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Updated: June 14, 2025
"For two excellent reasons, my dear: because we cannot help it, and because he deserves it. Yes, he deserves it, believe me, if it were only for having written these charming letters," said Lady Delacour, opening a cabinet, and taking out a small packet of letters, which she put into Belinda's hands. "Pray, read them; you will find them amazingly edifying, as well as entertaining.
Lady Delacour's quick eye saw curiosity painted in Belinda's countenance, and for a moment she was embarrassed; but she soon recovered herself, and endeavoured to turn the course of Miss Portman's thoughts by whispering to her some nonsense about Clarence Hervey a cabalistical name, which she knew had the power, when pronounced in a certain tone, of throwing Belinda into confusion.
Her dress was so very stylish that it was quite startling in its effect; her forehead was covered down to her large, pretty eyes themselves, with curls of yellow-brown hair; and her slender throat was swathed round and round with a grand scarf of black lace. She made a step forward, and then stopped, looking at Miss Belinda. Her eyes suddenly, to Miss Belinda's amazement, filled with tears.
With the assistance of Belinda's portfolio and her harp, and the good-humour and sprightliness of Lady Delacour's wit, his lordship got through the evening much to his own satisfaction. He played on the flute, he told the story of Studley's original Titian, and he detected a fault that had escaped Mr. Percival in the perspective of Miss Portman's sketch of Fountain's Abbey.
Upon the present occasion his love for Belinda confounded all his moral calculations: one moment, his feelings as a man of honour forbade him to condescend to the meanness of dissimulation; but the next instant his feelings as a lover prevailed; and he satisfied his conscience by the idea that, as his vow must preclude all danger of his return to the gaming-table in future, it would only be creating an unnecessary alarm in Belinda's mind to speak to her of his past imprudence.
Lady Delacour hid her face in Belinda's lap, and almost stifled by the violence of contending emotions, she at last gave vent to them, and sobbed aloud. "Trust to one," said Belinda, pressing her hand, with all the tenderness which humanity could dictate, "who will never leave you at the mercy of an insolent waiting-woman trust to me."
Arthur Poppleton, blushing, a trifle timorous perhaps, but happy beyond measure to find himself in Miss Belinda's parlor again, with Miss Belinda's niece. Perhaps the least possible shade of his joyousness died out when he caught sight of Mr. Francis Barold, and certainly Mr. Francis Barold was not at all delighted to see him. "What does the fellow want?" that gentleman was saying inwardly.
I do not forget it, I assure you I own you as my knight to all the world, in public and private do not I, Belinda?" A dark cloud overspread Mr. Vincent's brow he listened not to Belinda's answer. Seized with a transport of jealousy, he darted at Mr. Hervey a glance of mingled scorn and rage; and, after saying a few unintelligible words to Miss Portman and Lady Delacour, he left the room.
"Swear to me, for Belinda's sake solemnly swear to me, that you will never more trust your happiness and hers to the hazard of a die swear that you will never more, directly or indirectly, play at any game of chance, and I will restore to you the fortune that you have lost." Mr.
"Belinda is awfully spoiled," said Anne, to break the stiffness, as she spread the table with a thin old cloth, "but she is such a dear we can't help it." Judy drew her skirts away from Belinda's patting paw. "I hate cats," she said, with decision. Anne's lips set in a firm line, but she did not say anything.
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