ADVICE.
The next morning Mr. Hervey called on Dr. X----, and begged that he
would accompany him to Lady Delacour’s.
“To be introduced to your tragic muse?” said the doctor.
“Yes,” said Mr. Hervey: “I must have your opinion of her before I devote
myself.”
“My opinion! but of whom?--Of Lady Delacour?”
“No; but of a young lady whom you will see with her.”
“Is she handsome?”
“Beautiful!”
“And young?”
“And young.”
“And graceful?”
“The most graceful person you ever beheld.”
“Young, beautiful, graceful; then the deuce take me,” said Dr. X----,
“if I give you my opinion of her: for the odds are, that she has a
thousand faults, at least, to balance these perfections.”
“A thousand faults! a charitable allowance,” said Clarence, smiling.
“There now,” said Dr. X----
‘Touch him, and no minister’s so sore.’
To punish you for wincing at my first setting out, I promise you, that
if the lady have a million of faults, each of them high as huge Olympus,
I will see them as with the eye of a flatterer--not of a friend.”
“I defy you to be so good or so bad as your word, doctor,” said Hervey.
“You have too much wit to make a good flatterer.”
“And perhaps you think too much to make a good friend,” said Dr. X----.
“Not so,” said Clarence: “I would at any time rather be cut by a sharp
knife than by a blunt one. But, my dear doctor, I hope you will not be
prejudiced against Belinda, merely because she is with Lady Delacour;
for to my certain knowledge, she in not under her ladyship’s influence.
She judges and acts for herself, of which I have had an instance.”
“Very possibly!” interrupted Dr. X----. “But before we go any farther,
will you please to tell me of what Belinda you are talking?”
“Belinda Portman. I forgot that I had not told you.”
“Miss Portman, a niece of Mrs. Stanhope’s?”
“Yes, but do not be prejudiced against her on that account,” said
Clarence, eagerly, “though I was at first myself.”
“Then you will excuse my following your example instead of your
precepts.”
“No,” said Clarence, “for my precepts are far better than my example.”
Lady Delacour received Dr. X---- most courteously, and thanked Mr.
Hervey for introducing to her a gentleman with whom she had long desired
to converse. Dr. X---- had a great literary reputation, and she saw
that he was a perfectly well-bred man; consequently she was ambitious
of winning his admiration. She perceived also that he had considerable
influence with Clarence Hervey, and this was a sufficient reason to make
her wish for his good opinion. Belinda was particularly pleased with his
manners and conversation; she saw that he paid her much attention, and
she was desirous that he should think favourably of her; but she had
the good sense and good taste to avoid a display of her abilities and
accomplishments. A sensible man, who has any knowledge of the world and
talents for conversation, can easily draw out the knowledge of those
with whom he converses. Dr. X---- possessed this power in a superior
degree.
“Well,” cried Clarence, when their visit was over, “what is your opinion
of Lady Delacour?”
“I am ‘blasted with excess of light,’” said the doctor.
“Her ladyship is certainly very brilliant,” said Clarence, “but I hope
that Miss Portman did not overpower you.”
“No--I turned my eyes from Lady Delacour upon Miss Portman, as a painter
turns his eyes upon mild green, to rest them, when they have been
dazzled by glaring colours.
‘She yields her charms of mind with sweet delay.’”
“I was afraid,” said Hervey, “that you might think her manners too
reserved and cold: they are certainly become more so than they used to
be. But so much the better; by and by we shall find beautiful flowers
spring up from beneath the snow.’”
“A very poetical hope,” said Dr. X----; “but in judging of the human
character, we must not entirely trust to analogies and allusions taken
from the vegetable creation.”
“What!” cried Clarence Hervey, looking eagerly in the doctor’s eyes,
“what do you mean? I am afraid you do not approve of Belinda.”
“Your fears are almost as precipitate as your hopes, my good sir: but to
put you out of pain, I will tell you, that I approve of all I have seen
of this young lady, but that it is absolutely out of my power to form a
decisive judgment of a woman’s temper and character in the course of a
single morning visit. Women, you know, as well as men, often speak with
one species of enthusiasm, and act with another. I must see your Belinda
act, I must study her, before I can give you my final judgment. Lady
Delacour has honoured me with her commands to go to her as often as
possible. For your sake, my dear Hervey, I shall obey her ladyship most
punctually, that I may have frequent opportunities of seeing your Miss
Portman.”
