ungrateful for her fondness, however injudicious it may have been?”
“O no! he does nothing but comfort and cheer her! and indeed it is
very good of him, for he has owned to me in private, that but for her
encouragement, he could not have run the course he has run, for he
should have been obliged to enter into business, whether he had liked it
or not. But my poor mother knows this, though he will not tell it her,
and therefore she says that unless he gets well, she will punish herself
all the rest of her life, and never go back to her house, and never hire
another servant, and never eat any thing but bread, nor drink any thing
but water!”
“Poor unhappy woman!” cried Cecilia, “how dearly does she pay for her
imprudent and short-sighted indulgence! but surely you are not also to
suffer in the same manner?”
“No, madam, not by her fault, for she wants me to go and live with one
of my sisters: but I would not quit her for the world; I should think
myself wicked indeed to leave her now. Besides, I don't at all repine at
the little hardships I go through at present, because my poor brother is
in so much distress, that all we save may be really turned to account;
but when we lived so hardly only to procure him luxuries he had no right
to, I must own I used often to think it unfair, and if I had not loved
him dearly, I should not have borne it so well, perhaps, as I ought.”
Cecilia now began to think it high time to release her new acquaintance
by quitting her, though she felt herself so much interested in her
affairs, that every word she spoke gave her a desire to lengthen the
conversation. She ardently wished to make her some present, but was
restrained by the fear of offending, or of being again refused; she had,
however, devised a private scheme for serving her more effectually than
by the donation of a few guineas, and therefore, after earnestly begging
to hear from her if she could possibly be of any use, she told her that
she should not find her confidence misplaced, and promising again to see
her soon, reluctantly departed.
CHAPTER vii
AN EXPEDIENT.
The scheme now projected by Cecilia, was to acquaint the surgeon who had
already attended Mr. Belfield with his present situation and address,
and to desire him to continue his visits, for the payment of which she
would herself be accountable.
The raillery of young Delvile, however, had taught her to fear the
constructions of the world, and she therefore purposed to keep both the
surgeon and Mr Belfield ignorant to whom they were indebted. She was
aware, indeed, that whatever might be her management, that high-spirited
and unfortunate young man would be extremely hurt to find himself thus
detected and pursued; but she thought his life too well worth preserving
to let it be sacrificed to his pride, and her internal conviction of
being herself the immediate cause of its present danger, gave to her an
anxious and restless desire to be herself the means of extricating him
from it.
Rupil, the name of the surgeon, she had already heard mentioned by Mr.
Arnott, and in getting into her chair, she ordered Ralph, her man, to
enquire where he lived.
“I know already where he lives, madam,” answered Ralph, “for I saw his
name over a door in Cavendish-street, Oxford-road; I took particular
notice of it, because it was at the house where you stood up that day
on account of the mob that was waiting to see the malefactors go to
Tyburn.”
This answer unravelled to Cecilia a mystery which had long perplext
her; for the speeches of young Delvile when he had surprised her in
that situation were now fully explained. In seeing her come out of the
surgeon's house, he had naturally concluded she had only entered it
to ask news of his patient, Mr. Belfield; her protestations of merely
standing up to avoid the crowd, he had only laughed at; and his hints
at her reserve and dissimulation, were meant but to reproach her for
refusing his offer of procuring her intelligence, at the very time when,
to all appearance, she anxiously, though clandestinely, sought it for
herself.
This discovery, notwithstanding it relieved her from all suspense of his
meaning, gave her much vexation: to be supposed to take an interest
so ardent, yet so private, in the affairs of Mr Belfield, might well
authorise all suspicions of her partiality for him: and even if any
doubt had yet remained, the unlucky meeting upon the stairs at his
lodgings, would not fail to dispel it, and confirm the notion of her
secret regard. She hoped, however, to have soon some opportunity of
clearing up the mistake, and resolved in the mean time to be studiously
cautious in avoiding all appearances that might strengthen it.
No caution, however, and no apprehension, could intimidate her active
humanity from putting into immediate execution a plan in which she
feared any delay might be fatal; and therefore the moment she got home,
she wrote the following note to the surgeon.
_“To------Rupil, Esq._
_“March 27, 1779_.
