“I assure you, Mrs. Delacour,” said Belinda, “that you have wasted a great deal of eloquence upon this occasion, for—”
“I am sorry for it,” interrupted Mrs. Delacour, rising from her seat, with a look of some displeasure. “I meant not to distress or offend you, Miss Portman, by my eloquence: I am only concerned that I should have so far mistaken your character as to expose myself to this refusal.”
“I have given no refusal,” said Belinda, mildly: “you did not let me finish my sentence.”
“I beg pardon; that is a foolish old trick of mine.”
“Mrs. Delacour, I was going to say, has wasted a great deal of eloquence: for I am entirely of her opinion, and I shall, with the greatest readiness, comply with her request.”
“You are a charming, generous girl, and I am a passionate old fool—thank you a thousand times.”
“You are not at all obliged to me,” said Belinda. “When I first heard this story, I believed it, as Lady Boucher now does—but I have had reason to alter my opinion, and perhaps the same means of information would have changed hers; once convinced, it is impossible to relapse into suspicion.”
“Impossible to you: the most truly virtuous women are always the least suspicious and uncharitable in their opinion of their own sex. Lady Anne Percival inspired me with this belief, and Miss Portman confirms it. I admire your courage in daring to come forward in the defence of innocence. I am very rude, alas! for praising you so much.”
“I have not a right to your admiration,” said Belinda; “for I must honestly confess to you that I should not have this courage if there were any danger in the case. I do not think that in doubtful cases it is the business of a young woman to hazard her own reputation by an attempt to preserve another’s: I do not imagine, at least, that I am of sufficient consequence in the world for this purpose; therefore I should never attempt it. It is the duty of such women as Mrs. Delacour, whose reputation is beyond the power of scandal, to come forward in the defence of injured innocence; but this would not be courage in Belinda Portman, it would be presumption and temerity.”
“Well, if you will not let me admire your courage, or your generosity, or your prudence,” said Mrs. Delacour laughing, “you must positively let me admire you altogether, and love you too, for I cannot help it. Farewell.”