs. Luttridge interested him much in her own + favour, by representing her indignation at <i>Harriot’s</i> conduct to be + such that it had occasioned a total breach in their friendship. Mrs. + Freke’s sudden departure from Harrowgate confirmed the probability of this + quarrel; yet these two ladies were secretly leagued together in a design + of breaking off Mr. Vincent’s match with Belinda, against whom Mrs. Freke + had vowed revenge. The anonymous letter, which she hoped would work her + purpose, produced, however, an effect totally unexpected upon his generous + mind: he did not guess the writer; but his indignation against such base + accusations burst forth with a violence that astounded Mrs. Luttridge. His + love for Belinda appeared ten times more enthusiastic than before—the + moment she was accused, he felt himself her defender, as well as her + lover. He was dispossessed of the evil spirit of gambling as if by a + miracle; and the billiard-table, and Mrs. Luttridge, and Miss Annabella, + vanished from his view. He breathed nothing but love; he would ask no + permission, he would wait for none from Belinda: he declared that instant + he would set out in search of her, and he would tear that infamous letter + to atoms in her presence; he would show her how impossible suspicion was + to his nature. The first violence of the hurricane Mrs. Luttridge could + not stand, and thought not of opposing; but whilst his horses and curricle + were getting ready, she took such an affectionate leave of his dog Juba, + and she protested so much that she and Annabella should not know how to + live without poor Juba, that Mr. Vincent, who was excessively fond of his + dog, could not help sympathizing in their sorrow: reasoning just as well + as they wished, he extended his belief in their affection for this animal + to friendship, if not love, for his master. He could not grant Mrs. + Luttridge’s earnest supplication to leave the dog behind him under her + protection; but he promised—and laid his hand upon his heart when he + promised—that Juba should wait upon Mrs. Luttridge as soon as she + went to town. This appointment being made, Miss Annabella permitted + herself to be somewhat consoled. It would be injustice to omit that she + did all that could be done by a cambric handkerchief to evince delicate + sensibility in this parting scene. Mrs. Luttridge also deserves her share + of praise for the manner in which she reproved her niece for giving way to + her feelings, and for the address with which she wished to Heaven that + poor Annabella had the calm philosophic temper of which Miss Portman was, + she understood, a most uncommon example. + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Vincent drove toward London he reflected upon these last words; and + he could not help thinking that if Belinda had more faults she would be + more amiable. + </p> + <p> + These thoughts were, however, driven from his mind, and scarcely left a + trace behind them, when he once more saw and conversed with her. The + dignity, sincerity, and kindness which she showed the evening that he put + the anonymous letter into her hands charmed and touched him, and his real + feelings and his enthusiasm conspired to make him believe that his whole + happiness depended on her smiles. The confession which she made to him of + her former attachment to Clarence Hervey, as it raised in Vincent’s mind + strong emotions of jealousy, increased his passion as much as it piqued + his pride; and she appeared in a new and highly interesting light when he + discovered that the coldness of manner which he had attributed to want of + sensibility arose probably from its excess—that her heart should + have been preoccupied was more tolerable to him than the belief of her + settled indifference. He was so intent upon these delightful varieties in + his love for Belinda that it was not till he had received a reproachful + note from Mrs. Luttridge, to remind him of his promised visit with Juba, + that he could prevail upon himself to leave Twickenham, even for a few + hours. Lady Delacour’s hatred or fear of Juba, which he accidentally + mentioned to Miss Annabella, appeared to her and to her aunt “the most + extraordinary thing upon earth;” and when it was contrasted with their + excessive fondness, it seemed to him indeed unaccountable. From pure + consideration for her ladyship’s nerves, Mrs. Luttridge petitioned Vincent + to leave the dog with her, that Helena might not be in such imminent + danger from “the animal’s monstrous jaws.” The petition was granted; and + as the petitioners foresaw, Juba became to them a most useful auxiliary. + Juba’s master called daily to see him, and sometimes when he came in the + morning Mrs. Luttridge was not at home, so that his visits were repeated + in the evening; and the evening in London is what in other places is + called the night. Mrs. Luttridge’s nights could not be passed without deep + play. The sight of the E O table at first shocked Mr. Vincent: he thought + of Mr. Percival, and he turned away from it; but to his active social + disposition it was extremely irksome to stand idle and uninterested where + all were busy and eager in one common pursuit; to his generous temper it + seemed ungentlemanlike to stand by the silent censor of the rest of the + company; and when he considered of how little importance a few hundreds or + even thousands could be to a man of his large fortune, he <i>could not + help feeling</i> that it was sordid, selfish, avaricious, to dread their + possible loss; and thus social spirit, courage, generosity, all conspired + to carry our man of feeling to the gaming-table. Once there, his ruin was + inevitable. Mrs. Luttridge, whilst she held his doom in her power, + hesitated only whether it would be more her interest to marry him to her + niece, or to content herself with his fortune. His passion for Belinda, + which she saw had been by some means or other increased, in spite of the + anonymous letter, gave her little hopes of Annabella’s succeeding, even + with the assistance of Juba and delicate sensibility. So the aunt, + careless of her niece’s disappointment, determined that Mr. Vincent should + be <i>her</i> victim; and sensible that she must not give him time for + reflection, she hurried him on, till, in the course of a few evenings + spent at the E O table, he lost not only thousands, but tens of thousands. + One lucky night, she assured him, would set all to rights; the run could + not always be against him, and fortune must change in his favour, if he + tried her with sufficient perseverance. + </p> + <p> + The horror, the agony of mind, which he endured at this sudden ruin which + seemed impending over him—the recollection of Belinda, of Mr. + Percival, almost drove him to distraction. He retreated from the E O table + one night, swearing that he never would hazard another guinea. But his + ruin was not yet complete—he had thousands yet to lose, and Mrs. + Luttridge would not thus relinquish her prey. She persuaded him to try his + fortune <i>once</i> more. She now suffered him to regain courage, by + winning back some of his own money. His mind was relieved from the sense + of immediate danger; he rejoiced to be saved from the humiliation of + confessing his losses to Mr. Percival and Belinda. The next day he saw her + with unusual pleasure, and this was the very morning Clarence Hervey paid + his visit. The imprudence of Lady Delacour, joined perhaps to his own + consciousness that he had a secret fault, which ought to lower him in the + esteem of his mistress, made him misinterpret every thing that passed—his + jealousy was excited in the most sudden and violent manner. He flew from + Lady Delacour’s to Mrs. Luttridge’s—he was soothed and flattered by + the apparent kindness with which he was received by Annabella and her + aunt; but after dinner, when one of the servants whispered to Mrs. + Luttridge, who sat next to him, that Mr. Clarence Hervey was above stairs, + he gave such a start, that the fair Annabella’s lap did not escape a part + of the bumper of wine which he was going to drink to her health. In the + confusion and apologies which this accident occasioned, Mrs. Luttridge had + time to consider what might be the cause of the start, and she combined + her suspicions so quickly and judiciously that she guessed the truth—that + he feared to be seen at the E O table by a person who might find it for + his interest to tell the truth to Belinda Portman. “Mr. Vincent,” said + she, in a low voice, “I have such a terrible headache, that I am fit for + nothing—I am not <i>up</i> to E O to-night, so you must wait for + your revenge till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent was heartily glad to be relieved from his engagement, and he + endeavoured to escape Clarence’s suspicions, by devoting his whole time + this evening to Annabella, not in the least apprehensive that Mr. Hervey + would return the next night. Mr. Vincent was at the E O table at the usual + hour, for he was excessively anxious to regain what he had lost, not so + much for the sake of the money, which he could afford to lose, but lest + the defalcation in his fortune should lead Mr. Percival to the knowledge + of the means which had occasioned it. He could not endure, after his high + vaunts, to see himself humbled by his rash confidence in himself, and he + secretly vowed, that if he could but reinstate himself, by one night’s + good luck, he would for ever quit the society of gamblers. A few months + before this time, he would have scorned the idea of concealing any part of + his conduct, any one of his actions, from his best friend, Mr. Percival; + but his pride now reconciled him to the meanness of concealment; and here, + the acuteness of his feelings was to his own mind an excuse for + dissimulation: so fallacious is moral instinct, unenlightened or + uncontrolled by reason and religion. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent was disappointed in his hopes of regaining what he had lost. + This was not the fortunate night, which Mrs. Luttridge’s prognostics had + vainly taught him to expect: he played on, however, with all the + impetuosity of his natural temper; his judgment forsook him; he scarcely + knew what he said or did; and, in the course of a few hours, he was worked + up to such a pitch of insanity, that in one desperate moment he betted + nearly all that he was worth in the world—and lost! He stood like + one stupified: the hum of voices scarcely reached his ear—he saw + figures moving before him; but he did not distinguish who or what they + were. + </p> + <p> + Supper was announced, and the room emptied fast, whilst he remained + motionless leaning on the E O table. He was roused by Mrs. Luttridge + saying, as she passed, “Don’t you sup to-night, Mr. Hervey?”—Vincent + looked up, and saw Clarence Hervey opposite to him. His countenance + instantly changed, and the lightning of anger flashed through the gloom of + despair: he uttered not a syllable; but his looks said, “How is this, sir? + Here again to-night to watch me?—to enjoy my ruin?—to be ready + to carry the first news of it to Belinda?” + </p> + <p> + At this last thought, Vincent struck his closed hand with violence against + his forehead; and rushing by Mr. Hervey, who in vain attempted to speak to + him, he pressed into the midst of the crowd on the stairs, and let himself + be carried along with them into the supper-room. At supper he took his + usual seat between Mrs. Luttridge and the fair Annabella; and, as if + determined to brave the observing eyes of Clarence Hervey, who was at the + same table, he affected extravagant gaiety; he ate, drank, talked, and + laughed, more than any of the company. Toward the end of the supper, his + dog, who was an inmate at Mrs. Luttridge’s, licked his hand to put him in + mind that he had given him nothing to eat. + </p> + <p> + “Drink, Juba!—drink, and never have done, boy!” cried Vincent, + holding a bumper of wine to the dog’s mouth; “he’s the only dog I ever saw + taste wine.” Then snatching up some of the flowers, which ornamented the + table, he swore that Juba should henceforward be called Anacreon, and that + he deserved to be crowned with roses by the hand of beauty. The fair + Annabella instantly took a hothouse rose from her bosom, and assisted in + making the garland, with which she crowned the new Anacreon. Insensible to + his honours, the dog, who was extremely hungry, turned suddenly to Mrs. + Luttridge, by whom he had, till this night, regularly been fed with the + choicest morsels, and lifting up his huge paw, laid it, as he had been + wont to do, upon her arm. She shook it off: he, knowing nothing of the + change in his master’s affairs, laid the paw again upon her arm; and with + that familiarity to which he had long been encouraged, raised his head + almost close to the lady’s cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Down, Juba!—down, sir, down!” cried Mrs. Luttridge, in a sharp + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Down, Juba!—down, sir!” repeated Mr. Vincent, in a tone of bitter + feeling, all his assumed gaiety forsaking him at this instant: “Down, + Juba!—down, sir, down!” as low as your master, thought he; and + pushing back his chair, he rose from table, and precipitately left the + room. + </p> + <p> + Little notice was taken of his retreat; the chairs closed in; and the gap + which his vacant place left was visible but for a moment: the company were + as gay as before; the fair Annabella smiled with a grace as attractive; + and Mrs. Luttridge exulted in the success of her schemes—whilst her + victim was in the agonies of despair. + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey, who had watched every change of Vincent’s countenance, + saw the agony of soul with which he rose from the table, and quitted the + room: he suspected his purpose, and followed him immediately; but Mr. + Vincent had got out of the house before he could overtake him; which way + he was gone no one could tell, for no one had seen him; the only + information he could gain was, that he might possibly be heard of at + Nerot’s Hotel, or at Governor Montford’s, in Portland-place. The hotel was + but a few yards from Mrs. Luttridge’s. Clarence went there directly. He + asked for Mr. Vincent. One of the waiters said, that he was not yet come + in; but another called out, “Mr. Vincent, sir, did you say? I have just + shown him up to his room.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is the room?—I must see him instantly,” cried Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night—you can’t see him now, sir. Mr. Vincent won’t let you + in, I can assure you, sir. I went up myself three minutes ago, with some + letters, that came whilst he was away, but he would not let me in. I heard + him double-lock the door, and he swore terribly. I can’t go up again at + this time o’night—for my life I dare not, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is his own man?—Has Mr. Vincent any servant here?—Mr. + Vincent’s man!” cried Clarence; “let me see him!” