Tales and Novels Volume III Part 26

"I want nothing from you, Lady Delacour," said Belinda. "_You have suspected me long in silence!_ then I have mistaken your character--I can love you no longer. Farewell for ever! Find another--a better friend."

She walked away from Lady Delacour with proud indignation; but, before she reached the door, she recollected her promise to remain with this unfortunate woman.

Is a dying woman, in the paroxysm of insane pa.s.sion, a fit object of indignation? thought Belinda, and she stopped short. "No, Lady Delacour," cried she, "I will not yield to my humour--I will not listen to my pride. A few words said in the heat of pa.s.sion shall not make me forget myself or you. You have given me your confidence; I am grateful for it. I cannot, will not desert you: my promise is sacred."

"Your promise!" said Lady Delacour, contemptuously. "I absolve you from your promise. Unless you find it _convenient_ to yourself to remember it, pray let it be forgotten; and if I must die--"

At this instant the door opened suddenly, and little Helena came in singing--

"'Merrily, merrily shall we live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.'

What comes next, Miss Portman?"

Lady Delacour dragged her veil across her face, and rushed out of the room.

"What is the matter?--Is mamma ill?"

"Yes, my dear," said Belinda. But at this instant she heard the sound of Lord Delacour's voice upon the stairs; she broke from the little girl, and with the greatest precipitation retreated to her own room.

She had not been alone above an hour before Marriott knocked at the door.

"Miss Portman, you don't know how late it is. Lady Singleton and the Miss Singletons are come. But, merciful heaven!" exclaimed Marriott, as she entered the room, "what is all this packing up? What is this trunk?"

"I am going to Oakly-park with Lady Anne Percival," said Belinda, calmly.

"I thought there was something wrong; my mind misgave me all the time I was dressing my lady,--she was in such a flutter, and never spoke to me.

I'd lay my life this is, some way or other, Mr. Champfort's doings. But, good dear Miss Portman, can you leave my poor lady when she wants you so much; and I'll take upon me to say, ma'am, loves you so much at the bottom of her heart? Dear me, how your face is flushed! Pray let me pack up these things, if it must be. But I do hope, if it be possible, that you should stay. However, I've no business to speak. I beg pardon for being so impertinent: I hope you won't take it ill,--it is only from regard to my poor lady I ventured to speak."

"Your regard to your lady deserves the highest approbation, Marriott,"

said Belinda. "It is impossible that I should stay with her any longer.

When I am gone, good Marriott, and when her health and strength decline, your fidelity and your services will be absolutely necessary to your mistress; and from what I have seen of the goodness of your heart, I am convinced that the more she is in want of you, the more _respectful_ will be your attention."

Marriott answered only by her tears, and went on packing up in a great hurry.

Nothing could equal Lady Delacour's astonishment when she learnt from Marriott that Miss Portman was actually preparing to leave the house.

After a moment's reflection, however, she persuaded herself that this was only a new artifice to work upon her affections; that Belinda did not mean to leave her; but that she would venture all lengths, in hopes of being at the last moment pressed to stay. Under this persuasion, Lady Delacour resolved to disappoint her expectations: she determined to meet her with that polite coldness which would best become her own dignity, and which, without infringing the laws of hospitality, would effectually point out to the world that Lady Delacour was no dupe, and that Miss Portman was an unwelcome inmate in her house.

The power of a.s.suming gaiety when her heart was a prey to the most poignant feelings, she had completely acquired by long practice. With the prompt.i.tude of an actress, she could instantly appear upon the stage, and support a character totally foreign to her own. The loud knocks at the door, which announced the arrival of company, were signals that operated punctually upon her a.s.sociations; and to this species of conventional necessity her most violent pa.s.sions submitted with magical celerity. Fresh rouged, and beautifully dressed, she was performing her part to a brilliant audience in her drawing-room when Belinda entered.

Belinda beheld her with much astonishment, but more pity.

