“Can you, dear Lady Delacour,” cried Belinda, “speak in this manner, and recollect all we heard from Marriott this morning? And to what purpose all this?”
“To what purpose, my dear? To convince your friend, Mr. Vincent, that I am neither fool nor knave; but that I deal fairly by you, by him, and by all the world. Mr. Hervey’s conduct towards Miss Portman has, I acknowledge, sir, been undecided. Some circumstances have lately come to my knowledge which throw doubts upon his honour and integrity—doubts which, I firmly believe, he will clear up to my satisfaction at least, as soon as I see him, or as soon as it is in his power; with this conviction, and believing, as I do, that no man upon earth is so well suited to my friend,—pardon me, Mr. Vincent, if my wishes differ from yours: though my sincerity may give you present, it may save you from future, pain.”
“Your ladyship’s sincerity, whatever pain it may give me, I admire,” said Mr. Vincent, with some pride in his manner; “but I see that I must despair of the honour of your ladyship’s congratulations.”
“Pardon me,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “there you are quite mistaken: the man of Belinda’s choice must receive my congratulations; he must do more—he must become my friend I would never rest till I had won his regard, nor should I in the least be apprehensive that he would not have sufficient greatness of mind to forgive my having treated him with a degree of sincerity which the common forms of politeness cannot justify, and at which common souls would be scandalized past recovery.”
Mr. Vincent’s pride was entirely vanquished by this speech; and with that frankness by which his manners were usually characterized, he thanked her for having distinguished him from common souls; and assured her that such sincerity as hers was infinitely more to his taste than that refined politeness of which he was aware no one was more perfect mistress than Lady Delacour.
Here their conversation ended, and Mr. Vincent, as it was now late, took his leave.
“Really, my dear Belinda,” said Lady Delacour, when he was gone, “I am not surprised at your impatience to return to Oakly-park; I am not so partial to my knight, as to compare him, in personal accomplishments, with your hero. I acknowledge, also, that there is something vastly prepossessing in the frankness of his manners; he has behaved admirably well about this abominable letter; but, what is better than all in a lady’s eyes he is éperdument amoureux.”
“Not éperdument, I hope,” said Belinda.
“Then, as you do not think it necessary for your hero to be éperdument amoureux, I presume,” said Lady Delacour, “you do not think it necessary that a heroine should be in love at all. So love and marriage are to be separated by philosophy, as well as by fashion. This is Lady Anne Percival’s doctrine! I give Mr. Percival joy. I remember the time, when he fancied love essential to happiness.”
“I believe he not only fancies, but is sure of it now, from experience,” said Belinda.