“Yes, I will make your peace, and you shall see Belinda smile upon you once more, upon condition,” continued Lady Delacour, speaking very quickly, as if she was hurried by the sound of people coming up stairs--“but we’ll talk of that another time.” “Nay, nay, my dear Lady Delacour, now, now,” said Clarence, seizing her hand.--“Upon condition! upon what condition?” “Upon condition that you do a little job for me--indeed for Belinda. She is to go with me to the birth-night, and she has often hinted to me that our horses are shockingly shabby for people of our condition. I know she wishes that upon such an occasion--her first appearance at court, you know--we should go in style. Now my dear positive lord has _said_ he will not let us have a pair of the handsomest horses I ever saw, which are at Tattersal’s, and on which Belinda, I know, has secretly set her heart, as I have openly, in vain.” “Your ladyship and Miss Portman cannot possibly set your hearts on any thing in vain--especially on any thing that it is in the power of Clarence Hervey to procure. Then,” added he, gallantly kissing her hand, “may I thus seal my treaty of peace?” “What audacity!--don’t you see these people coming in?” cried Lady Delacour; and she withdrew her hand, but with no great precipitation. She was evidently, “at this moment, as in all the past,” neither afraid nor ashamed that Mr. Hervey’s devotions to her should be paid in public. With much address she had satisfied herself as to his views with respect to Belinda. She was convinced that he had no immediate thoughts of matrimony; but that if he were condemned to marry, Miss Portman would be his wife. As this did not interfere with her plans, Lady Delacour was content. CHAPTER VI. WAYS AND MEANS. When Lady Delacour repeated to Miss Portman the message about “simplicity of mind and dignity of character,” she frankly said-- “Belinda, notwithstanding all this, observe, I’m determined to retain Clarence Hervey among the number of my public worshippers during my life--which you know cannot last long. After I am gone, my dear, he’ll be all your own, and of that I give you joy. Posthumous fame is a silly thing, but posthumous jealousy detestable.”