Tales and Novels, vol 3 | Page 3

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 (without honouring her lord with the smallest portion of her attention)--"Well, I believe you are right--for certainly you would guess him to be six-and-sixty, instead of six-and-thirty; but then he can drink more than any two-legged animal in his majesty's dominions, and you know that is an advantage which is well worth twenty or thirty years of a man's life--especially to persons who have no other chance of distinguishing themselves."
"If some people had distinguished themselves a