Clarence expressed his gratitude with much energy, for this instance
of the doctor’s friendship. Belinda, who had been entertained by Dr.
X----‘s conversation during this first visit, was more and more
delighted with his company as she became more acquainted with his
understanding and character. She felt that he unfolded her powers, and
that with the greatest politeness and address he raised her confidence
in herself, without ever descending to flattery. By degrees she
learned to look upon him as a friend; she imparted to him with great
ingenuousness her opinions on various subjects, and she was both amused
and instructed by his observations on the characters and manners of the
company who frequented Lady Delacour’s assemblies. She did not judge of
the doctor’s sincerity merely by the kindness he showed her, but by his
conduct towards others.
One night, at a select party at Lady Delacour’s, a Spanish gentleman
was amusing the company with some anecdotes, to prove the extraordinary
passion which some of his countrymen formerly showed for the game of
chess. He mentioned families, in which unfinished games, bequeathed by
will, had descended from father to son, and where victory was doubtful
for upwards of a century.
Mr. Hervey observed, that gaining a battle was, at that time, so common
to the court of Spain, that a victory at chess seemed to confer more
_éclat_; for that an abbé, by losing adroitly a game at chess to the
Spanish minister, obtained a cardinal’s hat.
The foreigner was flattered by the manner in which Hervey introduced
this slight circumstance, and he directed to him his conversation,
speaking in French and Italian successively; he was sufficiently skilled
in both languages, but Clarence spoke them better. Till he appeared,
the foreigner was the principal object of attention, but he was soon
eclipsed by Mr. Hervey. Nothing amusing or instructive that could be
said upon the game of chess escaped him, and the literary ground, which
the slow Don would have taken some hours to go regularly over, our
hero traversed in a few minutes. From Twiss to Vida, from Irwin to Sir
William Jones, from Spain to India, he passed with admirable celerity,
and seized all that could adorn his course from Indian Antiquities or
Asiatic Researches.
By this display of knowledge he surprised even his friend Dr. X----.
The ladies admired his taste as a poet, the gentlemen his accuracy as a
critic; Lady Delacour loudly applauded, and Belinda silently approved.
Clarence was elated. The Spanish gentleman, to whom he had just quoted
a case in point from Vida’s Scacchia, asked him if he were as perfect
in the practice as in the theory of the game. Clarence was too proud of
excelling in every thing to decline the Spaniard’s challenge. They sat
down to chess. Lady Delacour, as they ranged the pieces on the board,
cried, “Whoever wins shall be my knight; and a silver chess-man shall be
his prize. Was it not Queen Elizabeth who gave a silver chess-man to one
of her courtiers as a mark of her royal favour? I am ashamed to imitate
such a pedantic coquet--but since I have said it, how can I retract?”
“Impossible! impossible!” cried Clarence Hervey: “a silver chess-man be
our prize; and if I win it, like the gallant Raleigh, I will wear it in
my cap; and what proud Essex shall dare to challenge it?”
The combat now began--the spectators were silent. Clarence made an error
in his first move, for his attention was distracted by seeing Belinda
behind his adversary’s chair. The Spaniard was deceived by this mistake
into a contemptuous opinion of his opponent--Belinda changed her
place--Clarence recovered his presence of mind, and convinced him that
he was not a man to be despised. The combat was long doubtful, but at
length to the surprise of all present, Clarence Hervey was victorious.
Exulting in his success, he looked round for Lady Delacour, from whom he
expected the honours of his triumph. She had left the room, but soon she
returned, dressed in the character of Queen Elizabeth, in which she had
once appeared at a masquerade, with a large ruff, and all the costume of
the times.
Clarence Hervey, throwing himself at her feet, addressed her in that
high-flown style which her majesty was wont to hear from the gallant
Raleigh, or the accomplished Essex.
