Tales and Novels, vol 3 | Page 3

Her mind had never been roused to much reflection; she had
in general acted but as a puppet in the hands of others. To her aunt
Stanhope she had hitherto paid unlimited, habitual, blind obedience;

but she was more undesigning, and more free from affectation and
coquetry, than could have been expected, after the course of
documenting which she had gone through. She was charmed with the
idea of a visit to Lady Delacour, whom she thought the most
agreeable--no, that is too feeble an expression--the most fascinating
person she had ever beheld. Such was the light in which her ladyship
appeared, not only to Belinda, but to all the world--that is to say, all the
world of fashion, and she knew of no other.--The newspapers were full
of Lady Delacour's parties, and Lady Delacour's dresses, and Lady
Delacour's bon mots: every thing that her ladyship said was repeated as
witty; every thing that her ladyship wore was imitated as fashionable.
Female wit sometimes depends on the beauty of its possessor for its
reputation; and the reign of beauty is proverbially short, and fashion
often capriciously deserts her favourites, even before nature withers
their charms. Lady Delacour seemed to be a fortunate exception to
these general rules: long after she had lost the bloom of youth, she
continued to be admired as a fashionable bel esprit; and long after she
had ceased to be a novelty in society, her company was courted by all
the gay, the witty, and the gallant. To be seen in public with Lady
Delacour, to be a visitor at her house, were privileges of which
numbers were vehemently ambitious; and Belinda Portman was
congratulated and envied by all her acquaintance, for being admitted as
an inmate. How could she avoid thinking herself singularly fortunate?
A short time after her arrival at Lady Delacour's, Belinda began to see
through the thin veil with which politeness covers domestic
misery.--Abroad, and at home, Lady Delacour was two different
persons. Abroad she appeared all life, spirit, and good humour--at home,
listless, fretful, and melancholy; she seemed like a spoiled actress off
the stage, over-stimulated by applause, and exhausted by the exertions
of supporting a fictitious character.--When her house was filled with
well-dressed crowds, when it blazed with lights, and resounded with
music and dancing, Lady Delacour, in the character of Mistress of the
Revels, shone the soul and spirit of pleasure and frolic: but the moment
the company retired, when the music ceased, and the lights were
extinguishing, the spell was dissolved.

She would sometimes walk up and down the empty magnificent saloon,
absorbed in thoughts seemingly of the most painful nature.
For some days after Belinda's arrival in town she heard nothing of Lord
Delacour; his lady never mentioned his name, except once accidentally,
as she was showing Miss Portman the house, she said, "Don't open that
door--those are only Lord Delacour's apartments."--The first time
Belinda ever saw his lordship, he was dead drunk in the arms of two
footmen, who were carrying him up stairs to his bedchamber: his lady,
who was just returned from Ranelagh, passed by him on the
landing-place with a look of sovereign contempt.
"What is the matter?--Who is this?" said Belinda.
"Only the body of my Lord Delacour," said her ladyship: "his bearers
have brought it up the wrong staircase. Take it down again, my good
friends: let his lordship go his own way. Don't look so shocked and
amazed, Belinda--don't look so new, child: this funeral of my lord's
intellects is to me a nightly, or," added her ladyship, looking at her
watch and yawning, "I believe I should say a daily ceremony--six
o'clock, I protest!"
The next morning, as her ladyship and Miss Portman were sitting at the
breakfast-table, after a very late breakfast, Lord Delacour entered the
room.
"Lord Delacour, sober, my dear,"--said her ladyship to Miss Portman,
by way of introducing him. Prejudiced by her ladyship, Belinda was
inclined to think that Lord Delacour sober would not be more agreeable
or more rational than Lord Delacour drunk. "How old do you take my
lord to be?" whispered her ladyship, as she saw Belinda's eye fixed
upon the trembling hand which carried his teacup to his lips: "I'll lay
you a wager," continued she aloud--"I'll lay your birth-night dress, gold
fringe, and laurel wreaths into the bargain, that you don't guess right."
"I hope you don't think of going to this birth-night, lady Delacour?"
said his lordship.

"I'll give you six guesses, and I'll bet you don't come within sixteen
years," pursued her ladyship, still looking at Belinda.
"You cannot have the new carriage you have bespoken," said his
lordship. "Will you do me the honour to attend to me, Lady Delacour?"
"Then you won't venture to guess, Belinda," said her ladyship