“The only thing of which Lady Delacour complained was the noise of this macaw,” said Belinda; “it was a pretty bird--how long have you had it?” “Scarcely a month,” said Marriott, sobbing. “And how long have you lived with your lady?” “Six years!--And to part with her after all!--” “And for the sake of a macaw! And at a time when your lady is so much in want of you, Marriott! You know she cannot live long, and she has much to suffer before she dies, and if you leave her, and if in a fit of passion you betray the confidence she has placed in you, you will reproach yourself for it ever afterward. This bird--or all the birds in the world--will not be able to console you; for you are of an affectionate disposition, I know, and sincerely attached to your poor lady.” “That I am!--and to betray her!--Oh, Miss Portman, I would sooner cut off my hand than do it. And I have been tried more than my lady knows of, or you either, for Mr. Champfort, who is the greatest mischief-maker in the world, and is the cause, by not shutting the door, of all this dilemma; for now, ma’am, I’m convinced, by the tenderness of your speaking, that you are not the enemy to me I supposed, and I beg your pardon; but I was going to say that Mr. Champfort, who saw the _fracas_ between my lord and me, about the key and the door, the night of my lady’s accident, has whispered it about at Lady Singleton’s and every where--Mrs. Luttridge’s maid, ma’am, who is my cousin, has pestered me with so many questions and offers, from Mrs. Luttridge and Mrs. Freke, of any money, if I would only tell who was in the boudoir--and I have always answered, nobody--and I defy them to get any thing out of me. Betray my lady! I’d sooner cut my tongue out this minute! Can she have such a base opinion of me, or can you, ma’am?” “No, indeed, I am convinced that you are incapable of betraying her, Marriott; but in all probability after you have left her----” “If my lady would let me keep my macaw,” interrupted Marriott, “I should never think of leaving her.” “The macaw she will not suffer to remain in the house, nor is it reasonable that she should: it deprives her of sleep--it kept her awake three hours this morning.” Marriott was beginning the history of Champfort and the doors again; but Miss Portman stopped her by saying, “All this is past now. How much is due to you, Mrs. Marriott? Lady Delacour has commissioned me to pay you every thing that is due to you.” “Due to me! Lord bless me, ma’am, am I to go?” “Certainly, it was your own desire--it is consequently your lady’s: she is perfectly sensible of your attachment to her, and of your services, but she cannot suffer herself to be treated with disrespect. Here are fifty guineas, which she gives you as a reward for your past fidelity, not as a bribe to secure your future secresy. You are at liberty, she desires me to say, to tell her secret to the whole world, if you choose to do so.”