She, her unicorn, and her blockhead, were out of sight in a few minutes.
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.
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
“Love the mild rays, and bless the useful light.”
“Miss Portman,” said Mr. Percival, “are not you afraid of making an enemy of Mrs. Freke, by declining her invitation to Harrowgate?”
“I think her friendship more to be dreaded than her enmity,” replied Belinda.
“Then you are not to be terrified by an obeah-woman?” said Mr. Vincent.
“Not in the least, unless she were to come in the shape of a false friend,” said Belinda.
“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.”
“But why with a creole?” said Mr. Percival.