“A friend of Mr Belfield begs Mr Rupil will immediately call upon that
gentleman, who is in lodgings about the middle of Swallow-street, and
insist upon visiting him till he is perfectly recovered. Mr Rupil
is entreated not to make known this request, nor to receive from Mr
Belfield any return for his attendance; but to attribute the discovery
of his residence to accident, and to rest assured he shall be amply
recompensed for his time and trouble by the friend who makes this
application, and who is willing to give any security that Mr Rupil shall
think proper to mention, for the performance of this engagement.”
Her next difficulty was in what manner to have this note conveyed; to
send her own servant was inevitably betraying herself, to employ any
other was risking a confidence that might be still more dangerous,
and she could not trust to the penny-post, as her proposal required
an answer. After much deliberation, she at length determined to have
recourse to Mrs Hill, to whose services she was entitled, and upon whose
fidelity she could rely.
The morning was already far advanced, but the Harrels dined late, and
she would not lose a day where even an hour might be of importance. She
went therefore immediately to Mrs. Hill, whom she found already removed
into her new habitation in Fetter-lane, and equally busy and happy in
the change of scene and of employment. She gave to her the note, which
she desired her to carry to Cavendish-street directly, and either to
deliver it into Mr. Rupil's own hands, or to bring it back if he was
out; but upon no consideration to make known whence or from whom it
came.
She then went into the back part of the shop, which by Mrs. Roberts
was called the parlour, and amused herself during the absence of her
messenger, by playing with the children.
Mrs. Hill at her return said she had found Mr. Rupil at home, and as
she refused to give the letter to the servant, she had been taken into
a room where he was talking with a gentleman, to whom, as soon as he had
read it, he said with a laugh, “Why here's another person with the same
proposal as yours! however, I shall treat you both alike.” And then
he wrote an answer, which he sealed up, and bid her take care of. This
answer was as follows:
“Mr. Rupil will certainly attend Mr. Belfield, whose friends may be
satisfied he will do all in his power to recover him, without receiving
any recompense but the pleasure of serving a gentleman who is so much
beloved.”
Cecilia, charmed at this unhoped for success, was making further
enquiries into what had passed, when Mrs Hill, in a low voice, said,
“There's the gentleman, madam, who was with Mr. Rupil when I gave him
the letter. I had a notion he was dodging me all the way I came, for I
saw him just behind me, turn which way I would.”
Cecilia then looked--and perceived young Delvile! who, after stopping
a moment at the door, came into the shop, and desired to be shewn some
gloves, which, among other things, were laid in the window.
Extremely disconcerted at the sight of him, she began now almost to
fancy there was some fatality attending her acquaintance with him, since
she was always sure of meeting, when she had any reason to wish avoiding
him.
As soon as he saw he was observed by her, he bowed with the utmost
respect: she coloured in returning the salutation, and prepared, with no
little vexation, for another attack, and further [raillery], similar to
what she had already received from him: but, as soon as he had made his
purchase, he bowed to her again, and, without speaking, left the shop.
A silence so unexpected at once astonished and disturbed her; she
again desired to hear all that had passed at Mr. Rupil's, and from the
relation gathered that Delvile had himself undertaken to be responsible
for his attendance upon Mr. Belfield.
A liberality so like her own failed not to impress her with the most
lively esteem: but this served rather to augment than lessen the pain
with which she considered the clandestine appearance she thus repeatedly
made to him. She had no doubt he had immediately concluded she was
author of the application to the surgeon, and that he followed her
messenger merely to ascertain the fact; while his silence when he had
made the discovery, she could only attribute to his now believing that
her regard for Mr Belfield was too serious for raillery.
Doubly, however, she rejoiced at the generosity of Mr Rupil, as it
rendered wholly unnecessary her further interference: for she now saw
with some alarm the danger to which benevolence itself, directed towards
a youthful object, might expose her.
CHAPTER viii
A REMONSTRANCE.
Cecilia returned home so late, that she was summoned to the dining
parlour the moment she entered the house. Her morning dress, and her
long absence, excited much curiosity in Mrs Harrel, which a quick
succession of questions evasively answered soon made general; and Sir
Robert Floyer, turning to her with a look of surprise, said, “If you
have such freaks as these, Miss Beverley, I must begin to enquire a
little more into your proceedings.”