Soon the coquetry of the queen entirely conquered her prudery; and
the favoured courtier, evidently elated by his situation, was as
enthusiastic as her majesty’s most insatiable vanity could desire. The
characters were well supported; both the actor and actress were
highly animated, and seemed so fully possessed by their parts as to
be insensible to the comments that were made upon the scene. Clarence
Hervey was first recalled to himself by the deep blush which he saw on
Belinda’s cheek, when Queen Elizabeth addressed her as one of her maids
of honour, of whom she affected to be jealous. He was conscious that he
had been hurried by the enthusiasm of the moment farther than he either
wished or intended. It was difficult to recede, when her majesty seemed
disposed to advance; but Sir Walter Raleigh, with much presence of mind,
turned to the foreigner, whom he accosted as the Spanish ambassador.
“Your excellency sees,” said he, “how this great queen turns the heads
of her faithful subjects, and afterwards has the art of paying them
with nothing but words. Has the new world afforded you any coin half so
valuable?”
The Spanish gentleman’s grave replies to this playful question gave
a new turn to the conversation, and relieved Clarence Hervey from his
embarrassment. Lady Delacour, though still in high spirits, was easily
diverted to other objects. She took the Spaniard with her to the
next room, to show him a picture of Mary, Queen of Scots. The company
followed her--Clarence Hervey remained with Dr. X---- and Belinda, who
had just asked the doctor, to teach her the moves at chess.
“Lady Delacour has charming spirits,” said Clarence Hervey; “they
inspire every body with gaiety.”
“Every body! they incline me more to melancholy than mirth,” said Dr.
X----. “These high spirits do not seem quite natural. The vivacity of
youth and of health, Miss Portman, always charms me; but this gaiety of
Lady Delacour’s does not appear to me that of a sound mind in a sound
body.”
The doctor’s penetration went so near the truth, that Belinda, afraid
of betraying her friend’s secrets, never raised her eyes from the
chess-board whilst he spoke, but went on setting up the fallen castles,
and bishops, and kings, with expeditious diligence.
“You are putting the bishop into the place of the knight,” said
Clarence.
“Lady Delacour,” continued the doctor, “seems to be in a perpetual
fever, either of mind or body--I cannot tell which--and as a
professional man, I really have some curiosity to determine the
question. If I could feel her pulse, I could instantly decide; but I
have heard her say that she has a horror against having her pulse felt,
and a lady’s horror is invincible, by reason--”
“But not by address,” said Clarence. “I can tell you a method of
counting her pulse, without her knowing it, without her seeing you,
without your seeing her.”
“Indeed!” said Dr. X----, smiling; “that may be a useful secret in my
profession; pray impart it to me--you who excel in every thing.”
“Are you in earnest, Mr. Hervey?” said Belinda.
“Perfectly in earnest--my secret is quite simple. Look through the door
at the shadow of Queen Elizabeth’s ruff--observe how it vibrates; the
motion as well as the figure is magnified in the shadow. Cannot you
count every pulsation distinctly?”
“I can,” said Dr. X----, “and I give you credit for making an ingenious
use of a trifling observation.” The doctor paused and looked round.
“Those people cannot hear what we are saying, I believe?”
“Oh, no,” said Belinda, “they are intent upon themselves.” Doctor
X---- fixed his eyes mildly upon Clarence Hervey, and exclaimed in an
earnest friendly tone--“What a pity, Mr. Hervey, that a young man
of your talents and acquirements, a man who might be any thing,
should--pardon the expression--choose to be--nothing; should waste upon
petty objects powers suited to the greatest; should lend his soul
to every contest for frivolous superiority, when the same energy
concentrated might ensure honourable pre-eminence among the first men
in his country. Shall he who might not only distinguish himself in any
science or situation, who might not only acquire personal fame, but,
oh, far more noble motive! who might be permanently useful to his
fellow-creatures, content himself with being the evanescent amusement
of a drawing-room?--Shall one, who might be great in public, or happy
in private life, waste in this deplorable manner the best years of his
existence--time that can never be recalled?--This is declamation!--No:
it is truth put into the strongest language that I have power to use, in
the hope of making some impression: I speak from my heart, for I have a
sincere regard for you, Mr. Hervey, and if I have been impertinent, you
must forgive me.”