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t, sir. Mr. Vincent has just sent his black, the only servant he + has here, out on some message. Indeed, sir, there’s no use in going up,” + continued the waiter, as Clarence sprang up two or three stairs at once: + “Mr. Vincent has desired nobody may disturb him. I give you my word, sir, + he’ll be very angry; and, besides, ‘twould be to no purpose, for he’ll not + unlock the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there but one door to the room?” said Mr. Hervey; and, as he asked the + question, he pulled a guinea out of his pocket, and touched the waiter’s + hand with it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, now I recollect—yes, sir, there’s a private door through a + closet: may be that mayn’t be fastened.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence put the guinea into the waiter’s hand, who instantly showed him + the way up the back staircase to the door that opened into Mr. Vincent’s + bed-chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me now,” whispered he, “and make no noise.” + </p> + <p> + The man withdrew; and as Mr. Hervey went close to the concealed door, to + try if it was fastened, he distinctly heard a pistol cocked. The door was + not fastened: he pushed it softly open, and saw the unfortunate man upon + his knees, the pistol in his hand, his eyes looking up to heaven. Clarence + was in one moment behind him; and, seizing hold of the pistol, he snatched + it from Vincent’s grasp with so much calm presence of mind and dexterity, + that, although the pistol was cocked, it did not go off. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hervey!” exclaimed Vincent, starting up. Astonishment overpowered all + other sensations. But the next instant recovering the power of speech, “Is + this the conduct of a gentleman, Mr. Hervey—of a man of honour,” + cried he, “thus to intrude upon my privacy; to be a spy upon my actions; + to triumph in my ruin; to witness my despair; to rob me of the only—” + </p> + <p> + He looked wildly at the pistol which Clarence held in his hand; then + snatching up another, which lay upon the table, he continued, “You are my + enemy—I know it; you are my rival; I know it; Belinda loves you! + Nay, affect not to start—this is no time for dissimulation—Belinda + loves you—you know it: for her sake, for your own, put me out of the + world—put me out of torture. It shall not be called murder: it shall + be called a duel. You have been a spy upon my actions—I demand + satisfaction. If you have one spark of honour or of courage within you, + Mr. Hervey, show it now—fight me, sir, openly as man to man, rival + to rival, enemy to enemy—fire.” + </p> + <p> + “If you fire upon me, you will repent it,” replied Clarence calmly; “for I + am not your enemy—I am not your rival.” + </p> + <p> + “You <i>are</i>,” interrupted Vincent, raising his voice to the highest + pitch of indignation: “you are my rival, though you dare not avow it! The + denial is base, false, unmanly. Oh, Belinda, is this the being you prefer + to <i>me</i>? Gamester—wretch, as I am, my soul never stooped to + falsehood! Treachery I abhor; courage, honour, and a heart worthy of + Belinda, I possess. I beseech you, sir,” continued he, addressing himself, + in a tremulous tone of contempt, to Mr. Hervey, “I beseech you, sir, to + leave me to my own feelings—and to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not yourself at this moment, and I cannot leave you to such + mistaken feelings,” replied Hervey: “command yourself for a moment, and + hear me; use your reason, and you will soon be convinced that I am your + friend.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend!” + </p> + <p> + “Your friend. For what purpose did I come here? to snatch this pistol from + your hand? If it were my interest, my wish, that you were out of the + world, why did I prevent you from destroying yourself? Do you think <i>that</i> + the action of an enemy? Use your reason.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” said Vincent, striking his forehead; “I know not what to think—I + am not master of myself. I conjure you, sir, for your own sake, to leave + me.” + </p> + <p> + “For my <i>own</i> sake!” repeated Hervey, disdainfully: “I am not + thinking of myself; nor can any thing you have said provoke me from my + purpose. My purpose is to save you from ruin, for the sake of a woman, + whom, though I am no longer your rival, I have loved longer, if not + better, than you have.” + </p> + <p> + There was something so open in Hervey’s countenance, such a strong + expression of truth in his manner, that it could not be resisted, and + Vincent, in an altered voice, exclaimed, “You acknowledge that you have + loved Belinda—and could you cease to love her? Impossible!—And, + loving her, must you not detest me?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Clarence, holding out his hand to him; “I wish to be your + friend. I have not the baseness to wish to deprive others of happiness + because I cannot enjoy it myself. In one word, to put you at ease with me + for ever, I have no pretensions, I can have none, to Miss Portman. I am + engaged to another woman—in a few days you will hear of my + marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent threw the pistol from him, and gave his hand to Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon what I said to you just now,” cried he; “I knew not what I said—I + spoke in the agony of despair: your purpose is most generous—but it + is in vain—you come too late—I am ruined, past all hope.” + </p> + <p> + He folded his arms, and his eyes reverted involuntarily to his pistols. + </p> + <p> + “The misery that you have this night experienced,” said Mr. Hervey, “was + necessary to the security of your future happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Happiness!” repeated Vincent; “happiness—there is no happiness left + for me. My doom is fixed—fixed by my own folly—my own rash, + headstrong folly. Madman that I was, what could tempt me to the + gaming-table? Oh! if I could recall but a few days, a few hours of my + existence! But remorse is vain—prudence comes too late. Do you + know,” said he, fixing his eyes upon Hervey, “do you know that I am a + beggar? that I have not a farthing left upon earth? Go to Belinda; tell + her so: tell her, that if she had ever the slightest regard for me, I + deserve it no longer. Tell her to forget, despise, detest me. Give her joy + that she has escaped having a gamester for a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Clarence, “I will, if you please, tell her what I believe + to be true, that the agony you have felt this night, the dear-bought + experience you have had, will be for ever a warning.” + </p> + <p> + “A warning!” interrupted Vincent: “Oh, that it could yet be useful to me!—But + I tell you it comes too late—nothing can save me.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> can,” said Mr. Hervey. “Swear to me, for Belinda’s sake—solemnly + swear to me, that you will never more trust your happiness and hers to the + hazard of a die—swear that you will never more, directly or + indirectly, play at any game of chance, and I will restore to you the + fortune that you have lost.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent stood as if suspended between ecstasy and despair: he dared + not trust his senses: with a fervent and solemn adjuration he made the vow + that was required of him; and Clarence then revealed to him the secret of + the E O table. + </p> + <p> + “When Mrs. Luttridge knows that I have it in my power to expose her to + public shame, she will instantly refund all that she has iniquitously won + from you. Even among gamblers she would be blasted for ever by this + discovery: she knows it, and if she dared to brave public opinion, we have + then a sure resource in the law—prosecute her. The laws of honour, + as well as the laws of the land, will support the prosecution. But she + will never let the affair go into a court of justice. I will see her + early, as early as I can to-morrow, and put you out of suspense.” + </p> + <p> + “Most generous of human beings!” exclaimed Vincent; “I cannot express to + you what I feel; but your own heart, your own approbation—” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, good night,” interrupted Clarence; “I see that I have made a + friend—I was determined that Belinda’s husband should be my friend—I + have succeeded beyond my hopes. And now I will <i>intrude</i> no longer,” + said he, as he closed the door after him. His sensations at this instant + were more delightful even than those of the man he had relieved from the + depth of despair. How wisely has Providence made the benevolent and + generous passions the most pleasurable! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. — A JEW. + </h2> + <p> + In the silence of the night, when the hurry of action was over, and the + enthusiasm of generosity began to subside, the words, which had escaped + from Mr. Vincent in the paroxysm of despair and rage—the words, “<i>Belinda + loves you</i>”—recurred to Clarence Hervey; and it required all his + power over himself to banish the sound from his ear, and the idea from his + mind. He endeavoured to persuade himself that these words were dictated + merely by sudden jealousy, and that there could be no real foundation for + the assertion: perhaps this belief was a necessary support to his + integrity. He reflected, that, at all events, his engagement with Virginia + could not be violated; his proffered services to Mr. Vincent could not be + withdrawn: he was firm and consistent. Before two o’clock the next day, + Vincent received from Clarence this short note: + </p> + <p> + “Enclosed is Mrs. Luttridge’s acknowledgment, that she has no claims upon + you, in consequence of what passed last night. I said nothing about the + money she had previously won, as I understand you have paid it. + </p> + <p> + “The lady fell into fits, but it would not do. The husband attempted to + bully me; I told him I should be at his service, after he had made the + whole affair public, by calling you out. + </p> + <p> + “I would have seen you myself this morning, but that I am engaged with + lawyers and marriage settlements. + </p> + <p> + “Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + “CLARENCE HERVEY.” + </p> + <p> + Overjoyed at the sight of Mrs. Luttridge’s acknowledgment, Vincent + repeated his vow never more to hazard himself in her dangerous society. He + was impatient to see Belinda; and, full of generous and grateful + sentiments, in his first moment of joy, he determined to conceal nothing + from her; to make at once the confession of his own imprudence and the + eulogium of Clarence Hervey’s generosity. He was just setting out for + Twickenham, when he was sent for by his uncle, Governor Montford, who had + business to settle with him, relative to his West India estates. He spent + the remainder of the morning with his uncle; and there he received a + charming letter from Belinda—that letter which she had written and + sent whilst Lady Delacour was reading Clarence Hervey’s packet. It would + have cured Vincent of jealousy, even if he had not, in the interim, seen + Mr. Hervey, and learnt from him the news of his approaching marriage. Miss + Portman, at the conclusion of her letter, informed him that Lady Delacour + purposed being in Berkeley-square the next day; that they were to spend a + week in town, on account of Mrs. Margaret Delacour, who had promised her + ladyship a visit; and to go to Twickenham would be a formidable journey to + an infirm old lady, who seldom stirred out of her house. + </p> + <p> + Whatever displeasure Lady Delacour felt towards her friend Belinda, on + account of her coldness to Mr. Hervey, and her steadiness to Mr. Vincent, + had by this time subsided. Angry people, who express their passion, as it + has been justly said, always speak worse than they think. This was usually + the case with her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + The morning after they arrived in town, she came into Belinda’s room, with + an air of more than usual sprightliness and satisfaction. “Great news!—Great + news!—Extraordinary news!—But it is very imprudent to excite + your expectations, my dear Belinda. Pray, did you hear a wonderful noise + in the square a little while ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I thought I heard a great bustle; but Marriott appeased my + curiosity, by saying that it was only a battle between two dogs.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well if this battle between two dogs do not end in a duel between + two men,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “This prospect of mischief seems to have put your ladyship in wonderfully + good spirits,” said Belinda, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “But what do you think I have heard of Mr. Vincent?” continued Lady + Delacour: “that Miss Annabella Luttridge is dying for love of him—or + of his fortune. Knowing, as I do, the vanity of mankind, I suppose that + your Mr. Vincent, all perfect as he is, was flattered by the little + coquette; and perhaps he condescends to repay her in the same coin. I take + it for granted—for I always fill up the gaps in a story my own way—I + take it for granted that Mr. Vincent got into some entanglement with her, + and that this has been the cause of the quarrel with the aunt. That there + has been a quarrel is certain, for your friend Juba told Marriott so. His + massa swore that he would never go to Mrs. Luttridge’s again; and this + morning he took the decisive measure of sending to request that his dog + might be returned. Juba went for his namesake. Miss Annabella Luttridge + was the person who delivered up the dog; and she desired the black to tell + his master, with her compliments, that Juba’s collar was rather too tight; + and she begged that he would not fail to take it off as soon as he could. + Perhaps, my dear, you are as simple as the poor negro, and suspect no <i>finesse</i> + in this message. Miss Luttridge, aware that the faithful fellow was too + much in your interests to be either persuaded or bribed to carry a + billet-doux from any other lady to his master, did not dare to trust him + upon this occasion; but she had the art to make him carry her letter + without his knowing it. <i>Colin maillard</i>, vulgarly called <i>blind + man’s buff</i>, was, some time ago, a favourite play amongst the Parisian + ladies: now <i>hide and seek</i> will be brought into fashion, I suppose, + by the fair Annabella. Judge of her talents for the game by this instance:—she + hid her billet-doux within the lining of Juba’s collar. The dog, + unconscious of his dignity as an ambassador, or rather as a chargé + d’affaires, set out on his way home. As he was crossing Berkeley-square he + was met by Sir Philip Baddely and his dog. The baronet’s insolent + favourite bit the black’s heels. Juba, the dog, resented the injury + immediately, and a furious combat ensued. In the height of the battle + Juba’s collar fell off. Sir Philip Baddely espied the paper that was sewed + to the lining, and seized upon it immediately: the negro caught hold of it + at the same instant: the baronet swore; the black struggled: the baronet + knocked him down. The great dog left his canine antagonist that moment, + flew at your baronet, and would have eaten him up at three mouthfuls, if + Sir Philip had not made good his retreat to Dangerfield’s circulating + library. The negro’s head was terribly cut by the sharp point of a stone, + and his ankle was sprained; but, as he has just told me, he did not feel + this till afterward. He started up, and pursued his master’s enemy. Sir + Philip was actually reading Miss Luttridge’s billet-doux aloud when the + black entered the library. He reclaimed his master’s property with great + intrepidity; and a gentleman who was present took his part immediately. + </p> + <p> + “In the mean time, Lord Delacour, who had been looking at the battle from + our breakfast-room window, determined to go over to Dangerfield’s, to see + what was the matter, and how all this would end. He entered the library + just as the gentleman who had volunteered in favour of poor Juba was + disputing with Sir Philip. The bleeding negro told my lord, in as plain + words as he could, the cause of the dispute; and Lord Delacour, who, to do + him justice, is a man of honour, joined instantly in his defence. The + baronet thought proper at length to submit; and he left the field of + battle, without having any thing to say for himself but—‘Damme!