“That, Sir,” said Cecilia, very coldly, “would ill repay your trouble.”
“When we get her to Violet Bank,” cried Mr Harrel, “we shall be able to
keep a better watch over her.”
“I hope so,” answered Sir Robert; “though faith she has been so demure,
that I never supposed she did any thing but read sermons. However, I
find there's no going upon trust with women, any more than with money.”
“Ay, Sir Robert,” cried Mrs Harrel, “you know I always advised you not
to be quite so easy, and I am sure I really think you deserve a little
severity, for not being more afraid.”
“Afraid of what, madam?” cried the baronet; “of a young lady's walking
out without me? Do you think I wish to be any restraint upon Miss
Beverley's time in a morning, while I have the happiness of waiting upon
her every afternoon?”
Cecilia was thunderstruck by this speech, which not only expressed an
open avowal of his pretensions, but a confident security of his success.
She was shocked that a man of such principles should even for a moment
presume upon her favour, and irritated at the stubbornness of Mr. Harrel
in not acquainting him with her refusal.
His intimation of coming to the house for _the happiness of waiting upon
her_, made her determine, without losing a moment, to seek herself an
explanation with him: while the discovery that he was included in
the Easter party, which various other concomitant causes had already
rendered disagreeable to her, made her look forward to that purposed
expedition with nothing but unwillingness and distaste.
But though her earnestness to conclude this affair made her now put
herself voluntarily in the way of the baronet, she found her plan always
counteracted by Mr. Harrel, who, with an officiousness too obvious to
pass for chance, constantly stopt the progress of any discourse in which
he did not himself bear a part. A more passionate admirer might not have
been so easily defeated; but Sir Robert, too proud for solicitation,
and too indolent for assiduity, was very soon checked, because very soon
wearied.
The whole evening, therefore, to her infinite mortification, passed
away without affording her any opportunity of making known to him his
mistake.
Her next effort was to remonstrate with Mr. Harrel himself; but this
scheme was not more easy of execution than the other, since Mr. Harrel,
suspecting she meant again to dun him for her money, avoided all
separate conversation with her so skilfully, that she could not find a
moment to make him hear her.
She then resolved to apply to his lady; but here her success was not
better: Mrs. Harrel, dreading another lecture upon economy, peevishly
answered to her request of a conference, that she was not very well, and
could not talk gravely.
Cecilia, justly offended with them all, had now no resource but in Mr.
Monckton, whose counsel for effectually dismissing the baronet, she
determined to solicit by the first opportunity.
The moment, therefore, that she next saw him, she acquainted him with
the speeches of Sir Robert and the behaviour of Mr. Harrel.
There needed no rhetoric to point out to Mr. Monckton the danger
of suffering such expectations, or the impropriety of her present
situation: he was struck with both in a manner the most forcible, and
spared not for warmth of expression to alarm her delicacy, or add to her
displeasure. But chiefly he was exasperated against Mr. Harrel, assuring
her there could be no doubt but that he had some particular interest in
so strenuously and artfully supporting the pretensions of Sir Robert.
Cecilia endeavoured to refute this opinion, which she regarded as
proceeding rather from prejudice than justice; but when she mentioned
that the baronet was invited to spent the Easter holidays at
Violet-Bank, he represented with such energy the consequent
constructions of the world, as well as the unavoidable encouragement
such intimacy would imply, that he terrified her into an earnest
entreaty to suggest to her some way of deliverance.
“There is only one;” answered he, “you must peremptorily refuse to go to
Violet Bank yourself. If, after what has passed, you are included in the
same party with Sir Robert, you give a sanction yourself to the reports
already circulated of your engagements with him and the effect of such
a sanction will be more serious than you can easily imagine, since the
knowledge that a connection is believed in the world, frequently, if not
generally, leads by imperceptible degrees to its real ratification.”
Cecilia, with the utmost alacrity, promised implicitly to follow his
advice, whatever might be the opposition of Mr Harrel. He quitted her,
therefore, with unusual satisfaction, happy in his power over her mind,
and anticipating with secret rapture the felicity he had in reserve from
visiting her during the absence of the family.