“Forgive you!” cried Clarence Hervey, taking Dr. X---- by the hand, “I
think you a real friend; you shall have the best thanks not in words,
but in actions: you have roused my ambition, and I will pursue noble
ends by noble means. A few years have been sacrificed; but the lessons
that they have taught me remain. I cannot, presumptuous as I am,
flatter myself that my exertions can be of any material utility to my
fellow-creatures, but what I can do I will, my excellent friend! If I be
hereafter either successful in public, or happy in private life, it is
to you I shall owe it.”
Belinda was touched by the candour and good sense with which Clarence
Hervey spoke. His character appeared in a new light: she was proud of
her own judgment, in having discerned his merit, and for a moment she
permitted herself to feel “unreproved pleasure in his company.”
The next morning, Sir Philip Baddely and Mr. Rochfort called at Lady
Delacour’s--Mr. Hervey was present--her ladyship was summoned to Mrs.
Franks, and Belinda was left with these gentlemen.
“Why, damme, Clary! you have been a lost man,” cried Sir Philip, “ever
since you were drowned. Damme, why did not you come to dine with us
that day, now I recollect it? We were all famously merry; but for your
comfort, Clarence, we missed you cursedly, and were damned sorry you
ever took that unlucky jump into the Serpentine river--damned sorry,
were not we, Rochfort?”
“Oh,” said Clarence, in an ironical tone, “you need no vouchers to
convince me of the reality of your sorrow. You know I can never forget
your jumping so courageously into the river, to save the life of your
friend.”
“Oh, pooh! damn it,” said Sir Philip, “what signifies who pulled you
out, now you are safe and sound? By-the-bye, Clary, did you ever quiz
that doctor, as I desired you? No, that I’m sure you didn’t; but I think
he has made a quiz of you: for, damme, I believe you have taken such a
fancy to the old quizzical fellow, that you can’t live without him. Miss
Portman, don’t you admire Hervey’s taste?”
“In this instance I certainly do admire Mr. Hervey’s taste,” said
Belinda, “for the best of all possible reasons, because it entirely
agrees with my own.”
“Very extraordinary, faith,” said Sir Philip.
“And what the devil can you find to like in him, Clary?” continued Mr.
Rochfort, “for one wouldn’t be so rude to put that question to a lady.
Ladies, you know, are never to be questioned about their likings and
dislikings. Some have pet dogs, some have pet cats: then why not a _pet
quiz?_”
“Ha! ha! ha! that’s a good one, Rochfort--a pet quiz!--Ha! ha! ha! Dr.
X---- shall be Miss Portman’s pet quiz. Put it about, put it about,
Rochfort,” continued the witty baronet, and he and his facetious
companion continued to laugh as long as they possibly could at this
happy hit.
Belinda, without being in the least discomposed by their insolent folly,
as soon as they had finished laughing, very coolly observed, that she
could have no objection to give her reasons for preferring Dr. X----‘s
company but for fear they might give offence to Sir Philip and his
friends. She then defended the doctor with so much firmness, and yet
with so much propriety, that Clarence Hervey was absolutely enchanted
with her, and with his own penetration in having discovered her real
character, notwithstanding her being Mrs. Stanhope’s niece.
“I never argue, for my part,” cried Mr. Rochfort: “‘pon honour, ‘tis a
deal too much trouble. A lady, a handsome lady, I mean, is always in the
right with me.”
“But as to you, Hervey,” said Sir Philip, “damme, do you know, my boy,
that our club has come to a determination to black-ball you, if you keep
company with this famous doctor?”
“Your club, Sir Philip, will do me honour by such an ostracism.”
“Ostracism!” repeated Sir Philip.--“In plain English, does that mean
that you choose to be black-balled by us? Why, damn it, Clary, you’ll
be nobody. But follow your own genius--damn me, if I take it upon me to
understand your men of genius--they are in the Serpentine river one day,
and in the clouds the next: so fare ye well, Clary. I expect to see you
a doctor of physic, or a methodist parson, soon, damn me if I don’t:
so fare ye well, Clary. Is black-ball your last word? or will you think
better on’t, and give up the doctor?”
“I can never give up Dr. X----‘s friendship--I would sooner be
black-balled by every club in London. The good lesson you gave me, Sir
Philip, the day I was fool enough to jump into the Serpentine river, has
made me wiser for life. I know, for I have felt, the difference between
real friends and fashionable acquaintance. Give up Dr. X----! Never!
never!”
