There is a certain class of people, who are incapable of generous confidence in their equals, but who are disposed to yield implicit credit to the underhand information of mean emissaries. Through the medium of Champfort and the _stupid maid_, Mrs. Freke had learned a confused story of a man’s footsteps having been heard in Lady Delacour’s boudoir, of his being let in by Marriott secretly, of his having remained locked up there for several hours, and of the maid’s having been turned away, merely because she innocently went to open the door whilst the gentleman was in concealment. Mrs. Freke was farther informed by the same unquestionable authority, that Lady Delacour had taken a house at Twickenham, for the express purpose of meeting her lover: that Miss Portman and Marriott were the only persons who were to be of this party of pleasure. Upon the faith of this intelligence, Mrs. Freke, who had accompanied Mrs. Luttridge to town, immediately repaired to Twickenham, to pay a visit to a third cousin, that she might have an opportunity of detecting the intrigues, and afterwards of publishing the disgrace, of her former friend. The desire of revenging herself upon Miss Portman, for having declined her civilities at Harrowgate, had also a powerful influence in stimulating her malicious activity. She knew that if it were proved that Belinda was the confidante of Lady Delacour’s intrigues, her reputation must be materially injured, and that the Percivals would then be as desirous to break off as they now were anxious to promote the match with Mr. Vincent. Charmed with this hope of a double triumph, the vindictive lady commenced her operations, nor was she ashamed to descend to the character of a spy. The general and convenient name of _frolic_, she thought, would cover every species of meanness. She swore that “it was charming fun to equip herself at night in men’s clothes, and to sally forth to reconnoitre the motions of the enemy.” By an unfrequented path she used to gain the window that looked into Lady Delacour’s bedchamber. This was the figure which appeared at night at a certain hour, and which, to her ladyship’s disturbed imagination, seemed to be the form of Colonel Lawless. There was, indeed, a resemblance in their size and persons, which favoured the delusion. For several nights Mrs. Freke paid these visits without obtaining any satisfaction; but this night she thought herself overpaid for her exertions, by the charming discovery which she fancied she had made. She mistook the surgeon for a lover of Lady Delacour’s; and she was hurrying home with the joyful intelligence, when she was caught in the gardener’s trap. The agony that she suffered was at first intense, but in a few hours the pain somewhat subsided; and in this interval of rest she turned to Belinda, and with a malicious smile said,--“Miss Portman, ‘tis fair I should pay for my peeping; but I shall not pay quite so dear for it as some of my friends.”