His lordship’s visit was not of unseasonable length; for he recollected that the man who came about the burgundy was waiting for him. But, perhaps, the shortness of the visit rendered it the more pleasing, for Lady Delacour afterward said to Belinda, “My dear, would you believe it, my Lord Delacour was absolutely a perfect example of the useful and agreeable this morning--who knows but he may become the sublime and beautiful in time? _En attendant_ here are your two hundred guineas, my dear Belinda: a thousand thanks for the thing, and a million for the manner--manner is all in all in conferring favours. My lord, who, to do him justice, has too much honesty to pretend to more delicacy than he really possesses, told me that he had been taking a lesson from Miss Portman this morning in the art of obliging; and really, for a grown gentleman, and for the first lesson, he comes on surprisingly. I do think, that by the time he is a widower his lordship will be quite another thing, quite an agreeable man--not a genius, not a Clarence Hervey--that you cannot expect. Apropos, what is the reason that we have seen so little of Clarence Hervey lately? He has certainly some secret attraction elsewhere. It cannot be that girl Sir Philip mentioned; no, she’s nothing new. Can it be at Lady Anne Percival’s?--or where can it be? Whenever he sees me, I think he asks when we go to Harrowgate. Now Oakly-park is within a few miles of Harrowgate. I will not go there, that’s decided. Lady Anne is an exemplary matron, so she is out of the case; but I hope she has no _sister excellence_, no niece, no cousin, to entangle our hero.” “Ours!” said Belinda. “Well, _yours_, then,” said Lady Delacour. “Mine!” “Yes, yours: I never in my life saw a better struggle between a sigh and a smile. But what have you done to poor Sir Philip Baddely? My Lord Delacour told me--you know all people who have nothing else to say, tell news quicker than others--my Lord Delacour told me, that he saw Sir Philip part from you this morning in a terrible bad humour. Come, whilst you tell your story, help me to string these pearls; that will save you from the necessity of looking at me, and will conceal your blushes: you need not be afraid of betraying Sir Philip’s secrets; for I could have told you long ago, that he would inevitably propose for you--the fact is nothing new or surprising to me, but I should really like to hear how ridiculous the man made himself.” “And that,” said Belinda, “is the only thing which I do not wish to tell your ladyship.” “Lord, my dear, surely it is no secret that Sir Philip Baddely is ridiculous; but you are so good-natured that I can’t be out of humour with you. If you won’t gratify my curiosity, will you gratify my taste, and sing for me once more that charming song which none but you _can_ sing to please me?--I must learn it from you, absolutely.”