“Then fare you well, Clary,” said Sir Philip, “you’re no longer one of
us.”
“Then fare ye well, Clary, you’re no longer the man for me,” said
Rochfort.
“_Tant pis_, and _tant mieux_” said Clarence, and so they parted.
As they left the room, Clarence Hervey involuntarily turned to Belinda,
and he thought that he read in her ingenuous, animated countenance, full
approbation of his conduct.
“Hist! are they gone? quite gone?” said Lady Delacour, entering the room
from an adjoining apartment; “they have stayed an unconscionable time.
How much I am obliged to Mrs. Franks for detaining me! I have escaped
their vapid impertinence; and in truth, this morning I have such a
multiplicity of business, that I have scarcely a moment even for wit
and Clarence Hervey. Belinda, my dear, will you have the charity to look
over some of these letters for me, which, as Marriott tells me, have
been lying in my writing-table this week--expecting, most unreasonably,
that I should have the grace to open them? We are always punished for
our indolence, as your friend Dr. X---- said the other day: if we suffer
business to accumulate, it drifts with every ill wind like snow, till
at last an avalanche of it comes down at once, and quite overwhelms us.
Excuse me, Clarence,” continued her ladyship, as she opened her letters,
“this is very rude: but I know I have secured my pardon from you by
remembering your friend’s wit--wisdom, I should say: how seldom are
wit and wisdom joined! They might have been joined in Lady Delacour,
perhaps--there’s vanity!--if she had early met with such a friend as Dr.
X----; but it’s too late now,” said she, with a deep sigh.
Clarence Hervey heard it, and it made a great impression upon his
benevolent imagination. “Why too late?” said he to himself. “Mrs.
Margaret Delacour is mistaken, if she thinks this woman wants
sensibility.”
“What have you got there, Miss Portman?” said Lady Delacour, taking from
Belinda’s hand one of the letters which she had begged her to look
over: “something wondrous pathetic, I should guess, by your countenance.
‘_Helena Delacour_.’ Oh! read it to yourself, my dear--a school-girl’s
letter is a thing I abominate--I make it a rule never to read Helena’s
epistles.”
“Let me prevail upon your ladyship to make an exception to the general
rule then,” said Belinda; “I can assure you this is not a common
school-girl’s letter: Miss Delacour seems to inherit her mother’s
‘_eloquence de billet_.’”
“Miss Portman seems to possess, by inheritance, by instinct, by magic,
or otherwise, powers of persuasion, which no one can resist. There’s
compliment for compliment, my dear. Is there any thing half so well
turned in Helena’s letter? Really, ‘tis vastly well,” continued her
ladyship, as she read the letter: “where did the little gipsy learn to
write so charmingly? I protest I should like of all things to have her
at home with me this summer--the 21st of June--well, after the birthday,
I shall have time to think about it. But then, we shall be going out of
town, and at Harrowgate I should not know what to do with her; she had
better, much better, go to her humdrum Aunt Margaret’s, as she always
does--she is a fixture in Grosvenor-square. These stationary good
people, these zoophite friends, are sometimes very convenient; and Mrs.
Margaret Delacour is the most unexceptionable zoophite in the creation.
She has, it is true, an antipathy to me, because I’m of such a different
nature from herself; but then her antipathy does not extend to my
offspring: she is kind beyond measure to Helena, on purpose, I believe,
to provoke me. Now I provoke her in my turn, by never being provoked,
and she saves me a vast deal of trouble, for which she is overpaid by
the pleasure of abusing me. This is the way of the world, Clarence.
Don’t look so serious--you are not come yet to daughters and sons, and
schools and holidays, and all the evils of domestic life.”
“Evils!” repeated Clarence Hervey, in a tone which surprised her
ladyship. She looked immediately with a significant smile at Belinda.
“Why do not you echo _evils_, Miss Portman?”
“Pray, Lady Delacour,” interrupted Clarence Hervey, “when do you go to
Harrowgate?”
“What a sudden transition!” said Lady Delacour. “What association of
ideas could just at that instant take you to Harrowgate? When do I go to
Harrowgate? Immediately after the birthday, I believe we shall--I advise
you to be of the party.”
