“Scandal,” said Mr. Vincent, “does not seem to give you much pleasure, Miss Portman. You will be glad to hear that Mrs. Freke’s malice against poor Mr. Moreton has not ruined him. Do you know Mr. Percival, that he has just been presented to a good living by a generous young man, who heard of his excellent conduct?” “I am extremely glad of it,” said Mr. Percival. “Who is this generous young man? I should like to be acquainted with him.” “So should I,” said Mr. Vincent: “he is a Mr. Hervey.” “Clarence Hervey, perhaps?” “Yes, Clarence was his name.” “No man more likely to do a generous action than Clarence Hervey,” said Mr. Percival. “Nobody more likely to do a generous action than Mr. Hervey,” repeated Belinda, in rather a low tone. She could now praise Clarence Hervey without blushing, and she could think even of his generosity without partiality, though not without pleasure. By strength of mind, and timely exertion, she had prevented her prepossession from growing into a passion that might have made her miserable. Proud of this conquest over herself, she was now disposed to treat Mr. Vincent with more favour than usual. Self-complacency generally puts us in good-humour with our friends. After spending some pleasant hours in Lord C------‘s beautiful grounds, where the children explored to their satisfaction every dingle and bushy dell, they returned home in the cool of the evening. Mr. Vincent thought it the most delightful evening he had ever felt. “What! as charming as a West Indian evening?” said Mr. Percival. “This is more than I expected ever to hear you acknowledge in favour of England. Do you remember how you used to rave of the climate and of the prospects of Jamaica?” “Yes, but my taste has quite changed.” “I remember the time,” said Mr. Percival, “when you thought it impossible that your taste should ever change; when you told me that taste, whether for the beauties of animate or inanimate nature, was immutable.” “You and Miss Portman have taught me better sense. First loves are generally silly things,” added he, colouring a little. Belinda coloured also. “First loves,” continued Mr. Percival, “are not necessarily more foolish than others; but the chances are certainly against them. From poetry or romance, young people usually form their earlier ideas of love, before they have actually felt the passion; and the image which they have in their own minds of the _beau ideal_ is cast upon the first objects they afterward behold. This, if I may be allowed the expression, is Cupid’s Fata Morgana. Deluded mortals are in ecstasy whilst the illusion lasts, and in despair when it vanishes.” Mr. Percival appeared to be unconscious that what he was saying was any way applicable to Belinda. He addressed himself to Mr. Vincent solely, and she listened at her ease.