Читать книгу Essential Novelists - Maria Edgeworth - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 14

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THE NEXT MORNING MR. Hervey called on Dr. X— — and begged that he would accompany him to Lady Delacour’s.

“To be introduced to your tragic muse?” said the doctor.

“Yes,” said Mr. Hervey: “I must have your opinion of her before I devote myself.”

“My opinion! but of whom? — Of Lady Delacour?”

“No; but of a young lady whom you will see with her.”

“Is she handsome?”

“Beautiful!”

“And young?”

“And young.”

“And graceful?”

“The most graceful person you ever beheld.”

“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.”

“A thousand faults! a charitable allowance,” said Clarence, smiling.

“There now,” said Dr. X——

‘Touch him, and no minister’s so sore.’

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.”

“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.”

“And perhaps you think too much to make a good friend,” said Dr. X——.

“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.”

“Very possibly!” interrupted Dr. X——. “But before we go any farther, will you please to tell me of what Belinda you are talking?”

“Belinda Portman. I forgot that I had not told you.”

“Miss Portman, a niece of Mrs. Stanhope’s?”

“Yes, but do not be prejudiced against her on that account,” said Clarence, eagerly, “though I was at first myself.”

“Then you will excuse my following your example instead of your precepts.”

“No,” said Clarence, “for my precepts are far better than my example.”

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?

“Well,” cried Clarence, when their visit was over, “what is your opinion of Lady Delacour?”

“I am ‘blasted with excess of light,’” said the doctor.

“Her ladyship is certainly very brilliant,” said Clarence, “but I hope that Miss Portman did not overpower you.”

“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.

‘She yields her charms of mind with sweet delay.’”

“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.’”

“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.”

“What!” cried Clarence Hervey, looking eagerly in the doctor’s eyes, “what do you mean? I am afraid you do not approve of Belinda.”

“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.”

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.

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.

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 éclat; for that an abbé, by losing adroitly a game at chess to the Spanish minister, obtained a cardinal’s hat.

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.

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?”

“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?”

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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?”

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.

“Lady Delacour has charming spirits,” said Clarence Hervey; “they inspire every body with gaiety.”

“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.”

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.

“You are putting the bishop into the place of the knight,” said Clarence.

“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 —”

“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.”

“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.”

“Are you in earnest, Mr. Hervey?” said Belinda.

“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?”

“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?”

“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.”

“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 lam, 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.”

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.”

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.

“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?”

“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.”

“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?”

“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.”

“Very extraordinary, faith,” said Sir Philip.

“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 pet quiz?“

“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.

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.

“I never argue, for my part,” cried Mr. Rochfort: “‘pon honour, ’tis a deal too much trouble. A lady, a handsome lay, I mean, is always in the right with me.”

“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?”

“Your club, Sir Philip, will do me honour by such an ostracism.”

“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?”

“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!”

“Then fare you well, Clary,” said Sir Philip, “you’re no longer one of us.”

“Then fare ye well, Clary, you’re no longer the man for me,” said Rochfort.

“Tant pis, and tant mieux“ said Clarence, and so they parted.

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.

“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.

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.”

“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. ’Helena Delacour.’ 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.”

“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 ’eloquence de billet.’”

“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.”

“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 evils, Miss Portman?”

“Pray, Lady Delacour,” interrupted Clarence Hervey, “when do you go to Harrowgate?”

“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.”

“Your ladyship does me a great deal of honour,” said Hervey: “I shall, if it be possible, do myself the honour of attending you.”

And soon after this arrangement was made, Mr. Hervey took his leave.

“Well, my dear, are you still poring over that letter of Helena’s?” said Lady Delacour to Miss Portman.

“I fancy your ladyship did not quite finish it,” said Belinda.

“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.”

“You did not see, then, what Miss Delacour says of the lady who took her to that Museum?”

“Not I. What lady? her Aunt Margaret?”

“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.”

“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?”

“Lady Anne Percival; of whom she speaks with so much gratitude and affection, that I quite long ——”

“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.”

“Then you did read some of her letters?”

“Half! — I never read more than half, upon my word,” said Lady Delacour, laughing.

“Why will you delight in making yourself appear less good than you are, my dear Lady Delacour?” said Belinda, taking her hand.

“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.”

“Surely, your ladyship does not think,” said Belinda, “that a wife is a being whose actions are necessarily governed by a husband.”

“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.”

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.

“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.”

“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 keep it up 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.”

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?”

“Her affectionate disposition can be nothing to me,” said Lady Delacour.

Belinda felt a hot tear drop upon her hand, which lay upon Lady Delacour’s lap.

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

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.

Nothing remains for me to do, thought Belinda, but to sooth this haughty spirit: all other hope, I see, is vain.

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 that 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.

“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?”

“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.”

“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.”