As no private interview was necessary for making known her intention of
giving up the Easter party, which was to take place in two days' time,
she mentioned next morning her design of spending the holidays in town,
when Mr Harrel sauntered into the breakfast room to give some commission
to his lady.
At first he only laughed at her plan, gaily rallying her upon her love
of solitude; but when he found it was serious, he very warmly opposed
it, and called upon Mrs Harrel to join in his expostulations. That lady
complied, but in so faint a manner, that Cecilia soon saw she did not
wish to prevail; and with a concern, that cost her infinite pain, now
finally perceived that not only all her former affection was subsided
into indifference, but that, since she had endeavoured to abridge her
amusements, she regarded her as a spy, and dreaded her as the censor of
her conduct.
Mean while Mr Arnott, who was present, though he interfered not in the
debate, waited the event with anxiety; naturally hoping her objections
arose from her dislike of Sir Robert, and secretly resolving to
be guided himself by her motions. Cecilia at length, tired of the
importunities of Mr Harrel, gravely said, that if he desired to hear
the reasons which obliged her to refuse his request, she was ready to
communicate them.
Mr Harrel, after a little hesitation, accompanied her into another room.
She then declared her resolution not to live under the same roof with
Sir Robert, and very openly expressed her vexation and displeasure, that
he so evidently persisted in giving that gentleman encouragement.
“My dear Miss Beverley,” answered he, carelessly, “when young ladies
will not know their own minds, it is necessary some friend should tell
it them: you were certainly very favourable to Sir Robert but a short
time ago, and so, I dare say, you will be again, when you have seen more
of him.”
“You amaze me, Sir!” cried Cecilia: “when was I favourable to him? Has
he not always and regularly been my aversion?”
“I fancy,” answered Mr Harrel, laughing, “you will not easily persuade
him to think so; your behaviour at the Opera-house was ill calculated to
give him that notion.”
“My behaviour at the Opera-house, Sir, I have already explained to you;
and if Sir Robert himself has any doubts, either from that circumstance
or from any other, pardon me if I say they can only be attributed to
your unwillingness to remove them. I entreat you, therefore, to
trifle with him no longer, nor to subject me again to the freedom of
implications extremely disagreeable to me.”
“O fie, fie, Miss Beverley! after all that has passed, after his long
expectations, and his constant attendance, you cannot for a moment think
seriously of discarding him.”
Cecilia, equally surprised and provoked by this speech, could not for
a moment tell how to answer it; and Mr Harrel, wilfully misinterpreting
her silence, took her hand, and said, “Come, I am sure you have too
much, honour to make a fool of such a man as Sir Robert Floyer. There
is not a woman in town who will not envy your choice, and I assure you
there is not a man in England I would so soon recommend to you.”
He would then have hurried her back to the next room; but, drawing away
her hand with undisguised resentment, “No, Sir,” she cried, “this
must not pass! my positive rejection of Sir Robert the instant you
communicated to me his proposals, you can neither have forgotten nor
mistaken: and you must not wonder if I acknowledge myself extremely
disobliged by your unaccountable perseverance in refusing to receive my
answer.”
“Young ladies who have been brought up in the country,” returned Mr
Harrel, with his usual negligence, “are always so high flown in their
notions, it is difficult to deal with them; but as I am much better
acquainted with the world than you can be, you must give me leave to
tell you, that if, after all, you refuse Sir Robert, it will be using
him very ill.”
“Why will you say so, Sir?” cried Cecilia, “when it is utterly
impossible you can have formed so preposterous an opinion. Pray hear me,
however, finally, and pray tell Sir Robert--”
“No, no,” interrupted he, with affected gaiety, “you shall manage it all
your own way; I will have nothing to do with the quarrels of lovers.”
And then, with a pretended laugh, he hastily left her.
Cecilia was so much incensed by this impracticable behaviour, that
instead of returning to the family, she went directly to her own room.