"Miss Portman," said her ladyship, turning carelessly towards her, "where do you buy your rouge?--Lady Singleton, would you rather at this moment be mistress of the philosopher's stone, or have a patent for rouge that will come and go like Miss Portman's?--Apropos! have you read St. Leon?" Her ladyship was running on to a fresh train of ideas, when a footman announced the arrival of Lady Anne Percival's carriage; and Miss Portman rose to depart.

"You dine with Lady Anne, Miss Portman, I understand?--My compliments to her ladyship, and my duty to Mrs. Margaret Delacour, and her macaw. _Au revoir_! Though you talk of running away from me to Oakly-park, I am sure you will do no such cruel thing. I am, with all due humility, so confident of the irresistible attractions of this house, that I defy Oakly-park and all its charms. So, Miss Portman, instead of adieu, I shall only say, _au revoir!_"

"Adieu, Lady Delacour!" said Belinda, with a look and tone which struck her ladyship to the heart. All her suspicions, all her pride, all her affected gaiety vanished; her presence of mind forsook her, and for some moments she stood motionless and powerless. Then recollecting herself, she flew after Miss Portman, abruptly stopped her at the head of the stairs, and exclaimed, "My dearest Belinda, are you gone?--My best, my only friend!--Say you are not gone for ever!--Say you will return!"

"Adieu!" repeated Belinda. It was all she could say; she broke from Lady Delacour, and hurried out of the house with the strongest feeling of compa.s.sion for this unhappy woman, but with an unaltered sense of the propriety and necessity of her own firmness.

CHAPTER XVI.

DOMESTIC HAPPINESS.

There was an air of benevolence and perfect sincerity in the politeness with which Lady Anne Percival received Belinda, that was peculiarly agreeable to her agitated and hara.s.sed mind.

"You see, Lady Anne," said Belinda, "that I come to you at last, after having so often refused your kind invitations."

"So you surrender yourself at discretion, just when I was going to raise the siege in despair," said Lady Anne: "now I may make my own terms; and the only terms I shall impose are, that you will stay at Oakly-park with us, as long as we can make it agreeable to you, and no longer. Whether those who cease to please, or those who cease to be pleased, are most to blame,[6] it may sometimes be difficult to determine; so difficult, that when this becomes a question between two friends, they perhaps had better part than venture upon the discussion."

Lady Anne Percival could not avoid suspecting that something disagreeable had pa.s.sed between Lady Delacour and Belinda; but she was not troubled with the disease of idle curiosity, and her example prevailed upon Mrs. Margaret Delacour, who dined with her, to refrain from all questions and comments.

The prejudice which this lady had conceived against our heroine, as being a niece of Mrs. Stanhope's, had lately been vanquished by the favourable representations of her conduct which she had heard from her nephew, and by the kindness that Belinda had shown to little Helena.

"Madam," said Mrs. Delacour, addressing herself to Miss Portman with some formality, but much dignity, "permit me, as one of my Lord Delacour's nearest relations now living, to return you my thanks for having, as my nephew informs me, exerted your influence over Lady Delacour for the happiness of his family. My little Helena, I am sure, feels her obligations towards you, and I rejoice that I have had an opportunity of expressing, in person, my sense of what our family owes to Miss Portman. As to the rest, her own heart will reward her. The praise of the world is but an inferior consideration. However, it deserves to be mentioned, as an instance of the world's candour, and for the singularity of the case, that every body agrees in speaking well even of so handsome a young lady as Miss Portman."

"She must have had extraordinary prudence," said Lady Anne; "and the world does justly to reward it with extraordinary esteem."

Belinda, with equal pleasure and surprise, observed that all this was said sincerely, and that the report, which she had feared was public, had never reached Mrs. Delacour or Lady Anne Percival.

