“And is it possible,” cried Dr. X----, “that any woman should be so meanly selfish, as thus to expose the reputation of her friend merely to preserve her own vanity from mortification?” “Hush--don’t speak so loud,” said Belinda, “you will awaken her; and at present she is certainly more an object of pity than of indignation.--If you will have the goodness to come with me, I will take you by a back staircase up to the _mysterious boudoir_. I am not too proud to give positive proofs of my speaking truth; the key of that room now lies on Lady Delacour’s bed--it was that which she grasped in her hand during her delirium--she has now let it fall--it opens both the doors of the boudoir--you shall see,” added Miss Portman, with a smile, “that I am not afraid to let you unlock either of them.” “As a polite man,” said Dr. X----, “I believe that I should absolutely refuse to take any external evidence of a lady’s truth; but demonstration is unanswerable even by enemies, and I will not sacrifice your interests to the foppery of my politeness--so I am ready to follow you. The curiosity of the servants may have been excited by last night’s disturbance, and I see no method so certain as that which you propose of preventing busy rumour. That goddess (let Ovid say what he pleases) was born and bred in a kitchen, or a servants’ hall.--But,” continued Dr. X----, “my dear Miss Portman, you will put a stop to a number of charming stories by this prudence of yours--a romance called the Mysterious Boudoir, of nine volumes at least, might be written on this subject, if you would only condescend to act like almost all other heroines, that is to say, without common sense.” The doctor now followed Belinda, and satisfied himself by ocular demonstration, that this cabinet was the retirement of disease, and not of pleasure. It was about eight o’clock in the morning when Dr. X---- got home; he found Clarence Hervey waiting for him. Clarence seemed to be in great agitation, though he endeavoured, with all the power which he possessed over himself, to suppress his emotion. “You have been to see Lady Delacour,” said he, calmly: “is she much hurt?--It was a terrible accident.” “She has been much hurt,” said Dr. X----, “and she has been for some hours delirious; but ask me no more questions now, for I am asleep, and must go to bed, unless you have any thing to say that can waken me: you look as if some great misfortune had befallen you; what is the matter?” “Oh, my dear friend,” said Hervey, taking his hand, “do not jest with me; I am not able to bear your raillery in my present temper--in one word, I fear that Belinda is unworthy of my esteem: I can tell you no more, except that I am more miserable than I thought any woman could make me.”