“What is the matter with ye both? How he stands!” said Lady Delacour, turning to Mr. Hervey. “Did you never see a woman blush before?--or did you never say or do any thing to make a woman blush before? Will you give Miss Portman a glass of water?--there’s some behind you on that sideboard, man!--but he has neither eyes, ears, nor understanding.--Do go about your business,” said her ladyship, pushing him towards the door--“Do go about your business, for I haven’t common patience with you: on my conscience I believe the man’s in love--and not with me! That’s sal-volatile for you, child, I perceive,” continued she to Belinda. “O, you can walk now--but remember you are on slippery ground: remember Clarence Hervey is not a marrying man, and you are not a married woman.” “It is perfectly indifferent to me, madam,” Belinda said, with a voice and look of proud indignation. “Lady Delacour, your carriage has drawn up,” said Clarence Hervey, returning to the door, but without entering. “Then put this ‘perfectly well’ and ‘perfectly indifferent’ lady into it,” said Lady Delacour. He obeyed without uttering a syllable. “Dumb! absolutely dumb! I protest,” said her ladyship, as he handed her in afterwards. “Why, Clarence, the casting of your serpent’s skin seems to have quite changed your nature--nothing but the simplicity of the dove left; and I expect to hear, you cooing presently--don’t you, Miss Portman?” She ordered the coachman to drive to the Pantheon. “To the Pantheon! I was in hopes your ladyship would have the goodness to set me down at home; for indeed I shall be a burden to you and everybody else at the masquerade.” “If you have made any appointment for the rest of the evening in Berkley-square, I’ll set you down, certainly, if you insist upon it, my dear--for punctuality is a virtue; but prudence is a virtue too, in a young lady; who, as your aunt Stanhope would say, has to _establish_ herself in the world. Why these tears, Belinda?--or are they tears? for by the light of the lamps I can scarcely tell; though I’ll swear I saw the handkerchief at the eyes. What is the meaning of all this? You’d best trust me--for I know as much of men and manners as your aunt Stanhope at least; and in one word, you have nothing to fear from me, and every thing to hope from yourself, if you will only dry up your tears, _keep on your mask_, and take my advice; you’ll find it as good as your aunt Stanhope’s.” “My aunt Stanhope’s! O,” cried Belinda, “never, never more will I take such advice; never more will I expose myself to be insulted as a female adventurer.--Little did I know in what a light I appeared; little did I know what _gentlemen_ thought of my aunt Stanhope, of my cousins, of myself!”