"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."