In fact, it was known and believed only by those who had been prejudiced by the malice or folly of Sir Philip Baddely. Piqued by the manner in which his addresses had been received by Belinda, he readily listened to the comfortable words of his valet de chambre, who a.s.sured him that he had it from the best possible authority (Lord Delacour's own gentleman, Mr. Champfort), that his lordship was deeply _taken_ with Miss Portman--that the young lady managed every thing in the house--that she had been very prudent, to be sure, and had refused large presents--but that there was no doubt of her becoming Lady Delacour, if ever his lordship should be at liberty. Sir Philip was the person who mentioned this to Clarence Hervey, and Sir Philip was the person who hinted it to Mrs. Stanhope, in the very letter which he wrote to implore her influence in favour of his own proposal. This manoeuvring lady represented this report as being universally known and believed, in hopes of frightening her niece into an immediate match with the baronet.

In the whole extent of Mrs. Stanhope's politic imagination, she had never foreseen the possibility of her niece's speaking the simple truth to Lady Delacour, and she had never guarded against this danger. She never thought of Belinda's mentioning this report to her ladyship, because she would never have dealt so openly, had she been in the place of her niece. Thus her art and falsehood operated against her own views, and produced consequences diametrically opposite to her expectations.

It was her exaggerations that made Lady Delacour believe, when Belinda repeated what she had said, that this report was universally known and credited; her own suspicions were by these means again awakened, and her jealousy and rage were raised to such a pitch, that, no longer mistress of herself, she insulted her friend and guest. Miss Portman was then obliged to do the very thing that Mrs. Stanhope most dreaded--to leave Lady Delacour's house and all its advantages. As to Sir Philip Baddely, Belinda never thought of him from the moment she read her aunt's letter, till after she had left her ladyship; her mind was firmly decided upon this subject; yet she could not help fearing that her aunt would not understand her reasons, or approve her conduct. She wrote to Mrs.

Stanhope in the most kind and respectful manner; a.s.sured her that there had been no foundation whatever for the report which had produced so much uneasiness; that Lord Delacour had always treated her with politeness and good-nature, but that such thoughts or views as had been attributed to him, she was convinced had never entered his lordship's mind; that hearing of the publicity of this report had, however, _much affected_ Lady D----. "I have, therefore," said Belinda, "thought it prudent to quit her ladyship, and to accept of an invitation from Lady Anne Percival to Oakly-park. I hope, my dear aunt, that you will not be displeased by my leaving town without seeing Sir Philip Baddely again.

Our meeting could indeed answer no purpose, as it is entirely out of my power to return his partiality. Of his character, temper, and manners, I know enough to be convinced, that our union could tend only to make us both miserable. After what I have seen, nothing can ever tempt me to marry from any of the common views of interest or ambition."

On this subject Belinda, though she declared her own sentiments with firm sincerity, touched as slightly as she could, because she anxiously wished to avoid all appearance of _braving_ the opinions of an aunt to whom she was under obligations. She was tempted to pa.s.s over in silence all that part of Mrs. Stanhope's letter which related to Clarence Hervey; but upon reflection, she determined to conquer her repugnance to speak of him, and to make perfect sincerity the steady rule of her conduct. She therefore acknowledged to her aunt, that of all the persons she had hitherto seen, this gentleman was the most agreeable to her; but at the same time she a.s.sured her, that the refusal of Sir Philip Baddely was totally independent of all thoughts of Mr. Hervey--that, before she had received her aunt's letter, circ.u.mstances had convinced her that Mr.

Hervey was attached to another woman. She concluded by saying, that she had neither romantic hopes nor wishes, and that her affections were at her own command.

