it you are afraid of?" said she. Belinda went on, and the moment she was
in the room, Lady Delacour shut and locked the door. The room was rather
dark, as there was no light in it except what came from the candle which
Lady Delacour held in her hand, and which burned but dimly. Belinda, as
she looked round, saw nothing but a confusion of linen rags; vials, some
empty, some full, and she perceived that there was a strong smell of
medicines.

Lady Delacour, whose motions were all precipitate, like those of a person
whose mind is in great agitation, looked from side to side of the room,
without seeming to know what she was in search of. She then, with a
species of fury, wiped the paint from her face, and returning to Belinda,
held the candle so as to throw the light full upon her livid features. Her
eyes were sunk, her cheeks hollow; no trace of youth or beauty remained on
her death-like countenance, which formed a horrid contrast with her gay
fantastic dress.

"You are shocked, Belinda," said she; "but as yet you have seen
nothing--look here,"--and baring one half of her bosom, she revealed a
hideous spectacle.

Belinda sunk back into a chair; Lady Delacour flung herself on her knees
before her.

"Am I humbled, am I wretched enough?" cried she, her voice trembling with
agony. "Yes, pity me for what you have seen, and a thousand times more for
that which you cannot see:--my mind is eaten away like my body by
incurable disease--inveterate remorse--remorse for a life of folly--of
folly which has brought on me all the punishments of guilt."