“Yes,” said Mr. Hervey, “her connexion with that Mrs. Freke hurt her more in the eyes of the world than she was aware of. It is tacitly understood by the public, that every lady goes bail for the character of her female friends. If Lady Delacour had been so fortunate as to meet with such a friend as Miss Portman in her early life, what a different woman she would have been! She once said some such thing to me herself, and she never appeared to me so amiable as at that moment.” Mr. Hervey pronounced these last words in a manner more than usually animated; and whilst he spoke, Belinda stooped to gather a sprig from a myrtle, which stood on the hearth. She perceived that the myrtle, which was planted in a large china vase, was propped up on one side with the broken bits of Sir Philip Baddely’s little stick: she took them up, and threw them out of the window. “Lady Delacour stuck those fragments there this morning,” said Clarence smiling, “as trophies. She told me of Miss Portman’s victory over the heart of Sir Philip Baddely; and Miss Portman should certainly have allowed them to remain there, as indisputable evidence in favour of the baronet’s taste and judgment.” Clarence Hervey appeared under some embarrassment, and seemed to be restrained by some secret cause from laying open his real feelings: his manner varied continually. Belinda could not avoid seeing his perplexity--she had recourse again to the gold fishes and to Helena: upon these subjects they could both speak very fluently. Lady Delacour made her appearance by the time that Clarence had finished repeating the Abbé Nollet’s experiments, which he had heard from his friend Doctor X----. “Now, Miss Portman, the transmission of sound in water,” said Clarence---- “Deep in philosophy, I protest!” said Lady Delacour, as she came in. “What is this about the transmission of sound in water?--Ha! whence come these pretty gold fishes?” “These gold fishes,” said Belinda, “are come to console Marriott for the loss of her macaw.” “Thank you, my dear Belinda, for these mute comforters,” said her ladyship; “the very best things you could have chosen.” “I have not the merit of the choice,” said Belinda, “but I am heartily glad that you approve of it.” “Pretty creatures,” said Lady Delacour: “no fish were ever so pretty since the days of the prince of the Black Islands in the Arabian Tales. And am I obliged to you, Clarence, for these subjects?” “No; I have only had the honour of bringing them to your ladyship from----”