“No matter what you thought,” interrupted her ladyship. “Let my carriage draw up, for here’s a young friend of yours trembling so about nothing, 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 you to stay,” said she to Hervey, who involuntarily followed her in the utmost consternation.
“I’m perfectly well, now—perfectly well,” said Belinda.
“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.”
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.
“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.”
“It is perfectly indifferent to me, madam,” Belinda said, with a voice and look of proud indignation.
“Lady Delacour, your carriage has drawn up,” said Clarence Hervey, returning to the door, but without entering.
“Then put this ‘perfectly well’ and ‘perfectly indifferent’ lady into it,” said Lady Delacour.
He obeyed without uttering a syllable.
“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.