“I will tell you all I know of my own mind,” replied Belinda, looking up with an ingenuous countenance. “I esteem Mr. Vincent; I am grateful to him for the proofs he has given me of steady attachment, and of confidence in my integrity. I like his manners and the frankness of his temper; but I do not yet love him, and till I do, no earthly consideration could prevail upon me to marry him.”
“Perfectly satisfactory, my dear Belinda; and yet I cannot be quite at ease whilst Mr. Vincent is present, and my poor Clarence absent: proximity is such a dangerous advantage even with the wisest of us. The absent lose favour so quickly in Cupid’s court, as in all other courts; and they are such victims to false reports and vile slanderers!”
Belinda sighed.
“Thank you for that sigh, my dear,” said Lady Delacour. “May I ask, would you, if you discovered that Mr. Vincent had a Virginia, discard him for ever from your thoughts?”
“If I discovered that he had deceived and behaved dishonourably to any woman, I certainly should banish him for ever from my regard.”
“With as much ease as you banished Clarence Hervey?”
“With more, perhaps.”
“Then you acknowledge—that’s all I want—that you liked Clarence better than you do Vincent?”
“I acknowledge it,” said Belinda, colouring up to her temples; “but that time is entirely past, and I never look back to it.”
“But if you were forced to look back to it, my dear,—if Clarence Hervey proposed for you,—would not you cast a lingering look behind?”