“Your ladyship does me a great deal of honour,” said Hervey: “I shall,
if it be possible, do myself the honour of attending you.”
And soon after this arrangement was made, Mr. Hervey took his leave.
“Well, my dear, are you still poring over that letter of Helena’s?” said
Lady Delacour to Miss Portman.
“I fancy your ladyship did not quite finish it,” said Belinda.
“No; I saw something about the Leverian Museum, and a swallow’s nest in
a pair of garden-shears; and I was afraid I was to have a catalogue of
curiosities, for which I have little taste and less time.”
“You did not see, then, what Miss Delacour says of the lady who took her
to that Museum?”
“Not I. What lady? her Aunt Margaret?”
“No; Mrs. Margaret Delacour, she says, has been so ill for some time
past, that she goes no where but to Lady Anne Percival’s.”
“Poor woman,” said Lady Delacour, “she will die soon, and then I shall
have Helena upon my hands, unless some other kind friend takes a fancy
to her. Who is this lady that has carried her to the Leverian Museum?”
“Lady Anne Percival; of whom she speaks with so much gratitude and
affection, that I quite long----”
“Lord bless me!” interrupted Lady Delacour, “Lady Anne Percival! Helena
has mentioned this Lady Anne Percival to me before, I recollect, in some
of her letters.”
“Then you did read some of her letters?”
“Half!--I never read more than half, upon my word,” said Lady Delacour,
laughing.
“Why will you delight in making yourself appear less good than you are,
my dear Lady Delacour?” said Belinda, taking her hand.
“Because I hate to be like other people,” said her ladyship, “who
delight in making themselves appear better than they are. But I was
going to tell you, that I do believe I did provoke Percival by marrying
Lord Delacour: I cannot tell you how much this Mea delights me--I am
sure that the man has a lively remembrance of me, or else he would never
make his wife take so much notice of my daughter.”
“Surely, your ladyship does not think,” said Belinda, “that a wife is a
being whose actions are necessarily governed by a husband.”
“Not necessarily--but accidentally. When a lady accidentally sets up for
being a good wife, she must of course love, honour, and obey. Now, you
understand, I am not in the least obliged to Lady Anne for her kindness
to Helena, because it all goes under the head of obedience, in my
imagination; and her ladyship is paid for it by an accession of
character: she has the reward of having it said, ‘Oh, Lady Anne Percival
is the best wife in the world!’--‘Oh, Lady Anne Percival is quite a
pattern woman!’ I hate pattern women. I hope I may never see Lady
Anne; for I’m sure I should detest her beyond all things living--Mrs.
Luttridge not excepted.”
Belinda was surprised and shocked at the malignant vehemence with which
her ladyship uttered these words; it was in vain, however, that she
remonstrated on the injustice of predetermining to detest Lady Anne,
merely because she had shown kindness to Helena, and because she bore a
high character. Lady Delacour was a woman who never listened to reason,
or who listened to it only that she might parry it by wit. Upon this
occasion, her wit had not its usual effect upon Miss Portman; instead of
entertaining, it disgusted her.
“You have called me your friend, Lady Delacour,” said she; “I should but
ill deserve that name, if I had not the courage to speak the truth to
you--if I had not the courage to tell you when I think you are wrong.”
“But I have not the courage to hear you, my dear,” said Lady Delacour,
stopping her ears. “So your conscience may be at ease; you may suppose
that you have said every thing that is wise, and good, and proper, and
sublime, and that you deserve to be called the best of friends; you
shall enjoy the office of censor to Lady Delacour, and welcome; but
remember, it is a sinecure place, though I will pay you with my love and
esteem to any extent you please. You sigh--for my folly. Alas! my dear,
‘tis hardly worth while--my follies will soon be at an end. Of what use
could even the wisdom of Solomon be to me now? If you have any humanity,
you will not force me to reflect: whilst I yet live, I must _keep it
up_ with incessant dissipation--the teetotum keeps upright only while it
spins: so let us talk of the birthnight, or the new play that we are to
see to-night, or the ridiculous figure Lady H---- made at the concert;
or let us talk of Harrowgate, or what you will.”