Belinda received the following angry answer from Mrs. Stanhope:--

"Henceforward, Belinda, you may manage your own affairs as you think proper; I shall never more interfere with my advice. Refuse whom you please--go where you please--get what friends, and what admirers, and what establishment you can--I have nothing more to do with it--I will never more undertake the management of young people. There's your sister Tollemache has made a pretty return for all my kindness! she is going to be parted from her husband, and basely throws all the blame upon me. But 'tis the same with all of you. There's your cousin Joddrell refused me a hundred guineas last week, though the piano-forte and harp I bought for her before she was married stood me in double that sum, and are now useless lumber on my hands; and she never could have had Joddrell without them, as she knows as well as I do. As for Mrs. Levit, she never writes to me, and takes no manner of notice of me. But this is no matter, for her notice can be of no consequence now to any body. Levit has run out every thing he had in the world!--All his fine estates advertised in to-day's paper--an execution in the House, I'm told. I expect that she will have the a.s.surance to come to me in her distress: but she shall find my doors shut, I promise her. Your cousin Valleton's match has, through her own folly, turned out like all the rest. She, her husband, and all his relations are at daggers-drawing; and Valleton will die soon, and won't leave her a farthing in his will, I foresee, and all the fine Valleton estate goes to G.o.d knows whom!

"If she had taken my advice after marriage as before, it would have been all her own at this instant. But the pa.s.sions run away with people, and they forget every thing--common sense, grat.i.tude, and all--as you do, Belinda. Clarence Hervey will never think of you, and I give you up!--Now manage for yourself as you please, and as you can! I'll have nothing more to do with the affairs of young ladies who will take no advice.

"SELINA STANHOPE.

"P. S. If you return directly to Lady Delacour's, and marry Sir Philip Baddely, I will forgive the past."

The regret which Belinda felt at having grievously offended her aunt was somewhat alleviated by the reflection that she had acted with integrity and prudence. Thrown off her guard by anger, Mrs. Stanhope had inadvertently furnished her niece with the best possible reasons against following her advice with regard to Sir Philip Baddely, by stating that her sister and cousins, who had married with mercenary views, had made themselves miserable, and had shown their aunt neither grat.i.tude nor respect.

The tranquillity of Belinda's mind was gradually restored by the society that she enjoyed at Oakly-park. She found herself in the midst of a large and cheerful family, with whose domestic happiness she could not forbear to sympathize. There was an affectionate confidence, an unconstrained gaiety in this house, which forcibly struck her, from its contrast with what she had seen at Lady Delacour's. She perceived that between Mr. Percival and Lady Anne there was a union of interests, occupations, taste, and affection. She was at first astonished by the openness with which they talked of their affairs in her presence; that there were no family secrets, nor any of those petty mysteries which arise from a discordance of temper or struggle for power. In conversation, every person expressed without constraint their wishes and opinions; and wherever these differed, reason and the general good were the standards to which they appealed. The elder and younger part of the family were not separated from each other; even the youngest child in the house seemed to form part of the society, to have some share and interest in the general occupations or amus.e.m.e.nts The children were treated neither as slaves nor as playthings, but as reasonable creatures; and the ease with which they were managed, and with which they managed themselves, surprised Belinda; for she heard none of that continual lecturing which goes forward in some houses, to the great fatigue and misery of all the parties concerned, and of all the spectators. Without force or any fact.i.tious excitements, the taste for knowledge, and the habits of application, were induced by example, and confirmed by sympathy. Mr. Percival was a man of science and literature, and his daily pursuits and general conversation were in the happiest manner instructive and interesting to his family. His knowledge of the world, and his natural gaiety of disposition, rendered his conversation not only useful, but in the highest degree amusing. From the merest trifles he could lead to some scientific fact, some happy literary allusion, or philosophical investigation.

Lady Anne Percival had, without any pedantry or ostentation, much accurate knowledge, and a taste for literature, which made her the chosen companion of her husband's understanding, as well as of his heart. He was not obliged to reserve his conversation for friends of his own s.e.x, nor was he forced to seclude himself in the pursuit of any branch of knowledge; the partner of his warmest affections was also the partner of his most serious occupations; and her sympathy and approbation, and the daily sense of her success in the education of their children, inspired him with a degree of happy social energy, unknown to the selfish solitary votaries of avarice and ambition.

In this large and happy family there was a variety of pursuits. One of the boys was fond of chemistry, another of gardening; one of the daughters had a talent for painting, another for music; and all their acquirements and accomplishments contributed to increase their mutual happiness, for there was no envy or jealousy amongst them.