The tears rolled fast down her painted cheeks; she wiped them hastily away, and so roughly, that her face became a strange and ghastly spectacle. Unconscious of her disordered appearance, she rushed past Belinda, who vainly attempted to stop her, threw up the sash, and stretching herself far out of the window, gasped for breath. Miss Portman drew her back, and closed the window, saying, "The rouge is all off your face, my dear Lady Delacour; you are not fit to be seen. Sit down upon this sofa, and I will ring for Marriott, and get some fresh rouge. Look at your face in this glass--you see--"
"I see," interrupted Lady Delacour, looking full at Belinda, "that she who I thought had the noblest of souls has the meanest! I see that she is incapable of feeling. _Rouge! not fit to be seen_!--At such a time as this, to talk to me in this manner! Oh, niece of Mrs. Stanhope!--dupe!--dupe that I am!" She flung herself upon the sofa, and struck her forehead with her hand violently several times. Belinda catching her arm, and holding it with all her force, cried in a tone of authority, "Command yourself, Lady Delacour, I conjure you, or you will go out of your senses; and if you do, your secret will be discovered by the whole world."
"Hold me not--you have no right," cried Lady Delacour, struggling to free her hand. "All-powerful as you are in this house, you have no longer any power over me! I am not going out of my senses! You cannot get me into Bedlam, all-powerful, all-artful as you are. You have done enough to drive me mad--but I am not mad. No wonder you cannot believe me--no wonder you are astonished at the strong expression of feelings that are foreign to your nature--no wonder that you mistake the writhings of the heart, the agony of a generous soul, for madness! Look not so terrified; I will do you no injury. Do not you hear that I can lower my voice?--do not you see that I can be calm? Could Mrs. Stanhope herself--could _you_, Miss Portman, speak in a softer, milder, more polite, more proper tone than I do now? Are you pleased, are you satisfied?"
"I am better satisfied--a little better satisfied," said Belinda.
"That's well; but still you tremble. There's not the least occasion for apprehension--you see I can command myself, and smile upon you."