Lord Delacour stopped short. “Tell me, then,” cried Lord Delacour, “is not a lover of Lady Delacour’s concealed there?” “No!—No!—No!” answered Belinda. “Then a lover of Miss Portman?” said Lord Delacour. “Gad! we have hit it now, I believe.”
“Believe whatever you please, my lord,” said Belinda, hastily, “but give me the key.”
Clarence Hervey drew the key from Lord Delacour’s hand, gave it to Miss Portman without looking at her, and immediately withdrew. Lord Delacour followed him with a sort of drunken laugh; and no one remained in the room but Marriott, Belinda, and Lady Delacour. Marriott was so much fluttered, as she said, that she could do nothing. Miss Portman locked the room door, and began to undress Lady Delacour, who lay motionless. “Are we by ourselves?” said Lady Delacour, opening her eyes.
“Yes—are you much hurt?” said Belinda. “Oh, you are a charming girl!” said Lady Delacour. “Who would have thought you had so much presence of mind and courage—have you the key safe?” “Here it is,” said Belinda, producing it; and she repeated her question, “Are you much hurt?” “I am not in pain now,” said Lady Delacour, “but I have suffered terribly. If I could get rid of all this finery, if you could put me to bed, I could sleep perhaps.”
Whilst Belinda was undressing Lady Delacour, she shrieked several times; but between every interval of pain she repeated, “I shall be better to-morrow.” As soon as she was in bed, she desired Marriott to give her double her usual quantity of laudanum; for that all the inclination which she had felt to sleep was gone, and that she could not endure the shooting pains that she felt in her breast.
“Leave me alone with your lady, Marriott,” said Miss Portman, taking the bottle of laudanum from her trembling hand, “and go to bed; for I am sure you are not able to sit up any longer.”
As she spoke, she took Marriott into the adjoining dressing-room. “Oh, dear Miss Portman,” said Marriott, who was sincerely attached to her lady, and who at this instant forgot all her jealousies, and all her love of power, “I’ll do any thing you ask me; but pray let me stay in the room, though I know I’m quite helpless. It will be too much for you to be here all night by yourself. The convulsions may take my lady. What shrieks she gives every now and then!—and nobody knows what’s the matter but ourselves; and every body in the house is asking me why a surgeon is not sent for, if my lady is so much hurt. Oh, I can’t answer for it to my conscience, to have kept the matter secret so long; for to be sure a physician, if had in time, might have saved my lady—but now nothing can save her!” And here Marriott burst into tears.
“Why don’t you give me the laudanum?” cried Lady Delacour, in a loud peremptory voice; “Give it to me instantly.”—“No,” said Miss Portman, firmly.—“Hear me, Lady Delacour—you must allow me to judge, for you know that you are not in a condition to judge for yourself, or rather you must allow me to send for a physician, who may judge for us both.”
“A physician!” cried Lady Delacour, “Never—never. I charge you let no physician be sent for. Remember your promise: you cannot betray me—you will not betray me.”
“No,” said Belinda, “of that I have given sufficient proof—but you will betray yourself: it is already known by your servants that you have been hurt by the overturn of your carriage; if you do not let either a surgeon or physician see you it will excite surprise and suspicion. It is not in your power, when violent pain seizes you, to refrain from————-”