—very + extraordinary, damme!’—<i>or words to that effect</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Lord Delacour, besides being a man of honour, is also a man of + humanity. I know that I cannot oblige you more, my dear Belinda, than by + seasoning my discourse with a little conjugal flattery. My lord was + concerned to see the poor black writhing in pain; and with the assistance + of the gentleman who had joined in his defence, he brought Juba across the + square to our house. Guess for what:—to try upon the strained ankle + an infallible quack balsam recommended to him by the Dowager Lady Boucher. + I was in the hall when they brought the poor fellow in: Marriott was + called. ‘Mrs. Marriott,’ cried my lord, ‘pray let us have Lady Boucher’s + infallible balsam—this instant!’ Had you but seen the eagerness of + face, or heard the emphasis, with which he said ‘<i>infallible</i> balsam’—you + must let me laugh at the recollection. One human smile must pass, and be + forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + “The smile may be the more readily forgiven,” said Belinda, “since I am + sure you are conscious that it reflected almost as much upon yourself as + upon Lord Delacour.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; belief in a quack doctor is full as bad as belief in a quack + balsam, I allow. Your observation is so malicious, because so just, that + to punish you for it, I will not tell you the remainder of my story for a + week to come; and I assure you that the best part of it I have left + untold. To return to our friend Mr. Vincent:—could you but know what + reasons I have, at this instant, for wishing him in Jamaica, you would + acknowledge that I am truly candid in confessing that I believe my + suspicions about E O were unfounded; and I am truly generous in admitting + that you are right to treat him with justice.” + </p> + <p> + This last enigmatical sentence Belinda could not prevail upon Lady + Delacour to explain. + </p> + <p> + In the evening Mr. Vincent made his appearance. Lady Delacour immediately + attacked him with raillery, on the subject of the fair Annabella. He was + rejoiced to perceive that her suspicions took this turn, and that nothing + relative to the transaction in which Clarence Hervey had been engaged had + transpired. Vincent wavered in his resolution to confess the truth to + Belinda. Though he had determined upon this in the first moment of joyful + enthusiasm, yet the delay of four-and-twenty hours had made a material + change in his feelings; his most virtuous resolves were always rather the + effect of sudden impulse than of steady principle. But when the tide of + passion had swept away the landmarks, he had no method of ascertaining the + boundaries of right and wrong. Upon the present occasion his love for + Belinda confounded all his moral calculations: one moment, his feelings as + a man of honour forbade him to condescend to the meanness of + dissimulation; but the next instant his feelings as a lover prevailed; and + he satisfied his conscience by the idea that, as his vow must preclude all + danger of his return to the gaming-table in future, it would only be + creating an unnecessary alarm in Belinda’s mind to speak to her of his + past imprudence. His generosity at first revolted from the thought of + suppressing those praises of Clarence Hervey, which had been so well + deserved; but his jealousy returned, to combat his first virtuous impulse. + He considered that his own inferiority must by comparison appear more + striking to his mistress; and he sophistically persuaded himself that it + would be for her happiness to conceal the merits of a rival, to whom she + could never be united. In this vacillating state of mind he continued + during the greatest part of the evening. About half an hour before he took + his leave, Lady Delacour was called out of the room by Mrs. Marriott. Left + alone with Belinda, his embarrassment increased, and the unsuspecting + kindness of her manner was to him the most bitter reproach. He stood in + silent agony whilst in a playful tone she smiled and said, + </p> + <p> + “Where are your thoughts, Mr. Vincent? If I were of a jealous temper, I + should say with the fair Annabella—” + </p> + <p> + “You would say wrong, then,” replied Mr. Vincent, in a constrained voice. + He was upon the point of telling the truth; but to gain a reprieve of a + few minutes, he entered into a defence of his conduct towards Miss + Luttridge. + </p> + <p> + The sudden return of Lady Delacour relieved him from his embarrassment, + and they conversed only on general subjects during the remainder of the + evening; and he at last departed, secretly rejoicing that he was, as he + fancied, under the necessity of postponing his explanation; he even + thought of suppressing the history of his transaction with Mrs. Luttridge. + He knew that his secret was safe with Clarence Hervey: Mrs. Luttridge + would be silent for her own sake; and neither Lady Delacour nor Belinda + had any connexion with her society. + </p> + <p> + A few days afterward, Mr. Vincent went to Gray, the jeweller, for some + trinkets which he had bespoken. Lord Delacour was there, speaking about + the diamond ring, which Gray had promised to dispose of for him. Whilst + his lordship and Mr. Vincent were busy about their own affairs, Sir Philip + Baddely and Mr. Rochfort came into the shop. Sir Philip and Mr. Vincent + had never before met. Lord Delacour, to prevent him from getting into a + quarrel about a lady who was so little worth fighting for as Miss + Annabella Luttridge, had positively refused to tell Mr. Vincent what he + knew of the affair, or to let him know the name of the gentleman who was + concerned in it. + </p> + <p> + The shopman addressed Mr. Vincent by his name, and immediately Sir Philip + whispered to Rochfort, that Mr. Vincent was “<i>the master of the black</i>.” + Vincent, who unluckily overheard him, instantly asked Lord Delacour if + that was the gentleman who had behaved so ill to his servant? Lord + Delacour told him that it was now of no consequence to inquire. “If,” said + his lordship, “either of these gentlemen choose to accost you, I shall + think you do rightly to retort; but for Heaven’s sake do not begin the + attack!” + </p> + <p> + Vincent’s impetuosity was not to be restrained; he demanded from Sir + Philip, whether he was the person who had beaten his servant? Sir Philip + readily obliged him with an answer in the affirmative; and the consequence + was the loss of a finger to the baronet, and a wound in the side to Mr. + Vincent, which, though it did not endanger his life, yet confined him to + his room for several days. The impatience of his mind increased his fever, + and retarded his recovery. + </p> + <p> + When Belinda’s first alarm for Mr. Vincent’s safety was over, she + anxiously questioned Lord Delacour as to the particulars of all that had + passed between Mr. Vincent and Sir Philip, that she might judge of the + manner in which her lover had conducted himself. Lord Delacour, who was a + man of strict truth, was compelled to confess that Mr. Vincent had shown + more spirit than temper, and more courage than prudence. Lady Delacour + rejoiced to perceive that this account made Belinda uncommonly serious. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincent now thought himself sufficiently recovered to leave his room; + his physicians, indeed, would have kept him prisoner a few days longer, + but he was too impatient of restraint to listen to their counsels. + </p> + <p> + “Juba, tell the doctor, when he comes, that you could not keep me at home; + and that is all that is necessary to be said.” + </p> + <p> + He had now summoned courage to acknowledge to Belinda all that had + happened, and was proceeding, with difficulty, down stairs, when he was + suddenly struck by the sound of a voice which he little expected at this + moment; a voice he had formerly been accustomed to hear with pleasure, but + now it smote him to the heart:—it was the voice of Mr. Percival. For + the first time in his life, he wished to deny himself to his friend. The + recollection of the E O table, of Mrs. Luttridge, of Mr. Percival as his + guardian, and of all the advice he had heard from him as his friend, + rushed upon his mind at this instant; conscious and ashamed, he shrunk + back, precipitately returned to his own room, and threw himself into a + chair, breathless with agitation. He listened, expecting to hear Mr. + Percival coming up stairs, and endeavoured to compose himself, that he + might not betray, by his own agitation, all that he wished most anxiously + to conceal. After waiting for some time, he rang the bell, to make + inquiries. The waiter told him that a Mr. Percival had asked for him; but, + having been told by his black that he was just gone out, the gentleman + being, as he said, much hurried, had left a note; for an answer to which + he would call at eight o’clock in the evening. Vincent was glad of this + short reprieve. “Alas!” thought he, “how changed am I, when I fear to meet + my best friend! To what has this one fatal propensity reduced me!” + </p> + <p> + He was little aware of the new difficulties that awaited him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival’s note was as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “My dear <i>friend</i>! + </p> + <p> + “Am not I a happy man, to find a friend in my ci-devant ward? But I have + no time for sentiment; nor does it become the character, in which I am now + writing to you—that of a DUN. You are so rich, and so prudent, that + the word in capital letters cannot frighten you. Lady Anne’s cousin, poor + Mr. Carysfort, is dead. I am guardian to his boys; they are but ill + provided for. I have fortunately obtained a partnership in a good house + for the second son. Ten thousand pounds are wanting to establish him—we + cannot raise the money amongst us, without dunning poor Mr. Vincent. + Enclosed is your bond for the purchase-money of the little estate you + bought from me last summer. I know that you have double the sum we want in + ready money—so I make no ceremony. Let me have the ten thousand this + evening, if you can, as I wish to leave town as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + “Yours most sincerely, + </p> + <p> + “HENRY PERCIVAL.” + </p> + <p> + Now Mr. Vincent had lost, and had actually paid to Mrs. Luttridge, the + ready money which had been destined to discharge his debt to Mr. Percival: + he expected fresh remittances from the West Indies in the course of a few + weeks; but, in the mean time, he must raise this money immediately: this + he could only do by having recourse to Jews—a desperate expedient. + The Jew, to whom he applied, no sooner discovered that Mr. Vincent was + under a necessity of having this sum before eight o’clock in the evening + than he became exorbitant in his demands; and the more impatient this + unfortunate young man became, the more difficulties he raised. At last, a + bargain was concluded between them, in which Vincent knew that he was + grossly imposed upon; but to this he submitted, for he had no alternative. + The Jew promised to bring him ten thousand pounds at five o’clock in the + evening, but it was half after seven before he made his appearance; and + then he was so dilatory and circumspect, in reading over and signing the + bonds, and in completing the formalities of the transaction, that before + the money was actually in Vincent’s possession, one of the waiters of the + hotel knocked at the door to let him know that Mr. Percival was coming up + stairs. Vincent hurried the Jew into an adjoining apartment, and bid him + wait there, till he should come to finish the business. Though totally + unsuspicious, Mr. Percival could not help being struck with the + perturbation in which he found his young friend. Vincent immediately began + to talk of the duel, and his friend was led to conclude that his anxiety + arose from this affair. He endeavoured to put him at ease by changing the + conversation. He spoke of the business which brought him to town, and of + the young man whom he was going to place with a banker. “I hope,” said he, + observing that Vincent grew more embarrassed, “that my <i>dunning</i> you + for this money is not really inconvenient.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least—not in the least. I have the money ready—in + a few moments—if you’ll be so good as to wait here—I have the + money ready in the next room.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant a loud noise was heard—the raised voices of two + people quarrelling. It was Juba, the black, and Solomon, the Jew. Mr. + Vincent had sent Juba out of the way, on some errand, whilst he had been + transacting his affairs with the Jew; but the black, having executed the + commission on which he had been sent, returned, and went into his master’s + bedchamber, to read at his leisure a letter which he had just received + from his wife. He did not at first see the Jew, and he was spelling out + the words of his wife’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Juba, + </p> + <p> + “I take this op-por-tu—” —<i>nity</i> he would have said; but + the Jew, who had held his breath in to avoid discovery, till he could hold + it no longer, now drew it so loud, that Juba started, looked round, and + saw the feet of a man, which appeared beneath the bottom of the window + curtain. Where fears of supernatural appearances were out of the question, + our negro was a man of courage; he had no doubt that the man who was + concealed behind the curtain was a robber, but the idea of a robber did + not unnerve him like that of an Obeah woman. With presence of mind worthy + of a greater danger, Juba took down his master’s pistol, which hung over + the chimney-piece, and marching deliberately up to the enemy, he seized + the Jew by the throat, exclaiming— + </p> + <p> + “You rob my massa?