“Perfectly satisfactory, my dear Belinda; and yet I cannot be quite at ease whilst Mr. Vincent is present, and my poor Clarence absent: proximity is such a dangerous advantage even with the wisest of us. The absent lose favour so quickly in Cupid’s court, as in all other courts; and they are such victims to false reports and vile slanderers!” Belinda sighed. “Thank you for that sigh, my dear,” said Lady Delacour. “May I ask, would you, if you discovered that Mr. Vincent had a Virginia, discard him for ever from your thoughts?” “If I discovered that he had deceived and behaved dishonourably to any woman, I certainly should banish him for ever from my regard.” “With as much ease as you banished Clarence Hervey?” “With more, perhaps.” “Then you acknowledge--that’s all I want--that you liked Clarence better than you do Vincent?” “I acknowledge it,” said Belinda, colouring up to her temples; “but that time is entirely past, and I never look back to it.” “But if you were forced to look back to it, my dear,--if Clarence Hervey proposed for you,--would not you cast a lingering look behind?” “Let me beg of you, my dear Lady Delacour, as my friend,” cried Belinda, speaking and looking with great earnestness; “let me beg of you to forbear. Do not use your powerful influence over my heart to make me think of what I ought not to think, or do what I ought not to do. I have permitted Mr. Vincent to address me. You cannot imagine that I am so base as to treat him with duplicity, or that I consider him only as a _pis-aller_; no--I have treated, I will treat him honourably. He knows exactly the state of my mind. He shall have a fair trial whether he can win my love; the moment I am convinced that he cannot succeed, I will tell him so decidedly: but if ever I should feel for him that affection which is necessary for my happiness and his, I hope I shall without fear, even of Lady Delacour’s ridicule or displeasure, avow my sentiments, and abide by my choice.” “My dear, I admire you,” said Lady Delacour; “but I am incorrigible; I am not fit to hear myself convinced. After all, I am impelled by the genius of imprudence to tell you, that, in spite of Mr. Percival’s cure for _first loves_, I consider love as a distemper that can be had but once.” “As you acknowledge that you are not fit to hear yourself convinced,” said Belinda, “I will not argue this point with you.” “But you will allow,” said Lady Delacour, “as it is said or sung in Cupid’s calendar, that-- ‘Un peu d’amour, un peu de soin, Menent souvent un coeur bien loin;’” and she broke off the conversation by singing that beautiful French air. CHAPTER XXV. LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG.