The World's Greatest Books [Volumes 1-15, 17-20]

I.--A Match-Maker's Handicap

Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in the art of rising in the world, had, with but a small fortune, contrived to live in the highest company. She prided herself upon having established half a dozen nieces most happily--that is to say, upon having married them to men of fortunes far superior to their own. One niece still remained unmarried, Belinda Portman, of whom she determined to get rid with all convenient expedition; but finding that, owing to declining health, she could not go out with her as much as she wished, she succeeded in fastening her upon the fashionable Lady Delacour for a winter in London.

"Nothing, to my mind, can be more miserable than the situation of a poor girl who fails in her matrimonial expectations (as many do merely from not beginning to speculate in time)," she wrote from Bath. "She finds herself at five or six-and-thirty a burden to her friends, destitute of the means of rendering herself independent--for the girls I speak of never think of learning to play cards--de trop in society, yet obliged to hang upon all her acquaintances, who wish her in heaven, because she is unqualified to make the expected return for civilities, having no home--I mean no establishment, no house, etc.--fit for the reception of company of certain rank. My dearest Belinda, may this never be your case. I have sent your bracelet to you by Mr. Clarence Hervey, an acquaintance of Lady Delacour, an uncommonly pleasant young man, highly connected, a wit and a gallant, and having a fine independent fortune; so, my dear Belinda, I make it a point--look well when he is introduced to you, and remember that nobody can look well without taking some pains to please."

Belinda had been charmed by Lady Delacour, who was the most agreeable, the most fascinating person she had ever beheld; and to be a visitor at her house was a delightful privilege. But, a short time after her arrival, she began to see through the thin veil with which politeness covers domestic misery. Abroad, Lady Delacour appeared all spirit, life, and good humour; at home, listless, fretful, and melancholy, a prey to thoughts, seemingly, of the most painful nature.

The first time Belinda saw his lordship he was dead drunk in the arms of two footmen; his lady, who had just returned from Ranelagh, passed him on the stairs with the utmost contempt.

"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 ceremony; or," said her ladyship, looking at her watch and yawning, "I believe I should say a daily ceremony--six o'clock, I protest!"

The next morning Clarence Hervey called, and Belinda found him a most uncommonly pleasant young man. Lord Delacour was jealous of him; but although he would have started with horror at the idea of disturbing the peace of a family, in that family, he said, there was no peace to disturb. Consequently, he visited her ladyship every day, and every day viewed Belinda with increasing admiration, and with increasing dread of being taken in to marry a niece of that "catch-matchmaker," as Mrs. Stanhope was known amongst the men of his acquaintance.

Under the guise of a tragic muse--in which character Lady Delacour had pretended she was going to a masquerade--Belinda heard his true sentiments with regard to her.

"You don't believe I go to Lady Delacour's to look for a wife? Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you think I could be taken in by one of the Stanhope school?" he said to the facetious friends who rallied him on his attachment. "Do you think I don't see as plainly as any of you that Belinda Portman is a composition of art and affectation?"

"Melpomene, hast thou forgot thyself to warble?" asked Lady Delacour, tripping towards them as the comic muse.

"I am not very well," whispered Miss Portman. "Could we get away?"

"Do see if you can find any of my people!" cried Lady Delacour to Clarence Hervey, who had followed them downstairs.

"Lady Delacour, the comic muse!" exclaimed he. "I had thought----"

"No matter what you thought!" interrupted her ladyship. "Let my carriage draw up, and put this lady into it!" And he obeyed without uttering a syllable.

"Dry up your tears, keep on your mask, and elbow your way through the crowd," she said, when she had heard Belinda's story. "If you stop to be civil and 'hope I don't hurt ye,' you will be trod underfoot."

She insisted on driving to the Panthéon instead of going home, but to Belinda the night seemed long and dull. The masquerade had no charm to keep her thoughts from the conversation that had given her so much pain.

II.--Fashion and Fortitude

"How happy you are, Lady Delacour!" she said, when they got into the carriage to go home. "How happy to have such an amazing flow of spirits!"

And then she learnt the reason of her ladyship's strange unevenness of temper. She was dying of an incurable complaint, which she kept hidden from all the world except her maid, Marriott, who attended on her in a mysterious cabinet full of medicines and linen rags, the door of which she had hitherto kept locked.