—You dead man, if you rob my massa.” + </p> + <p> + Terrified at the sight of the pistol, the Jew instantly explained who he + was, and producing his large purse, assured Juba that he was come to lend + money, and not to take it from his master; but this appeared highly + improbable to Juba, who believed his master to be the richest man in the + world; besides, the Jew’s language was scarcely intelligible to him, and + he saw secret terror in Solomon’s countenance. Solomon had an antipathy to + the sight of a black, and he shrunk from the negro with strong signs of + aversion. Juba would not relinquish his hold; each went on talking in his + own angry gibberish as loud as he could, till at last the negro fairly + dragged the Jew into the presence of his master and Mr. Percival. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe Mr. Vincent’s confusion, or Mr. Percival’s + astonishment. The Jew’s explanation was perfectly intelligible to him; he + saw at once all the truth. Vincent, overwhelmed with shame, stood the + picture of despair, incapable of uttering a single syllable. + </p> + <p> + “There is no necessity to borrow this money on my account,” said Mr. + Percival, calmly; “and if there were, we could probably have it on more + reasonable terms than this gentleman proposes.” + </p> + <p> + “I care not on what terms I have it—I care not what becomes of me—I + am undone!” cried Vincent. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival coolly dismissed the Jew, made a sign to Juba to leave the + room, and then, addressing himself to Vincent, said, “I can borrow the + money that I want elsewhere. Fear no reproaches from me—I foresaw + all this—you have lost this sum at play: it is well that it was not + your whole fortune. I have only one question to ask you, on which depends + my esteem—have you informed Miss Portman of this affair?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not yet told her, but I was actually half down stairs in my way to + tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mr. Vincent, you are still my friend. I know the difficulty of such + an avowal—but it is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot you, dear Mr. Percival, save me the intolerable shame of + confessing my own folly? Spare me this mortification! Be yourself the + bearer of this intelligence, and the mediator in my favour.” + </p> + <p> + “I will with pleasure,” said Mr. Percival; “I will go this instant: but I + cannot say that I have any hope of persuading Belinda to believe in your + being irrevocably reclaimed from the charms of play.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my excellent friend, she may rely upon me: I feel such horror at + the past, such heartfelt resolution against all future temptation, that + you may pledge yourself for my total reformation.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival promised that he would exert all his influence, except by + pledging his own honour; to this he could not consent. “If I have any good + news for you, I will return as soon as possible; but I will not be the + bearer of any painful intelligence,” said he; and he departed, leaving Mr. + Vincent in a state of anxiety, which, to his temper, was a punishment + sufficient for almost any imprudence he could have committed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival returned no more that night. The next morning Mr. Vincent + received the following letter from Belinda. He guessed his fate: he had + scarcely power to read the words. + </p> + <p> + “I promised you that, whenever my own mind should be decided, I would not + hold yours in suspense; yet at this moment I find it difficult to keep my + word. + </p> + <p> + “Instead of lamenting, as you have often done, that my esteem for your + many excellent qualities never rose beyond the bounds of friendship, we + have now reason to rejoice at this, since it will save us much useless + pain. It spares me the difficulty of conquering a passion that might be + fatal to my happiness; and it will diminish the regret which you may feel + at our separation. I am now obliged to say, that circumstances have made + me certain we could not add to our mutual felicity by any nearer + connexion. + </p> + <p> + “The hope of enjoying domestic happiness with a person whose manners, + temper, and tastes suited my own, inclined me to listen to your addresses. + But this happiness I could never enjoy with one who has any propensity to + the love of play. + </p> + <p> + “For my own sake, as well as for yours, I rejoice that your fortune has + not been materially injured; as this relieves me from the fear that my + present conduct should be imputed to interested motives. Indeed, such is + the generosity of your own temper, that in any situation I should scarcely + have reason to apprehend from you such a suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “The absolute impossibility of my forming at present a connexion with + another, will prevent you from imagining that I am secretly influenced by + sentiments different from those which I avow; nor can any weak doubts on + this subject expose me to my own reproaches. + </p> + <p> + “You perceive, sir, that I am not willing utterly to lose your esteem, + even when I renounce, in the most unequivocal manner, all claim upon your + affections. If any thing should appear to you harsh in this letter, I beg + you to impute it to the real cause—my desire to spare you all + painful suspense, by convincing you at once that my determination is + irrevocable. With sincere wishes for your happiness, I bid you farewell. + </p> + <p> + “BELINDA PORTMAN.” + </p> + <p> + A few hours after Mr. Vincent had read this letter he threw himself into a + post-chaise, and set out for Germany. He saw that all hopes of being + united to Belinda were over, and he hurried as far from her as possible. + Her letter rather soothed than irritated his temper; her praises of his + generosity were highly gratifying, and they had so powerful an effect upon + his mind, that he was determined to prove that they were deserved. His + conscience reproached him with not having made sufficiently honourable + mention of Clarence Hervey’s conduct, on the night when he was on the + point of destroying himself. Before he left London he wrote a full account + of this whole transaction, to be given to Miss Portman after his + departure. + </p> + <p> + Belinda was deeply touched by this proof of his generosity. His letter—his + farewell letter—she could not read without great emotion. It was + written with true feeling, but in a manly style, without one word of vain + lamentation. + </p> + <p> + “What a pity,” thought Belinda, “that with so many good and great + qualities, I should be forced to bid him adieu for ever!” + </p> + <p> + Though she strongly felt the pain of this separation, yet she could not + recede from her decision: nothing could tempt her to connect herself with + a man who had the fatal taste for play. Even Mr. Percival, much as he + loved his ward, much as he wished for his union with Belinda, dared not + pledge his honour for Mr. Vincent on this point. + </p> + <p> + Lady Anne Percival, in a very kind and sensible letter, expressed the + highest approbation of Belinda’s conduct; and the most sincere hope that + Belinda would still continue to think of her with affection and esteem, + though she had been so rash in her advice, and though her friendship had + been apparently so selfish. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. — NEWS. + </h2> + <p> + “Do not expect that I should pretend to be sorry for Mr. Vincent,” said + Lady Delacour. “Let him be as generous and as penitent as he pleases, I am + heartily glad that he is on his way to Germany. I dare say he will find in + the upper or <i>lower</i> circles of the empire some heroine in the + Kotzebue taste, who will alternately make him miserable till he is happy, + and happy till he is miserable. He is one of those men who require great + emotions: fine lovers these make for stage effect—but the worst + husbands in the world! + </p> + <p> + “I hope, Belinda, you give me credit, for having judged better of Mr. + Vincent than Lady Anne Percival did?” + </p> + <p> + “For having judged worse of him, you mean? Lady Anne always judges <i>as + well</i> as possible of every body.” + </p> + <p> + “I will allow you to play upon words in a friend’s defence, but do not be + alarmed for the reputation of Lady Anne’s judgment. If it will be any + satisfaction to you, I can with thorough sincerity assure you that I never + liked her so well in my life as since I have detected her in a mistake. It + saves her, in my imagination, from the odium of being a perfect + character.” + </p> + <p> + “And there was something so handsome in her manner of writing to me, when + she found out her error,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Very true, and my friend Mr. Percival behaved handsomely. Where + friendships clash, it is not every man who has clearness of head + sufficient to know his duty to his neighbour. Mr. Percival said no more + than just the thing he ought, for his ward. You have reason to be obliged + to him: and as we are returning thanks to all persons concerned in our + deliverance from this imminent danger, Juba, the dog, and Juba, the black, + and Solomon, the Jew, ought to come in for their share; for without that + wrestling match of theirs, the truth might never have been dragged to + light, and Mr. Vincent would have been in due course of time your lord and + master. But the danger is over; you need not look so terrified: do not be + like the man who dropped down dead with terror, when he was shown by + daylight the broken bridge which he had galloped over in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour was in such high spirits that, without regard to connexion, + she ran on from one subject to another. + </p> + <p> + “You have proved to me, my dear,” said she, “that you are not a girl to + marry, because the day was fixed, or because <i>things had gone so far</i>. + I give you infinite credit for your <i>civil courage</i>, as Dr. X—— + calls it: military courage, as he said to me yesterday—military + courage, that seeks the bubble reputation even in the cannon’s mouth, may + be had for sixpence a day. But civil courage, such as enabled the Princess + Parizade, in the Arabian Tales, to go straight up the hill to her object, + though the magical multitude of advising and abusive voices continually + called to her to turn back, is one of the rarest qualities in man or + woman, and not to be had for love, money, or admiration.” + </p> + <p> + “You place admiration not only above money, but above love, in your + climax, I perceive,” said Belinda, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I will give you leave to be as philosophically sarcastic as you please, + my dear, if you will only smile, and if you will not look as pale as + Seneca’s Paulina, whose story we heard—from whom?” + </p> + <p> + “From Mr. Hervey, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “His name was ready upon your lips; I hope he was not far from your + thoughts?” + </p> + <p> + “No one could be farther from my thoughts,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Well, very likely—I believe it, because you say it; and because it + is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Rally me as much as you please, my dear Lady Delacour, I assure you that + I speak the simple truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot suspect you of affectation, my dear. Therefore honestly tell me, + if Clarence Hervey were at your feet this instant, would you spurn him + from you?” + </p> + <p> + “Spurn him! no—I would neither spurn him, nor <i>motion him from me</i>; + but without using any of the terms in the heroine’s dictionary——” + </p> + <p> + “You would refuse him?” interrupted Lady Delacour, with a look of + indignation—“you would refuse him?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say so, I <i>believe</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “You would accept him?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say so, <i>I am sure</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you would tell him that you were not <i>accustomed</i> to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly in those words, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we shall not quarrel about words,” said Lady Delacour; “I only beg + you to remember your own principles; and if ever you are put to the trial, + be consistent. The first thing in a philosopher is to be consistent.” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately, for the credit of my philosophy, there is no immediate + danger of its being put to the test.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, you surely mean; unless you are afraid that it might not + stand the test. But I was going, when I spoke of consistency, to remind + you that all your own and Mr. Percival’s arguments about <i>first loves</i> + may now, with equal propriety, be turned against you.” + </p> + <p> + “How <i>against</i> me?” + </p> + <p> + “They are evidently as applicable to second as to first loves, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they are,” said Belinda; “but I really and truly am not inclined + to think of love at present; particularly as there is no necessity that I + should.” + </p> + <p> + Belinda took up a book, and Lady Delacour for one half hour abstained from + any farther raillery. But longer than half an hour she could not be silent + on the subject uppermost in her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “If Clarence Hervey,” cried she, “were not the most honourable of + blockheads, he might be the most happy of men. This Virginia!—oh, + how I hate her!—I am sure poor Clarence cannot love her.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you hate her—or because you hate her without having ever + seen her?” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know what she must be,” replied Lady Delacour: “a soft, sighing, + dying damsel, who puts bullfinches into her bosom. Smile, smile, my dear; + you cannot help it; in spite of all your generosity, I know you must think + as I do, and wish as I do, that she were at the bottom of the Black Sea + this instant.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour stood for some minutes musing, and then exclaimed, “I will + move heaven and earth to break off this absurd match.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! my dear Lady Delacour, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Mean! my dear—I mean what I say, which very few people do: no + wonder I should surprise you.” + </p> + <p> + “I conjure you,” cried Belinda, “if you have the least regard for my + honour and happiness—” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the least, but the greatest; and depend upon it, my dear, I + will do nothing that shall injure that <i>dignity of mind and delicacy of + character</i>, which I admire and love, as much as Clarence Hervey did, + and does. Trust to me: not Lady Anne Percival herself can be more delicate + in her notions of propriety than I am for my friends, and, since my + reformation, I hope I may add, for myself. Fear nothing.” As she finished + these words, she rang for her carriage. “I don’t ask you to go out with + me, my dear Belinda; I give you leave to sit in this armchair till I come + back again, with your feet upon the fender, a book in your hand, and this + little table beside you, like Lady S.