“Such happiness can be secured only,” resumed Belinda, “by a union with a man of sense and virtue.” “A man of sense and virtue, I suppose, means Mr. Vincent,” said Lady Delacour: “no doubt you have lately learned in the same sober style that a little love will suffice with a great deal of esteem.” “I hope I have learned lately that a great deal of esteem is the best foundation for a great deal of love.” “Possibly,” said Lady Delacour; “but we often see people working at the foundation all their lives without getting any farther.” “And those who build their castles of happiness in the air,” said Belinda, “are they more secure, wiser, or happier?” “Wiser! I know nothing about that,” said Lady Delacour; “but happier I do believe they are; for the castle-building is always a _labour of love_, but the foundation of drudgery is generally _love’s labour lost_. Poor Vincent will find it so.” “Perhaps not,” said Belinda; “for already his solid good qualities--” “Solid good qualities!” interrupted Lady Delacour: “I beg your pardon for interrupting you, but, my dear, you know we never fall in love with good qualities, except, indeed, when they are joined to an aquiline nose--oh! that aquiline nose of Mr. Vincent’s! I am more afraid of it than of all his solid good qualities. He has again, I acknowledge it, much the advantage of Clarence Hervey in personal accomplishments. But you are not a woman to be decided by personal accomplishments.” “And you will not allow me to be decided by solid good qualities,” said Belinda. “So by what must I be determined?” “By your heart, my dear; by your heart: trust your heart only.” “Alas!” said Belinda, “how many, many women have deplored their having trusted to their hearts only.” “_Their_ hearts! but I said _your_ heart: mind your pronouns, my dear; that makes all the difference. But, to be serious, tell me, do you really and _bona fide_, as my old uncle the lawyer used to say, love Mr. Vincent?” “No,” said Belinda, “I do not love him yet.” “But for that emphatic _yet_, how I should have worshipped you! I wish I could once clearly understand the state of your mind about Mr. Vincent, and then I should be able to judge how far I might indulge myself in raillery without being absolutely impertinent. So without intruding upon your confidence, tell me whatever you please.” “I will tell you all I know of my own mind,” replied Belinda, looking up with an ingenuous countenance. “I esteem Mr. Vincent; I am grateful to him for the proofs he has given me of steady attachment, and of confidence in my integrity. I like his manners and the frankness of his temper; but I do not yet love him, and till I do, no earthly consideration could prevail upon me to marry him.”