“I have explained to Mr. Vincent,” interrupted Belinda, “every thing that he could wish to know on that subject, and I now wish you to tell him that I faithfully remembered my promise to return to Oakly-park, and that we were actually preparing for the journey.” “Look here, sir,” cried Lady Delacour, opening the door of her dressing-room, in which Marriott was upon her knees, locking a trunk, “here’s dreadful note of preparation.” “You are a happier man than you yet know, Mr. Vincent,” continued Lady Delacour; “for I can tell you, that some persuasion, some raillery, and some wit, I flatter myself, have been used, to detain Miss Portman from you.” “From Oakly-park,” interrupted Belinda. “From Oakly-park, &c. a few days longer. Shall I be frank with you, Mr. Vincent?--Yes, for I cannot help it--I am not of the nature of anonymous letter-writers; I cannot, either secretly or publicly, sign or say myself a _sincere friend_, without being one to the utmost extent of my influence. I never give my vote without my interest, nor my interest without my vote. Now Clarence Hervey is my friend. Start not at all, sir,--you have no reason; for if he is my friend, Miss Portman is yours: which has the better bargain? But, as I was going to tell you, Mr. Clarence Hervey is my friend, and I am his. My vote, interest, and influence, have consequently been all in his favour. I had reason to believe that he has long admired _the dignity_ of Miss Portman’s _mind, and the simplicity of her character_,” continued her ladyship, with an arch look at Belinda; “and though he was too much a man of genius to begin with the present tense of the indicative mood, ‘I love,’ yet I was, and am, convinced, that he does love her.” “Can you, dear Lady Delacour,” cried Belinda, “speak in this manner, and recollect all we heard from Marriott this morning? And to what purpose all this?” “To what purpose, my dear? To convince your friend, Mr. Vincent, that I am neither fool nor knave; but that I deal fairly by you, by him, and by all the world. Mr. Hervey’s conduct towards Miss Portman has, I acknowledge, sir, been undecided. Some circumstances have lately come to my knowledge which throw doubts upon his honour and integrity--doubts which, I firmly believe, he will clear up to _my_ satisfaction at least, as soon as I see him, or as soon as it is in his power; with this conviction, and believing, as I do, that no man upon earth is so well suited to my friend,--pardon me, Mr. Vincent, if my wishes differ from yours: though my sincerity may give you present, it may save you from future, pain.” “Your ladyship’s sincerity, whatever pain it may give me, I admire,” said Mr. Vincent, with some pride in his manner; “but I see that I must despair of the honour of your ladyship’s congratulations.”