‘s picture of Comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour spent the rest of the morning abroad; and when she returned + home, she gave no account of what she had been doing, or of what or whom + she had seen. This was so unusual, that Belinda could not avoid taking + notice of it. Notwithstanding her ladyship’s eulogium upon her own + delicate sense of propriety, Miss Portman could not confide, with perfect + resignation, in her prudence. + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship reproached me once,” said she, in a playful tone, “for my + provoking want of curiosity: you have completely cured me of this defect, + for never was woman more curious than I am, at this instant, to know the + secret scheme that you have in agitation.” + </p> + <p> + “Have patience a little longer, and the mystery will be unravelled. In the + mean time, trust that every thing I do is for the best. However, as you + have behaved pretty well, I will give you one leading hint, when you have + explained to me what you meant by saying that your heart is not at present + inclined to love. Pray, have you quarrelled with love for ever?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I can exist without it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you a heart?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + “And it can exist without love? I now understand what was once said to me + by a foolish lordling:—’ Of what use is the sun to the dial?’” <a + href="#linknote-10" name="linknoteref-10" id="linknoteref-10"><small>10</small></a> + </p> + <p> + Company came in, and relieved Belinda from any further raillery. Lady + Boucher and Mrs. Margaret Delacour were, amongst a large party, to dine at + Lady Delacour’s. At dinner, the dowager seized the first auspicious moment + of silence to announce a piece of intelligence, which she flattered + herself would fix the eyes of all the world upon her. + </p> + <p> + “So Mr. Clarence Hervey is married at last!” + </p> + <p> + “Married!” cried Lady Delacour: she had sufficient presence of mind not to + look directly at Belinda; but she fixed the dowager’s eyes, by repeating, + “Married! Are you sure of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Positive—positive! He was privately married yesterday at his aunt, + Lady Almeria’s apartments, at Windsor, to Miss Hartley. I told you it was + to be, and now it is over; and a very extraordinary match Mr. Hervey has + made of it, after all. Think of his going at last, and marrying a girl who + has been his mistress for years! Nobody will visit her, to be sure. Lady + Almeria is excessively distressed; she did all she could to prevail on her + brother, the bishop, to marry his nephew, but he very properly refused, + giving it as a reason, that the girl’s character was too well known.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought the bishop was at Spa,” interposed a gentleman, whilst the + dowager drew breath. + </p> + <p> + “O dear, no, sir; you have been misinformed,” resumed she. “The bishop has + been returned from Spa this great while, and he has refused to see his + nephew, to my certain knowledge. After all, I cannot but pity poor + Clarence for being driven into this match. Mr. Hartley has a prodigious + fine fortune, to be sure, and he hurried things forward at an amazing + rate, to patch up his daughter’s reputation. He said, as I am credibly + informed, yesterday morning, that if Clarence did not marry the girl + before night, he would carry her and her fortune off the next day to the + West Indies. Now the fortune was certainly an object.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lady Boucher,” interrupted Lord Delacour, “you must be + misinformed in that particular: fortune is no object to Clarence Hervey; + he is too generous a fellow to marry for fortune. What do you think—what + do you say, Lady Delacour?” + </p> + <p> + “I say, and think, and feel, as you do, my lord,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “You say, and think, and feel the same as my lord.—Very + extraordinary indeed!” said the dowager. “Then if it were not for the sake + of the fortune, pray why did Mr. Hervey marry at all? Can any body guess?” + </p> + <p> + “I should guess because he was in love,” said Lord Delacour “for I + remember that was the reason I married myself.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear good lord—but when I tell you the girl had been his + mistress, till he was tired of her—” + </p> + <p> + “My Lady Boucher,” said Mrs. Margaret Delacour, who had hitherto listened + in silence, “my Lady Boucher, you have been misinformed; Miss Hartley + never was Clarence Hervey’s mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m mighty glad you think so, Mrs. Delacour; but I assure you nobody else + is so <i>charitable</i>. Those who live in the world hear a great deal + more than those who live out of the world. I can promise you, nobody will + visit the bride, and that is the thing by which we are to judge.” + </p> + <p> + Then the dowager and the rest of the company continued to descant upon the + folly of the match. Those who wished to pay their court to Lady Delacour + were the loudest in their astonishment at his throwing himself away in + this manner. Her ladyship smiled, and kept them in play by her address, on + purpose to withdraw all eyes from Miss Portman, whilst, from time to time, + she stole a glance at Belinda, to observe how she was affected by what + passed: she was provoked by Belinda’s self-possession. At last, when it + had been settled that all the Herveys were <i>odd</i>, but that this match + of Clarence’s was the <i>oddest</i> of all the odd things that any of the + family had done for many generations, Mrs. Delacour calmly said, “Are you + sure, Lady Boucher, that Mr. Hervey is married?” + </p> + <p> + “Positive! as I said before, positive! Madam, my woman had it from Lady + Newland’s Swiss, who had it from Lady Singleton’s Frenchwoman, who had it + from Longueville, the hairdresser, who had it from Lady Almeria’s own + woman, who was present at the ceremony, and must know if any body does.” + </p> + <p> + “The report has come to us zigzag as quick as lightning, yet it does not + flash conviction upon me,” said Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Nor upon me,” said Mrs. Delacour, “for this simple reason. I have seen + Miss Hartley within these two hours, and I had it from herself that she is + not married.” + </p> + <p> + “Not married!” cried the dowager with terror. + </p> + <p> + “I rather think not; she is now with her father, at my house at dinner, I + believe, and Clarence Hervey is at Lady Almeria’s, at Windsor: her + ladyship is confined by a fit of the gout, and sent for her nephew + yesterday. If people who live out of the world hear less, they sometimes + hear more correctly than those who live in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray when does Mr. Hervey return from Windsor?” said the incorrigible + dowager. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, madam,” said Mrs. Delacour. “As your ladyship is going to + several parties this evening, I think it but <i>charitable</i> to set you + right in these particulars, and I hope you will be so <i>charitable</i> as + to contradict the report of Miss Hartley’s having been Clarence’s + mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as to that, if the young lady is not married, we must presume there + are good reasons for it,” said the dowager. “Pray, on which side was the + match broken off?” + </p> + <p> + “On neither side,” answered Mrs. Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “The thing goes on then; and what day is the marriage to take place?” said + Lady Boucher. + </p> + <p> + “On Monday—or Tuesday—or Wednesday—or Thursday—or + Friday—or Saturday—-or Sunday, I believe,” replied Mrs. + Delacour, who had the prudent art of giving answers effectually baffling + to the curiosity of gossips. + </p> + <p> + The dowager consoled herself in her utmost need with a full plate of + brandy peaches, and spoke not a word more during the second course. When + the ladies retired after the dessert, she again commenced hostilities: she + dared not come to open war with Mrs. Delacour; but in a bye-battle, in a + corner, she carried every thing before her; and she triumphantly + whispered, “We shall see, ma’am, that it will turn out, as I told you, + that Miss Rachel, or Virginia, or whatever he pleases to call her, has + been what I said; and, as I said, nobody will visit her, not a soul: fifty + people I can count who have declared to me they’ve made up their minds; + and my own’s made up, I candidly confess; and Lady Delacour, I am sure by + her silence and looks, is of my way of thinking, and has no opinion of the + young lady: as to Miss Portman, she is, poor thing, of course, so wrapped + up in her own affairs, no wonder she says nothing. That was a sad business + of Mr. Vincent’s! I am surprised to see her look even so well as she does + after it. Mr. Percival, I am told,” said the well-informed dowager, + lowering her voice so much that the lovers of scandal were obliged to + close their heads round her—“Mr. Percival, I am informed, refused + his consent to his ward (who is not of age) on account of an anonymous + letter, and it is supposed Mr. Vincent desired it for an excuse to get off + handsomely. Fighting that duel about her with Sir Philip Baddely settled + his love—so he is gone to Germany, and she is left to wear the + willow, which, you see, becomes her as well as everything else. Did she + eat any dinner, ma’am? you sat next her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; more than I did, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Very extraordinary! Then perhaps Sir Philip Baddely’s <i>on</i> again—Lord + bless me, what a match would that be for her! Why, Mrs. Stanhope might + then, indeed, deserve to be called the match-maker general. The seventh of + her nieces this. But look, there’s Mrs. Delacour leading Miss Portman off + into the trictrac cabinet, with a face full of business—her hand in + hers—Lord, I did not know they were on that footing! I wonder what’s + going forward. Suppose old Hartley was to propose for Miss Portman—there + would be a dénouement! and cut his daughter off with a shilling! Nothing’s + impossible, you know. Did he ever see Miss Portman? I must go and find + out, positively.” + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, Mrs. Delacour, unconscious of the curiosity she had + excited, was speaking to Belinda in the trictrac cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Portman,” said she, “you have a great deal of good-nature, + else I should not venture to apply to you on the present occasion. Will + you oblige me, and serve a friend of mine—a gentleman who, as I once + imagined, was an admirer of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do any thing in my power to oblige any friend of yours, madam,” + said Belinda; “but of whom are you speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “Of Mr. Hervey, my dear young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how I can serve him as a friend,” said Belinda, colouring deeply. + </p> + <p> + “That you shall know immediately,” said Mrs. Delacour, rummaging and + rustling for a considerable time amongst a heap of letters, which she had + pulled out of the largest pockets that ever woman wore, even in the last + century. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, here it is,” continued she, opening and looking into them. “May I + trouble you just to look over this letter? It is from poor Mr. Hartley; he + is, as you will see, excessively fond of his daughter, whom he has so + fortunately discovered after his long search: he is dreadfully nervous, + and has been terribly annoyed by these idle gossiping stories. You find, + by what Lady Boucher said at dinner, that they have settled it amongst + them that Virginia is not a fit person to be visited; that she has been + Clarence’s mistress instead of his pupil. Mr. Hartley, you see by this + letter, is almost out of his senses with the apprehension that his + daughter’s reputation is ruined. I sent my carriage to Twickenham, the + moment I received this letter, for the poor girl and her gouvernante. They + came to me this morning; but what can I do? I am only one old woman + against a confederacy of veteran gossips; but if I could gain you and Lady + Delacour for my allies, I should fear no adversaries. Virginia is to stay + with me for some days; and Lady Delacour, I see, has a great mind to come + to see her; but she does not like to come without you, and she says that + she does not like to ask you to accompany her. I don’t understand her + delicacy about the matter—I have none; believing, as I do, that + there is no foundation whatever for these malicious reports, which, <i>entre + nous</i>, originated, I fancy, with Mrs. Marriott. Now, will you oblige + me? If you and Lady Delacour will come and see Virginia to-morrow, all the + world would follow your example the next day. It’s often cowardice that + makes people ill-natured: have you the courage, my good Miss Portman, to + be the first to do a benevolent action? I do assure you,” continued Mrs. + Delacour with great earnestness, “I do assure you I would as soon put my + hand into that fire, this moment, as ask you to do any thing that I + thought improper. But forgive me for pressing this point; I am anxious to + have your suffrage in her favour: Miss Belinda Portman’s character for + prudence and propriety stands so high, and is fixed so firmly, that she + may venture to let us cling to it; and I am as well convinced of the poor + girl’s innocence as I am of yours; and when you see her, you will be of my + opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, Mrs. Delacour,” said Belinda, “that you have wasted a great + deal of eloquence upon this occasion, for—” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for it,” interrupted Mrs. Delacour, rising from her seat, with + a look of some displeasure. “I meant not to distress or offend you, Miss + Portman, by <i>my eloquence</i>: I am only concerned that I should have so + far mistaken your character as to expose myself to this refusal.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given no refusal,” said Belinda, mildly: “you did not let me + finish my sentence.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon; that is a foolish old trick of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Delacour, I was going to say, has wasted a great deal of eloquence: + for I am entirely of her opinion, and I shall, with the greatest + readiness, comply with her request.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a charming, generous girl, and I am a passionate old fool—thank + you a thousand times.