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