Belinda by Maria Edgeworth

Author:Maria Edgeworth [Edgeworth, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Romance, FICTION, Literary, Victorian, Historical, Classics
ISBN: 9781443433792
Google: wS4oAwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Harper Collins
Published: 2014-04-22T21:10:45+00:00

Chapter XIX

A Wedding

Belinda and Mr. Vincent could never agree in their definition of the-word flattery; so that there were continual complaints on the one hand of a breach of treaty, and, on the other, solemn protestations of the most scrupulous adherence to his compact. However this might be, it is certain that the gentleman gained so much, either by truth or fiction, that, in the course of some weeks, he got the lady as far as “gratitude and esteem.”

One evening, Belinda was playing with little Charles Percival at spillikins. Mr. Vincent, who found pleasure in everything that amused Belinda, and Mr. Percival, who took an interest in everything which entertained his children, were looking on at this simple game.

“Mr. Percival,” said Belinda, “condescending to look at a game of jack-straws!”

“Yes,” said Lady Anne; “for he is of Dryden’s opinion, that, if a straw can be made the instrument of happiness, he is a wise man who does not despise it.”

“Ah! Miss Portman, take care!” cried Charles, who was anxious that she should win, though he was playing against her. “Take care! don’t touch that knave.”

“I would lay a hundred guineas upon the steadiness of Miss Portman’s hand,” cried Mr. Vincent.

“I’ll lay you sixpence, though,” cried Charles, eagerly, “that she’ll stir the king, if she touches that knave—I’ll lay you a shilling.”

“Done! done!” cried Mr. Vincent.

“Done! done!” cried the boy, stretching out his hand, but his father caught it.

“Softly! softly, Charles!—No betting, if you please, my dear. Done and done sometimes ends in—undone.”

“It was my fault—it was I who was in the wrong,” cried Vincent immediately.

“I am sure you are in the right, now,” said Mr. Percival; “and, what is better than my saying so, Miss Portman thinks so, as her smile tells me.”

“You moved, Miss Portman!” cried Charles:—“Oh, indeed! the king’s head stirred, the very instant papa spoke. I knew it was impossible that you could get that knave clear off without shaking the king. Now, papa, only look how they were balanced.”

“I grant you,” said Mr. Vincent, “I should have made an imprudent bet. So it is well I made none; for now I see the chances were ten to one, twenty to one, a hundred to one against me.”

“It does not appear to me to be a matter of chance,” said Mr. Percival. “This is a game of address, not chance, and that is the reason I like it.”

“Oh, papa! Oh, Miss Portman! look how nicely these are balanced. There! my breath has set them in motion. Look, they shake, shake, shake, like the great rocking-stones at Brimham Crags.”

“That is comparing small things to great, indeed!” said Mr. Percival.

“By-the-by,” cried Mr. Vincent, “Miss Portman has never seen those wonderful rocking-stones—suppose we were to ride to see them tomorrow?”

The proposal was warmly seconded by the children, and agreed to by everyone. It was settled, that after they had seen Brimham Crags they should spend the remainder of the day at Lord C——’s beautiful place in the neighbourhood.

The next morning

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