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not at all obliged to me,” said Belinda. “When I first heard this + story, I believed it, as Lady Boucher now does—but I have had reason + to alter my opinion, and perhaps the same means of information would have + changed hers; once convinced, it is impossible to relapse into suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible to <i>you</i>: the most truly virtuous women are always the + least suspicious and uncharitable in their opinion of their own sex. Lady + Anne Percival inspired me with this belief, and Miss Portman confirms it. + I admire your courage in daring to come forward in the defence of + innocence. I am very rude, alas! for praising you so much.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not a right to your admiration,” said Belinda; “for I must + honestly confess to you that I should not have this courage if there were + any danger in the case. I do not think that in doubtful cases it is the + business of a young woman to hazard her own reputation by an attempt to + preserve another’s: I do not imagine, at least, that I am of sufficient + consequence in the world for this purpose; therefore I should never + attempt it. It is the duty of such women as Mrs. Delacour, whose + reputation is beyond the power of scandal, to come forward in the defence + of injured innocence; but this would not be courage in Belinda Portman, it + would be presumption and temerity.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you will not let me admire your courage, or your generosity, or + your prudence,” said Mrs. Delacour laughing, “you must positively let me + admire <i>you</i> altogether, and love you too, for I cannot help it. + Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + After the company was gone, Lady Delacour was much surprised by the + earnestness with which Belinda pressed the request that they might the + next morning pay a visit to Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Lady Delacour, “to tell you the truth, I am full of + curiosity, and excessively anxious to go. I hesitated merely on your + account: I fancied that you would not like the visit, and that if I went + without you, it might be taken notice of; but I am delighted to find that + you will come with me: I can only say that you have more generosity than I + should have in the same situation.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning they went together to Mrs. Delacour’s. In their way + thither, Belinda, to divert her own thoughts, and to rouse Lady Delacour + from the profound and unnatural silence into which she had fallen, + petitioned her to finish the history of Sir Philip Baddely, the dog, Miss + Annabella Luttridge, and her billet-doux. + </p> + <p> + “For some of my high crimes and misdemeanours, you vowed that you would + not tell me the remainder of the story till the whole week had elapsed; + now will you satisfy my curiosity? You recollect that you left off just + where you said that you were come to the best part of the story.” + </p> + <p> + “Was I? did I?—Very true, we shall have time enough to finish it + by-and-by, my dear,” said Lady Delacour; “at present my poor head is + running upon something else, and I have left off being an accomplished + actress, or I could talk of one subject and think of another as well as + the best of you.—Stop the carriage, my dear; I am afraid they have + forgot my orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you carry what I desired this morning to Mrs. Delacour?” said her + ladyship to one of the footmen. + </p> + <p> + “I did, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you say from me, that it was not to be opened till I came?’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you leave it?” + </p> + <p> + “In Mrs. Delacour’s dressing-room, my lady:—she desired me to take + it up there, and she locked the door, and said no one should go in till + you came.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—go on. Belinda, my dear, I hope that I have worked up + your curiosity to the highest pitch.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. — THE DENOUEMENT. + </h2> + <p> + Curiosity was not, at this instant, the strongest passion in Belinda’s + mind. When the carriage stopped at Mrs. Delacour’s door, her heart almost + ceased to beat; but she summoned resolution to go through, with firmness + and dignity, the task she had undertaken. + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey was not in the room when they entered, nor was Virginia: + Mrs. Ormond said that she had been extremely feverish during the night, + and that she had advised her not to get up till late in the day. But Mrs. + Delacour immediately went for her, and in a few minutes she made her + appearance. + </p> + <p> + Belinda and Lady Delacour exchanged a glance of surprise and admiration. + There was a grace and simplicity in her manner, joined to an air of + naïveté, that made an irresistible impression in her favour. Lady + Delacour, however, after the first surprise was over, seemed to relapse + into her former opinion; and the piercing looks which her ladyship from + time to time cast upon Virginia as she spoke, produced their effect. She + was abashed and silent. Belinda endeavoured to engage her in conversation, + and to her she talked with ease and even with freedom. Virginia examined + Miss Portman’s countenance with a species of artless curiosity and + interest, that was not restrained by factitious politeness. This + examination was not peculiarly agreeable to Belinda, yet it was made with + so much apparent simplicity, that she could not be displeased. + </p> + <p> + On the first pause in the conversation, Mrs. Delacour said, “Pray, my dear + Lady Delacour, what is this wonderful present that you sent to me this + morning, which you desired that no one should see till you came?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot satisfy your curiosity yet,” replied Lady Delacour. “I must wait + till Clarence Hervey comes, for the present is intended for him.” + </p> + <p> + An air of solemn mystery in her ladyship’s manner, as she pronounced these + words, excited general attention. There was a dead silence, which lasted + several minutes: some feeble attempts were then made by each of the + company to start a fresh subject of conversation; but it would not do—all + relapsed into the silence of expectation. At last Clarence Hervey arrived. + Belinda rejoiced that the universal curiosity which Lady Delacour had + inspired prevented any one’s observing the sudden change in Mr. Hervey’s + countenance when he beheld her. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty set of curious children you are!” cried Lady Delacour, laughing. + “Do you know, Clarence, that they are all dying with impatience to see <i>un + gage d’amitié</i> that I have brought for you; and the reason that they + are so curious is simply because I had the address to say, in a solemn + voice, ‘I cannot satisfy your curiosity till Clarence Hervey arrives.’ Now + follow me, my friends; and if you be disappointed, lay the blame, not on + me, but on your own imaginations.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way to Mrs. Delacour’s dressing-room, and all the company + followed. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what do you expect to see?” said she, putting the key into the door. + </p> + <p> + After waiting some moments for a reply, but in vain, she threw open the + door, and they saw, hung before the wall opposite to them, a green + curtain. + </p> + <p> + “I thought, my dear Clarence,” resumed Lady Delacour, “that no present + could be more agreeable to you than a companion for your Virginia. Does + this figure,” continued she, drawing back the curtain, “does this figure + give you the idea of Paul?” + </p> + <p> + “Paul!” said Clarence; “it is a naval officer in full uniform: what can + your ladyship mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia perhaps will know what I mean, if you will only stand out of her + way, and let her see the picture.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Clarence made way for Virginia: she turned her eyes upon + the picture, uttered a piercing shriek, and fell senseless upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Take it coolly,” said Lady Delacour, “and she will come to her senses + presently. Young ladies must shriek and faint upon certain occasions; but + men (looking at Clarence Hervey) need not always be dupes. This is only a + <i>scene</i>; consider it as such, and admire the actress as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Actress! Oh, she is no actress!” cried Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey raised her from the ground, and Belinda sprinkled water + over her face. + </p> + <p> + “She’s dead!—she’s dead! Oh, my sweet child! she’s dead!” exclaimed + Mrs. Ormond, trembling so violently, that she could not sustain Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “She is no actress, indeed,” said Clarence Hervey: “her pulse is gone!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour looked at Virginia’s pale lips, touched her cold hands, and + with a look of horror cried out, “Good Heavens! what have I done? What + shall we do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Give her air—give her air, air, air!” cried Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “You keep the air from her, Mrs. Ormond,” said Mrs. Delacour. “Let us + leave her to Miss Portman; she has more presence of mind than any of us.” + And as she spoke she forced Mrs. Ormond away with her out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “If Mr. Hartley should come, keep him with you, Mrs. Delacour,” said + Clarence Hervey. “Is her pulse quite gone?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it beats stronger and stronger,” said Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “Her colour is returning,” said Lady Delacour. “There! raise her a little, + dear Belinda; she is coming to herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Had not you better draw the curtain again before that picture,” said Miss + Portman, “lest she should see it the moment she opens her eyes?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia came slowly to her recollection, saw Lady Delacour drawing the + curtain before the picture, then fixed her eyes upon Clarence Hervey, + without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + “Are you better now?” said he, in a gentle tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not speak—do not look so kindly!” cried Virginia. “I am well—quite + well—better than I deserve to be;” and she pressed Belinda’s hand, + as if to thank her for assisting and supporting her. + </p> + <p> + “We may safely leave her now,” whispered Belinda to Lady Delacour; “we are + strangers, and our presence only distresses her.” + </p> + <p> + They withdrew. But the moment Virginia found herself alone with Mr. + Hervey, she was seized with a universal tremor; she tried to speak, but + could not articulate. At last she burst into a flood of tears; and when + this had in some measure relieved her, she threw herself upon her knees, + and clasping her hands, exclaimed, as she looked up to heaven— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I knew what I ought to do!—if I knew what I ought to say!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you, Virginia? And will you believe me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to say—the truth, whatever it may be.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will think me the most ungrateful of human beings?” + </p> + <p> + “How often must I assure you, Virginia, that I make no claim upon your + gratitude? Speak to me—I conjure you, as you value your happiness + and mine—speak to me without disguise! What is all this mystery? Why + should you fear to let me know what passes in your heart? Why did you + shriek at the sight of that picture?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, forgive me! forgive me!” cried Virginia: she would have sunk at his + feet, if he had not prevented her. + </p> + <p> + “I will—I can forgive any thing but deceit. Do not look at me with + so much terror, Virginia—I have not deserved it: my wish is to make + you happy. I would sacrifice even my own happiness to secure yours; but do + not mislead me, or you ruin us both. Cannot you give me a distinct answer + to this simple question—Why did you shriek at the sight of that + picture?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—but you will call me ‘<i>perfidious, ungrateful Virginia</i>!’—because + I have seen that figure—he has knelt to me—he has kissed my + hand—and I———” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey withdrew his arms, which had supported her, and placing + her upon a sofa, left her, whilst he walked up and down the room for some + minutes in silence. + </p> + <p> + “And why, Virginia,” said he, stopping short, “was it necessary to conceal + all this from me? Why was it necessary to persuade me that I was beloved? + Why was it necessary that my happiness should be the sacrifice?” + </p> + <p> + “It shall not!—it shall not! Your happiness shall not be the + sacrifice. Heaven is my witness, that there is no sacrifice I would not + make for you. Forgive me that shriek! I could not help fainting, indeed! + But I will be yours—I <i>ought</i> to be yours; and I am not + perfidious—I am not ungrateful: do not look upon me as you did in my + dream!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not talk to me of dreams, my dear Virginia; this is no time for + trifling; I ask no sacrifice from you—I ask nothing but truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Truth! Mrs. Ormond knows all the truth: I have concealed nothing from + her.” + </p> + <p> + “But she has concealed every thing from me,” cried Clarence; and, with a + sudden impulse of indignation, he was going to summon her, but when his + hand was upon the lock of the door he paused, returned to Virginia, and + said, “Let me hear the truth from <i>your</i> lips: it is all I shall ever + ask from you. How—when—where did you see this man?” + </p> + <p> + “What man?” said Virginia, looking up, with the simple expression of + innocence in her countenance. + </p> + <p> + Clarence pointed to the picture. + </p> + <p> + “At the village in the New Forest, at Mrs. Smith’s house,” said Virginia, + “one evening when I walked with her from my grandmother’s cottage.” + </p> + <p> + “And your grandmother knew of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Virginia, blushing, “and she was very much displeased.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mrs. Ormond knew of this?” pursued Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but she told me that you would not be displeased at it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey made another hasty step toward the door, but restraining his + impetuous temper, he again stopped, and leaning ever the back of a chair, + opposite to Virginia, waited in silence for her to proceed. He waited in + vain. + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean to distress you, Miss Hartley,” said he. + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears. “I knew, I knew,” cried she, “that you <i>would</i> + be displeased; I told Mrs. Ormond so. I knew you would never forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “In that you were mistaken,” said Clarence, mildly; “I forgive you without + difficulty, as I hope you may forgive yourself: nor can it be my wish to + extort from you any mortifying confessions. But, perhaps, it may yet be in + my power to serve you, if you will trust to me. I will myself speak to + your father. I will do every thing to secure to you the object of your + affections, if you will, in this last moment of our connexion, treat me + with sincerity, and suffer me to be your friend.