After the company was gone, Lady Delacour was much surprised by the earnestness with which Belinda pressed the request that they might the next morning pay a visit to Virginia.
“My dear,” said Lady Delacour, “to tell you the truth, I am full of curiosity, and excessively anxious to go. I hesitated merely on your account: I fancied that you would not like the visit, and that if I went without you, it might be taken notice of; but I am delighted to find that you will come with me: I can only say that you have more generosity than I should have in the same situation.”
The next morning they went together to Mrs. Delacour’s. In their way thither, Belinda, to divert her own thoughts, and to rouse Lady Delacour from the profound and unnatural silence into which she had fallen, petitioned her to finish the history of Sir Philip Baddely, the dog, Miss Annabella Luttridge, and her billet-doux.
“For some of my high crimes and misdemeanours, you vowed that you would not tell me the remainder of the story till the whole week had elapsed; now will you satisfy my curiosity? You recollect that you left off just where you said that you were come to the best part of the story.”
“Was I? did I?—Very true, we shall have time enough to finish it by-and-by, my dear,” said Lady Delacour; “at present my poor head is running upon something else, and I have left off being an accomplished actress, or I could talk of one subject and think of another as well as the best of you.—Stop the carriage, my dear; I am afraid they have forgot my orders.”
“Did you carry what I desired this morning to Mrs. Delacour?” said her ladyship to one of the footmen.
“I did, my lady.”
“And did you say from me, that it was not to be opened till I came?’
“Yes, my lady.”
“Where did you leave it?”