I had the presumption and injustice to judge of Miss Portman so hastily. I
am convinced that, though she is a niece of Mrs. Stanhope's, she has
dignity of mind and simplicity of character. Will you, my dear Lady
Delacour, tell her so?"

"Stay," interrupted Lady Delacour; "let me get it by heart. I should have
made a terrible bad messenger of the gods and goddesses, for I never in my
life could, like Iris, repeat a message in the same words in which it was
delivered to me. Let me see--'Dignity of mind and simplicity of
character,' was not it? May not I say at once, 'My dear Belinda, Clarence
Hervey desires me to tell you that he is convinced you are an angel?' That
single word _angel_ is so expressive, so comprehensive, so comprehensible,
it contains, believe me, all that can be said or imagined on these
occasions, _de part et d'autre_."

"But," said Mr. Hervey, "perhaps Miss Portman has heard the song of--

'What know we of angels?--
I spake it in jest.'"

"Then you are not in jest, but in downright sober earnest?--Ha!" said Lady
Delacour, with an arch look, "I did not know it was already come to _this_
with you."

And her ladyship, turning to her piano-forte, played--

"There was a young man in Ballinacrasy,
Who wanted a wife to make him un_asy_,
And thus in gentle strains he spoke her,
Arrah, will you marry me, my dear Ally Croker?"