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia sobbed so violently for some time, that she could not speak: at + last she said, “You are—you are the most generous of men! You have + always been my <i>best</i> friend! I am the most ungrateful of human + beings! But I am sure I never wished, I never intended, to deceive you. + Mrs. Ormond told me—” + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak of her at present, or perhaps I may lose my temper,” + interrupted Clarence in an altered voice: “only tell me—I conjure + you, tell me—in one word, who is this man and where is he to be + found?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. I do not understand you,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know! You will not trust me. Then I must leave you to—to + Mr. Hartley.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not leave me—oh, do not leave me in anger!” cried Virginia, + clinging to him. “Not trust you!—I!—not trust you! Oh, what <i>can</i> + you mean? I have no confessions to make! Mrs. Ormond knows every thought + of my mind, and so shall you, if you will only hear me. I do not know who + this man is, I assure you; nor where he is to be found.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you love him? Can you love a man whom you do not know, Virginia?” + </p> + <p> + “I only love his figure, I believe,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “His figure!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am quite bewildered,” said Virginia, looking round wildly; “I + know not what I feel.” + </p> + <p> + “If you permitted this man to kneel to you, to kiss your hand, surely you + must know that you love him, Virginia?” + </p> + <p> + “But that was only in a dream; and Mrs. Ormond said——” + </p> + <p> + “Only a dream! But you met him at Mrs. Smith’s, in the New Forest?” + </p> + <p> + “That was only a picture.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a picture!—but you have seen the original?” + </p> + <p> + “Never—never in my life; and I wish to Heaven I had never, never + seen the fatal picture! the image haunts me day and night. When I read of + heroes in the day, that figure rises to my view, instead of yours. When I + go to sleep at night, I see it, instead of yours, in my dreams; it speaks + to me, it kneels to me. I long ago told Mrs. Ormond this, but she laughed + at me. I told her of that frightful dream. I saw you weltering in your + blood; I tried to save you, but could not. I heard you say, ‘Perfidious, + ungrateful Virginia! you are the cause of my death!’ Oh, it was the most + dreadful night I ever passed! Still this figure, this picture, was before + me; and he was the knight of the white plumes; and it was he who stabbed + you; but when I wished him to be victorious, I did not know that he was + fighting against you. So Mrs. Ormond told me that I need not blame myself; + and she said that you were not so foolish as to be jealous of a picture; + but I knew you would be displeased—I knew you would think me + ungrateful—I knew you would never forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Virginia rapidly uttered all this, Clarence marked the wild + animation of her eyes, the sudden changes of her countenance; he + recollected her father’s insanity; every feeling of his mind gave way to + terror and pity; he approached her with all the calmness that he could + assume, took both her hands, and holding them in his, said, in a soothing + voice— + </p> + <p> + “My dear Virginia, you are not ungrateful. I do not think you so. I am not + displeased with you. You have done nothing to displease me. Compose + yourself, dear Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite composed, now you again call me dear Virginia. Only I am + afraid, as I always told Mrs. Ormond, that I do not love you <i>enough</i>; + but she said that I did, and that my fear was the strongest proof of my + affection.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia now spoke in so consistent a manner that Clarence could not doubt + that she was in the clear possession of her understanding. She repeated to + him all that she had said to Mrs. Ormond; and he began to hope that, + without any intention to deceive, Mrs. Ormond’s ignorance of the human + heart led her into a belief that Virginia was in love with him; whilst, in + fact, her imagination, exalted by solitude and romance, embodied and + became enamoured of a phantom. + </p> + <p> + “I always told Mrs. Ormond that she was mistaken,” said Clarence. “I never + believed that you loved me, Virginia, till—(he paused and carefully + examined her countenance)—till you yourself gave me reason to think + so. Was it only a principle of gratitude, then, that dictated your answer + to my letter?” + </p> + <p> + She looked irresolute: and at last, in a low voice, said, “If I could see, + if I could speak to Mrs. Ormond———” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot tell what are the secret feelings of your heart, Virginia. + Consult no Mrs. Ormond. Consult no human creature but yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mrs. Ormond told me that you loved me, and that you had educated me + to be your wife.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hervey made an involuntary exclamation against Mrs. Ormond’s folly. + </p> + <p> + “How, then, can you be happy,” continued Virginia, “if I am so ungrateful + as to say I do not love you? That I do not <i>love</i> you!—Oh! <i>that</i> + I cannot say; for I do love you better than any one living except my + father, and with the same sort of affection that I feel for him. You ask + me to tell you the secret feelings of my heart: the only secret feeling of + which I am conscious is—a wish not to marry, unless I could see in + reality such a person as——But that I knew was only a picture, + a dream; and I thought that I ought at least to sacrifice my foolish + imaginations to you, who have done so much for me. I knew that it would be + the height of ingratitude to refuse you; and besides, my father told me + that you would not accept of my fortune without my hand, so I consented to + marry you: forgive me, if these were wrong motives—I thought them + right. Only tell me what I can do to make you happy, as I am sure I wish + to do; to that wish I would sacrifice every other feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “Sacrifice nothing, dear Virginia. We may both be happy without making any + sacrifice of our feelings,” cried Clarence. And, transported at regaining + his own freedom, Virginia’s simplicity never appeared to him so charming + as at this moment. “Dearest Virginia, forgive me for suspecting you for + one instant of any thing unhandsome. Mrs. Ormond, with the very best + intentions possible, has led us both to the brink of misery. But I find + you such as I always thought you, ingenuous, affectionate, innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are not angry with me?” interrupted Virginia, with joyful + eagerness; “and you will not think me ungrateful? And you will not be + unhappy? And Mrs. Ormond was mistaken? And you do not wish that I should + <i>love</i> you, that I should be your wife, I mean? Oh, don’t deceive me, + for I cannot help believing whatever you say.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence Hervey, to give her a convincing proof that Mrs. Ormond had + misled her as to his sentiments, immediately avowed his passion for + Belinda. + </p> + <p> + “You have relieved me from all doubt, all fear, all anxiety,” said + Virginia, with the sweetest expression of innocent affection in her + countenance. “May you be as happy as you deserve to be! May Belinda—is + not that her name?—May Belinda—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Lady Delacour half opened the door, exclaiming—“Human + patience can wait no longer!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you trust me to explain for you, dear Virginia?” said Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “Most willingly,” said Virginia, retiring as Lady Delacour advanced. “Pray + leave me here alone, whilst you, who are used to talk before strangers, + speak for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dare you venture, Clarence,” said her ladyship, as she closed the door, + “to leave her alone with that picture? You are no lover, if you be not + jealous.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not jealous,” said Clarence, “yet I am a lover—a passionate + lover.” + </p> + <p> + “A passionate lover!” cried Lady Delacour, stopping short as they were + crossing the antechamber:—“then I have done nothing but mischief. In + love with Virginia? I will not—cannot believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “In love with Belinda!—Cannot you, will not you believe it?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Clarence, I never doubted it for an instant. But are you at + liberty to own it to any body but me?” + </p> + <p> + “I am at liberty to declare it to all the world.” + </p> + <p> + “You transport me with joy! I will not keep you from her a second. But + stay—I am sorry to tell you, that, as she informed me this morning, + <i>her heart is not at present inclined to love</i>. And here is Mrs. + Margaret Delacour, poor wretch, in this room, dying with curiosity. + Curiosity is as ardent as love, and has as good a claim to compassion.” + </p> + <p> + As he entered the room, where there were only Mrs. Margaret Delacour and + Belinda, Clarence Hervey’s first glance, rapid as it was, explained his + heart. + </p> + <p> + Belinda put her arm within Lady Delacour’s, trembling so that she could + scarcely stand. Lady Delacour pressed her hand, and was perfectly silent. + </p> + <p> + “And what is Miss Portman to believe,” cried Mrs. Margaret Delacour, “when + she has seen you on the very eve of marriage with another lady?” + </p> + <p> + “The strongest merit I can plead with such a woman as Miss Portman is, + that I was ready to sacrifice my own happiness to a sense of duty. Now + that I am at liberty——” + </p> + <p> + “Now that you are at liberty,” interrupted Lady Delacour, “you are in a + vast hurry to offer your whole soul to a lady, who has for months seen all + your merits with perfect insensibility, and who has been, notwithstanding + all my operations, stone blind to your love.” + </p> + <p> + “The struggles of my passion cannot totally have escaped Belinda’s + penetration,” said Clarence; “but I like her a thousand times the better + for not having trusted merely to appearances. That love is most to be + valued which cannot be easily won. In my opinion there is a prodigious + difference between a warm imagination and a warm heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lady Delacour, “we have all of us seen <i>Pamela maritata</i>—let + us now see <i>Belinda in love</i>, if that be possible. <i>If!</i> forgive + me this last stroke, my dear—in spite of all my raillery, I do + believe that the prudent Belinda is more capable of feeling real permanent + passion than any of the dear sentimental young ladies, whose motto is + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘All for love, or the world well lost.’” + </pre> + <p> + “That is just my opinion,” said Mrs. Margaret Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “But pray, what is become of Mr. Hartley?” looking round: “I do not see + him.” + </p> + <p> + “No: for I have hid him,” said Lady Delacour: “he shall be forthcoming + presently.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mr. Clarence Hervey, what have you done with my Virginia?” said Mrs. + Ormond, coming into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mrs. Ormond, what have <i>you</i> done with her?” replied Clarence. + “By your mistaken kindness, by insisting upon doing us both good against + our wills, you were very near making us both miserable for life. But I + blame nobody; I have no right to blame any one so much as myself. All this + has arisen from my own presumption and imprudence. Nothing could be more + absurd than my scheme of educating a woman in solitude to make her fit for + society. I might have foreseen what must happen, that Virginia would + consider me as her tutor, her father, not as her lover, or her husband; + that with the most affectionate of hearts, she could for me feel nothing + but <i>gratitude</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but gratitude!” repeated Mrs. Ormond, with a degree of amazement + in her countenance, which made every body present smile: “I am sure I + thought she was dying for love of you.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Belinda,” whispered Lady Delacour, “if I might judge of the + colour of this cheek, which has been for some moments permanent crimson, I + should guess that you were beginning to find out <i>of what use the sun is + to the dial</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not let me hear what Mr. Hervey is saying,” replied Belinda; “I + am very curious.” + </p> + <p> + “Curiosity is a stronger passion than love, as I told him just now,” said + Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + In spite of all his explanations, Mrs. Ormond could not be made to + comprehend Virginia’s feelings. She continually repeated, “But it is + impossible for Virginia, or for any body, to be in love with a picture.