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---------” “It is,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “not another scream shall you hear--only do not, do not, my dear Belinda, send for a physician.” “You will throw yourself again into convulsions,” said Belinda. “Marriott, you see, has lost all command of herself--I shall not have strength to manage you---perhaps I may lose my presence of mind--I cannot answer for myself--your husband may desire to see you.” “No danger of that,” said Lady Delacour: “tell him my ankle is sprained--tell him I am bruised all over--tell him any thing you will--he will not trouble himself any more about me--he will forget all that passed to-night by the time he is sober. Oh! give me the laudanum, dearest Belinda, and say no more about physicians.” It was in vain to reason with Lady Delacour. Belinda attempted to persuade her: “For my sake, dear Lady Delacour,” said she, “let me send for Dr. X----; he is a man of honour, your secret will be perfectly safe with him.” “He will tell it to Clarence Hervey,” said Lady Delacour: “of all men living, I would not send for Dr. X----; I will not see him if he comes.” “Then,” said Belinda, calmly, but with a fixed determination of countenance, “I must leave you to-morrow morning--I must return to Bath.” “Leave me! remember your promise.”