It was easy for her to see that Mr Harrel was bent upon using every
method he could devise, to entangle her into some engagement with Sir
Robert, and though she could not imagine the meaning of such a
scheme, the littleness of his behaviour excited her contempt, and the
long-continued error of the baronet gave her the utmost uneasiness. She
again determined to seek an explanation with him herself, and immovably
to refuse joining the party to Violet Bank.
The following day, while the ladies and Mr Arnott were at breakfast, Mr
Harrel came into the room to enquire if they should all be ready to
set off for his villa by ten o'clock the next day. Mrs Harrel and her
brother answered in the affirmative; but Cecilia was silent, and he
turned to her and repeated his question.
“Do you think me so capricious, Sir,” said she, “that after telling you
but yesterday I could not be of your party, I shall tell you to-day that
I can?”
“Why you do not really mean to remain in town by yourself?” replied he,
“you cannot suppose that will be an eligible plan for a young lady. On
the contrary, it will be so very improper, that I think myself, as your
Guardian, obliged to oppose it.”
Amazed at this authoritative speech, Cecilia looked at him with a
mixture of mortification and anger; but knowing it would be vain to
resist his power if he was resolute to exert it, she made not any
answer.
“Besides,” he continued, “I have a plan for some alterations in the
house during my absence; and I think your room, in particular, will be
much improved by them: but it will be impossible to employ any workmen,
if we do not all quit the premises.”
This determined persecution now seriously alarmed her; she saw that Mr
Harrel would omit no expedient or stratagem to encourage the addresses
of Sir Robert, and force her into his presence; and she began next to
apprehend that her connivance in his conduct might be presumed upon by
that gentleman: she resolved, therefore, as the last and only effort in
her power for avoiding him, to endeavour to find an accommodation at the
house of Mrs Delvile, during the excursion to Violet Bank: and if, when
she returned to Portman-square, the baronet still persevered in his
attendance, to entreat her friend Mr Monckton would take upon himself
the charge of undeceiving him.
CHAPTER ix
A VICTORY.
As not a moment was now to be lost, Cecilia had no sooner suggested
this scheme, than she hastened to St James's-Square, to try its
practicability.
She found Mrs Delvile alone, and still at breakfast.
After the first compliments were over, while she was considering in
what manner to introduce her proposal, Mrs Delvile herself led to the
subject, by saying, “I am very sorry to hear we are so soon to lose you;
but I hope Mr Harrel does not intend to make any long stay at his villa;
for if he does, I shall be half tempted to come and run away with you
from him.”
“And that,” said Cecilia, delighted with this opening, “would be an
honour I am _more_ than half tempted to desire.”
“Why indeed your leaving London at this time,” continued Mrs Delvile,
“is, for me, particularly unfortunate, as, if I could now be favoured
with your visits, I should doubly value them; for Mr Delvile is gone
to spend the holidays at the Duke of Derwent's, whither I was not well
enough to accompany him; my son has his own engagements, and there
are so few people I can bear to see, that I shall live almost entirely
alone.”
“If I,” cried Cecilia, “in such a situation might hope to be admitted,
how gladly for that happiness would I exchange my expedition to Violet
Bank!”
“You are very good, and very amiable,” said Mrs Devile, “and your
society would, indeed, give me infinite satisfaction. Yet I am no enemy
to solitude; on the contrary, company is commonly burthensome to me; I
find few who have any power to give me entertainment, and even of those
few, the chief part have in their manners, situation, or characters,
an unfortunate something, that generally renders a near connection with
them inconvenient or disagreeable. There are, indeed, so many drawbacks
to regard and intimacy, from pride, from propriety, and various other
collateral causes, that rarely as we meet with people of brilliant
parts, there is almost ever some objection to our desire of meeting them
again. Yet to live wholly alone is chearless and depressing; and with
you, at least,” taking Cecilia's hand, “I find not one single obstacle
to oppose to a thousand inducements, which invite me to form a
friendship that I can only hope may be as lasting, as I am sure it will
be pleasant.”
Cecilia expressed her sense of this partiality in the warmest terms;
and Mrs Delvile, soon discovering by her manner that she took not any
delight in her intended visit to Violet Bank, began next to question her
whether it would be possible for her to give it up.
She instantly answered in the affirmative.