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not said that she is in love with a picture,” replied Mrs. + Delacour, “though even for that I could find you a precedent.” + </p> + <p> + “My Lady Delacour,” said Mrs. Ormond, “will you explain to us how that + picture came into your possession, and how it came here, and, in short, + all that is to be known about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, explain! explain! my dear Lady Delacour,” cried Mrs. Delacour: “I am + afraid I am grown almost as curious as my Lady Boucher. Explain! explain!” + </p> + <p> + “Most willingly,” said Lady Delacour. “To Marriott’s ruling passion for + birds you are all of you indebted for this discovery. Some time ago, + whilst we were at Twickenham, as Marriott was waiting at a stationer’s, to + bid her last adieus to a bullfinch, a gentleman came into the shop where + she and Bobby (as she calls this bird) were coquetting, and the gentleman + was struck even more than Marriott with the bullfinch. He went almost + distracted on hearing a particular tune, which this bird sang. I + suspected, from the symptoms, that the gentleman must be, or must have + been, in love with the bullfinch’s mistress. Now the bullfinch was traced + home to the ci-devant Virginia St. Pierre, the present Miss Hartley. I had + my reasons for being curious about her loves and lovers, and as soon as I + learned the story from Marriott, I determined, if possible, to find out + who this stranger, with the strange passion for bullfinches, might be. I + questioned and cross-questioned all those people at the stationer’s who + were present when he fell into ecstasies; and, from the shopman, who had + been bribed to secrecy, I learned that our gentleman returned to the + stationer’s the day after he met Marriott, and watched till he obtained a + sight of Virginia, as she came to her window. Now it was believed by the + girl of this shop, who had lived for some time with Mrs. Ormond—Forgive + me, Mr. Hervey, for what I am going to say—forgive me, Mrs. Ormond—scandal, + like death, is common to all—It was believed that Virginia was Mr. + Hervey’s mistress. My stranger no sooner learned this than he swore that + he would think of her no more; and after bestowing a variety of seamen’s’ + execrations upon the villain who had seduced this heavenly creature, he + departed from Twickenham, and was no more seen or heard of. My inquiries + after him were indefatigable, but for some time unsuccessful: and so they + might have continued, and we might have been all making one another + unhappy at this moment, if it had not been for Mr. Vincent’s great dog + Juba—Miss Annabella Luttridge’s billet-doux—Sir Philip + Baddely’s insolence—my Lord Delacour’s belief in a quack balsam—and + Captain Sunderland’s humanity.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Sunderland! who is Captain Sunderland? we never heard of him + before,” cried Mrs. Ormond. + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear of him just as I did, if you please,” said Lady Delacour, + “and if Belinda will submit to hear me tell the same story twice.” + </p> + <p> + Here her ladyship repeated the history of the battle of the dogs; and of + Sir Philip Baddely’s knocking down Juba, the man, for struggling in + defence of Juba, the dog. + </p> + <p> + “Now the gentleman who assisted my Lord Delacour in bringing the disabled + negro across the square to our house, was Captain Sunderland. My lord + summoned Marriott to produce Lady Boucher’s infallible balsam, that it + might be tried upon Juba’s sprained ankle. Whilst my lord was intent upon + the balsam, Marriott was intent upon Captain Sunderland. She recollected + that she had met him somewhere before, and the moment he spoke, she knew + him to be the gentleman who had fallen into ecstasies in the shop at + Twickenham, about the bullfinch. Marriott hastened to me with the news; I + hastened to my lord, made him introduce Captain Sunderland to me, and I + never rested till he had told me all that I wanted to know. Some years + ago, just before he went to sea, he paid a visit to his mother, who then + lodged with a widow Smith, in the New Forest. Whilst he was there, he + heard of the young beauty who lived in the Forest, with a grandmother, who + was <i>not a little particular</i>; and who would not permit any body to + see her. + </p> + <p> + “My captain’s curiosity was excited; one day, unseen by the duenna, he + obtained a distinct view of Virginia, watering her roses and tending her + bees. Struck with her uncommon beauty, he approached carefully to the + thicket in which the cottage was enclosed, and found a <i>lair</i>, where + he concealed himself, day after day, and contemplated at leisure the + budding charms of the fair wood-nymph. In short, he became so enamoured, + that he was determined to gain admittance at the cottage, and declare his + passion: but to his honour be it told, that when the history of the poor + girl’s mother, and the situation and fears of the old lady, who was her + only friend, were known to him, in consideration of the extreme youth of + the ward, and the extreme age of her guardian, he determined to defer his + addresses till his return from the West Indies, whither he was shortly to + sail, and where he had hopes of making a fortune, that might put him in a + situation to render the object of his affections independent. He left a + bullfinch with Mrs. Smith, who gave it to Virginia, without telling to + whom it had belonged, lest her grandmother might be displeased. + </p> + <p> + “I really thought that all this showed too nice a moral sense for a young + dashing lieutenant in the navy, and I was persuaded that my gentleman was + only keeping his mistress’s secret like a man of honour. With this belief, + I regretted that Clarence Hervey should throw himself away upon a girl who + was unworthy of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” interrupted Clarence, “you are perfectly convinced of your + mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly! perfectly!—I am convinced that Virginia is only half + mad. But let me go on with my story. I was determined to discover whether + she had any remains of affection for this captain. It was in vain he + assured me that she had never seen him. I prevailed upon him to let me go + on my own way. I inquired whether he had ever had his picture drawn. Yes, + he had for his mother, just when he first went out to sea. It had been + left at the widow Smith’s. I begged him to procure it for me. He told me + it was impossible. I told him I trampled on impossibilities. In short, he + got the picture for me, as you see. ‘Now,’ thought I, ‘if he speaks the + truth, Virginia will see this picture without emotion, and it will only + seem to be a present for Clarence. But if she had ever seen him before, or + had any secret to conceal, she will betray herself on the sudden + appearance of this picture.’ Things have turned out contrary to all my + expectations, and yet better.———And now, Clarence, I + must beg you will prevail on Miss Hartley to appear; I can go on no + farther without her.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour took Virginia by the hand, the moment she entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Will you trust yourself with me, Miss Hartley?” said she. “I have made + you faint once to-day by the sight of a picture; will you promise me not + to faint again, when I produce the original?” + </p> + <p> + “The original!” said Virginia. “I will trust myself with you, for I am + sure you cannot mean to laugh at me, though, perhaps, I deserve to be + laughed at.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Delacour threw open the door of another apartment. Mr. Hartley + appeared, and with him Captain Sunderland. + </p> + <p> + “My dear daughter,” said Mr. Hartley, “give me leave to introduce to you a + friend, to whom I owe more obligations than to any man living, except to + Mr. Hervey. This gentleman was stationed some years ago at Jamaica, and in + a rebellion of the negroes on my plantation he saved my life. Fortune has + accidentally thrown my benefactor in my way. To show my sense of my + obligations is out of my power.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia’s surprise was extreme; her vivid dreams, the fond wishes of her + waking fancy, were at once accomplished. For the first moment she gazed as + on an animated picture, and all the ideas of love and romance associated + with this image rushed upon her mind. + </p> + <p> + But when the realities by which he was surrounded dispelled the illusion, + she suddenly withdrew her eyes, and blushed deeply, with such timid and + graceful modesty as charmed every body present. + </p> + <p> + Captain Sunderland pressed forward; but was stopped by Lady Delacour. + </p> + <p> + “Avaunt, thou real lover!” cried she: “none but the shadow of a man can + hope to approach the visionary maid. In vain has Marraton forced his way + through the bushes and briars, in vain has he braved the apparition of the + lion; there is yet a phantom barrier apparently impassable between him and + his Yaratilda, for he is in the world of shadows. Now, mark me, Marraton: + hurry not this delicate spirit, or perchance you frighten and lose her for + ever; but have patience, and gradually and gracefully she will venture + into your world of realities—only give her time.” + </p> + <p> + “Time! O yes, give me time,” cried Virginia, shrinking back. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Hartley,” continued Lady Delacour, “in plain prose, to + prevent all difficulties and embarrassments, I must inform you, that + Captain Sunderland will not insist upon prompt payment of your father’s + debt of gratitude: he has but one quarter of an hour to spend with us—he + is actually under sailing orders; so that you will have time to compose + your mind before his return. Clarence, I advise you to accompany Captain + Sunderland on this cruise; don’t you, Belinda? + </p> + <p> + “And now, my good friends,” continued Lady Delacour, “shall I finish the + novel for you?” + </p> + <p> + “If your ladyship pleases; nobody can do it better,” said Clarence Hervey. + </p> + <p> + “But I hope you will remember, dear Lady Delacour,” said Belinda, “that + there is nothing in which novelists are so apt to err as in hurrying + things toward the conclusion: in not allowing <i>time</i> enough for that + change of feeling, which change of situation cannot instantly produce.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, my dear Belinda; true to your principles to the last gasp. + Fear nothing—you shall have <i>time</i> enough to become accustomed + to Clarence. Would you choose that I should draw out the story to five + volumes more? With your advice and assistance, I can with the greatest + ease, my dear. A declaration of love, you know, is only the beginning of + things; there may be blushes, and sighs, and doubts, and fears, and + misunderstandings, and jealousies without end or common sense, to fill up + the necessary space, and to gain the necessary <i>time</i>; but if I might + conclude the business in two lines, I should say, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Ye gods, annihilate both space and time, + And make four lovers happy.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Oh, that would be cutting matters too short,” said Mrs. Margaret + Delacour. “I am of the old school; and though I could dispense with the + description of Miss Harriot Byron’s worked chairs and fine china, yet I + own I like to hear something of the preparation for a marriage, as well as + of the mere wedding. I like to hear <i>how</i> people become happy in a + rational manner, better than to be told in the huddled style of an old + fairy tale—<i>and so they were all married, and they lived very + happily all the rest of their days</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not in much danger of hearing such an account of modern + marriages,” said Lady Delacour. “But how shall I please you all?—Some + people cry, ‘Tell me every thing;’ others say, that, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Le secret d’ennuyer est celui de tout dire.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Something must be left to the imagination. Positively I will not describe + wedding-dresses, or a procession to church. I have no objection to saying + that the happy couples were united by the worthy Mr. Moreton; that Mr. + Percival gave Belinda away; and that immediately after the ceremony, he + took the whole party down with him to Oakly-park. Will this do?—Or, + we may conclude, if you like it better, with a characteristic letter of + congratulation from Mrs. Stanhope to her <i>dearest</i> niece, Belinda, + acknowledging that she was wrong to quarrel with her for refusing Sir + Philip Baddely, and giving her infinite credit for that admirable <i>management</i> + of Clarence Hervey, which she hopes will continue through life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have no objection to ending with a letter,” said Mrs. Delacour; + “for last speeches are always tiresome.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said her ladyship; “it is so difficult, as the Critic says, to get + lovers off upon their knees. Now I think of it, let me place you all in + proper attitudes for stage effect. What signifies being happy, unless we + appear so?—Captain Sunderland—kneeling with Virginia, if you + please, sir, at her father’s feet: you in the act of giving them your + blessing, Mr. Hartley. Mrs. Ormond clasps her hands with joy—nothing + can be better than that, madam—I give you infinite credit for the + attitude. Clarence, you have a right to Belinda’s hand, and may kiss it + too: nay, Miss Portman, it is the rule of the stage. Now, where’s my Lord + Delacour? he should be embracing me, to show that we are reconciled. Ha! + here he comes—Enter Lord Delacour, with little Helena in his hand—very + well! a good start of surprise, my love—stand still, pray; you + cannot be better than you are: Helena, my love, do not let go your + father’s hand. There! quite pretty and natural! Now, Lady Delacour, to + show that she is reformed, comes forward to address the audience with a + moral—a moral! Yes, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Our <i>tale</i> contains a <i>moral</i>; and, no doubt, + You all have wit enough to find it out.’” + </pre> + <p> + (<i>Written in</i> 1800. <i>Published in</i> 1801.) + </p> + <p> + THE END. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_FOOT" id="link2H_FOOT"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOOTNOTES: + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ This declaration was taken + from the lips of a celebrated character.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ The manners, if not the + morals, of gentlemen, have improved since the first publication of this + work. Swearing has gone out of fashion. But Sir Philip Baddely’s oaths are + retained, as marks in a portrait of the times held up to the public, + touched by ridicule, the best reprobation.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ The bloody hand is the + heraldic designation of the baronet.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ “Would Chloe know if you’re + alive or dead, She bids her footman put it in her head.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ See Adventures of a Guinea, + vol. i. chap. xvi.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ Marmontel.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ See Edwards’s History of + the West Indies, vol. ii.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ Miscellaneous Pieces by + Mrs. Barbauld and Dr. Aikin.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ we spare the reader the + medical journal of Lady Delacour’s health for some months. Her recover was + gradual and complete.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"> Note--></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ A fact.] + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales And Novels, Volume 3 (of 10), by +Maria Edgeworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 3 (OF 10) *** + +***** This file should be named 9455-h.htm or 9455-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/5/9455/ + + +Text file produced by Jonathan Ingram, Sheila Vogtmann and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation’s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + + +</pre> + + </body> +</html> |