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.
“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?”
“Yes,” said Belinda, much surprised. “I believe—I am not quite certain—but I believe I shall stay with her ladyship some time longer.”
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.
“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?”
“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.
“I have heard a report,” said Mr. Hervey, “which is most injurious to you.”
“To me!”
“Yes. No one can escape calumny. It is whispered, that if Lady Delacour should die—.”
At the word die, Belinda started.