“Then to what do you object?—Is there any thing disgusting to you in his person or manners?”
“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.”
“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.”
“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 accustomed to Caliban.”
“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.”
“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.
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.”
“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?”
“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.”
“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—”