Pity succeeded to disgust and displeasure in Belinda’s mind, and she
could hardly refrain from tears, whilst she saw this unhappy creature,
with forced smiles, endeavour to hide the real anguish of her soul: she
could only say, “But, my dear Lady Delacour, do not you think that your
little Helena, who seems to have a most affectionate disposition, would
add to your happiness at home?”
“Her affectionate disposition can be nothing to me,” said Lady Delacour.
Belinda felt a hot tear drop upon her hand, which lay upon Lady
Delacour’s lap.
“Can you wonder,” continued her ladyship, hastily wiping away the tear
which she had let fall; “can you wonder that I should talk of detesting
Lady Anne Percival? You see she has robbed me of the affections of my
child. Helena asks to come home: yes, but how does she ask it? Coldly,
formally,--as a duty. But look at the end of her letter; I have read
it all--every bitter word of it I have tasted. How differently she
writes--look even at the flowing hand--the moment she begins to speak of
Lady Anne Percival; then her soul breaks out: ‘Lady Anne has offered
to take her to Oakly-park--she should be extremely happy to go, if I
please.’ Yes, let her go; let her go as far from me as possible; let her
never, never see her wretched mother more!--Write,” said Lady Delacour,
turning hastily to Belinda, “write in my name, and tell her to go to
Oakly-park, and to be happy.”
“But why should you take it for granted that she cannot be happy with
you?” said Belinda. “Let us see her--let us try the experiment.”
“No,” said Lady Delacour; “no--it is too late: I will never condescend
in my last moments to beg for that affection to which it may be thought
I have forfeited my natural claim.”
Pride, anger, and sorrow, struggled in her countenance as she spoke. She
turned her face from Belinda, and walked out of the room with dignity.
Nothing remains for me to do, thought Belinda, but to sooth this haughty
spirit: all other hope, I see, is vain.
At this moment Clarence Hervey, who had no suspicion that the gay,
brilliant Lady Delacour was sinking into the grave, had formed a design
worthy of his ardent and benevolent character. The manner in which her
ladyship had spoken of his friend Dr. X----, the sigh which she gave
at the reflection that she might have been a very different character
if she had early had a sensible friend, made a great impression upon Mr.
Hervey. Till then, he had merely considered her ladyship as an object
of amusement, and an introduction to high life; but he now felt so much
interested for her, that he determined to exert all his influence to
promote her happiness. He knew _that_ influence to be considerable: not
that he was either coxcomb or dupe enough to imagine that Lady Delacour
was in love with him; he was perfectly sensible that her only wish was
to obtain his admiration, and he resolved to show her that it could no
longer be secured without deserving his esteem. Clarence Hervey was
a thoroughly generous young man: capable of making the greatest
sacrifices, when encouraged by the hope of doing good, he determined
to postpone the declaration of his attachment to Belinda, that he might
devote himself entirely to his new project. His plan was to wean Lady
Delacour by degrees from dissipation, by attaching her to her daughter,
and to Lady Anne Percival. He was sanguine in all his hopes, and rapid,
but not unthinking, in all his decisions. From Lady Delacour he went
immediately to Dr. X----, to whom he communicated his designs.
“I applaud your benevolent intentions,” said the doctor: “but have
you really the presumption to hope, that an ingenuous young man of
four-and-twenty can reform a veteran coquet of four-and-thirty?”
“Lady Delacour is not yet thirty,” said Clarence; “but the older she
is, the better the chance of her giving up a losing game. She has an
admirable understanding, and she will soon--I mean as soon as she is
acquainted with Lady Anne Percival--discover that she has mistaken
the road to happiness. All the difficulty will be to make them fairly
acquainted with each other; for this, my dear doctor, I must trust to
you. Do you prepare Lady Anne to tolerate Lady Delacour’s faults, and I
will prepare Lady Delacour to tolerate Lady Anne’s virtues.”
“You have generously taken the more difficult task of the two,” replied
Dr. X----. “Well, we shall see what can be done. After the birthday,
Lady Delacour talks of going to Harrowgate: you know, Oakly-park is
not far from Harrowgate, so they will have frequent opportunities of
meeting. But, take my word for it, nothing can be done till after
the birthday; for Lady Delacour’s head is at present full of crape
petticoats, and horses, and carriages, and a certain Mrs. Luttridge,
whom she hates with a hatred passing that of women.”