“With me, Monsieur Champfort? then you will be so good as to tell Lord Delacour I am here.” “And that _I_ am not here, Champfort; for I must be gone to dress.” She rose hastily to leave the room, but Miss Portman caught her hand: “You won’t go, I hope, Lady Delacour,” said she, “till I have finished my long story?” Lady Delacour sat down again, ashamed of her own embarrassment. Whether this be art, innocence, or assurance, thought she, I cannot tell; but we shall see. Lord Delacour now came in, with a half-unfolded newspaper, and a packet of letters in his hand. He came to apologize to Miss Portman for having, by mistake, broken the seal of a letter to her, which had been sent under cover to him. He had simply asked Champfort whether the ladies were at home, that he might not have the trouble of going up stairs if they were out. Monsieur Champfort possessed, in an eminent degree, the mischievous art of appearing mysterious about the simplest things in the world. “Though I was so thoughtless as to break the seal before I looked at the direction of the letter,” said Lord Delacour, “I assure you I went no farther than the first three words; for I knew ‘my dear niece’ could not possibly mean me.” He gave Miss Portman the letter, and left the room. This explanation was perfectly satisfactory to Belinda; but Lady Delacour, prejudiced by the hesitation of Champfort, could not help suspecting that this letter was merely the ostensible cause of his lordship’s visit. “From my aunt Stanhope,” said Miss Portman, as she opened her letter. She folded it up again after glancing over the first page, and put it into her pocket, colouring deeply. All Lady Delacour’s suspicions about Mrs. Stanhope’s epistolary counsels and secrets instantly recurred, with almost the force of conviction to her mind. “Miss Portman,” said she, “I hope your politeness to me does not prevent you from reading your letter? Some ceremonious people think it vastly rude to read a letter in company; but I am not one of them: I can write whilst you read, for I have fifty notes and more to answer. So pray read your letter at your ease.” Belinda had but just unfolded her letter again, when Lord Delacour returned, followed by Champfort, who brought with him a splendid hammer-cloth. “Here, my dear Lady Delacour,” said his lordship, “is a little surprise for you: here is a new hammer-cloth, of my bespeaking and taste, which I hope you will approve of.” “Very handsome, upon my word!” said Lady Delacour, coldly, and she fixed her eyes upon the fringe, which was black and orange: “Miss Portman’s taste, I see!” “Did you not say black and orange fringe, my dear?” “No. I said blue and white, my lord.”