am grieved!--but it is past, and nothing, therefore, remains, but that I
try to forget I ever was richer!”
“This is very youthful philosophy,” said Mr Monckton; “but it will not
lessen your regret hereafter, when the value of money is better known to
you.”
“If I shall dearly buy my experience,” said Cecilia, “let me be the
more attentive to making good use of it; and, since my loss seems
irremediable to myself, let me at least endeavour to secure its utility
to Mr Harrel.”
She then told him her wish to propose to that gentleman some scheme of
reformation, while yesterday's events were yet recent in his mind: but
Mr Monckton, who had hardly patience to hear her, exclaimed, “He is a
wretch, and deserves the full force of the disgrace he is courting. What
is now most necessary is to guard you from his further machinations, for
you may else be involved in ruin as deep as his own. He now knows the
way to frighten you, and he will not fail to put it in practice.”
“No, Sir,” answered Cecilia, “he would vainly apply to me in future: I
cannot repent that I ventured not yesterday to brave his menaces, but
too little is the comfort I feel from what I have bestowed, to suffer
any consideration to make me part with more.”
“Your resolution,” answered he, “will be as feeble as your generosity
will be potent: depend nothing upon yourself, but instantly quit
his house. You will else be made responsible for every debt that he
contracts; and whatever may be his difficulties hereafter, he will know
that to extricate himself from them, he has but to talk of dying, and to
shew you a sword or a pistol.”
“If so, then,” said Cecilia, looking down while she spoke, “I suppose I
must again go to Mr Delvile's.”
This was by no means the purpose of Mr Monckton, who saw not more danger
to her fortune with one of her guardians, than to her person with the
other. He ventured, therefore, to recommend to her a residence with
Mr Briggs, well knowing that his house would be a security against her
seeing any man equal to himself, and hoping that under his roof he might
again be as unrivalled in her opinion and esteem, as he formerly was in
the country.
But here the opposition of Cecilia was too earnest for any hope that
it might be surmounted; for, added to her dislike of Mr Briggs,
her repugnance to such an habitation was strongly, though silently
increased, by her secret inclination to return to St James's-square.
“I mention not Mr Briggs as an eligible host,” said Mr Monckton, after
listening to her objections, “but merely as one more proper for you than
Mr Delvile, with whom your fixing at present would but be ill thought of
in the world.”
“Ill thought of, Sir? Why so?”
“Because he has a son; for whose sake alone it would be universally
concluded you changed your abode: and to give any pretence for such
a report, would by no means accord with the usual delicacy of your
conduct.”
Cecilia was confounded by this speech: the truth of the charge she felt,
and the probability of the censure she did not dare dispute.
He then gave her a thousand exhortations to beware of the schemes and
artifices of Mr Harrel, which he foresaw would be innumerable. He told
her, too, that with respect to Sir Robert Floyer, he thought she had
better suffer the report to subside of itself, which in time it must
necessarily do, than give to it so much consequence as to send a message
to the Baronet, from which he might pretend to infer that hitherto she
had been wavering, or she would have sent to him sooner.
But the real motive of this advice was, that as he found Sir Robert by
no means to be dreaded, he hoped the report, if generally circulated
and credited, might keep off other pretenders, and intimidate or deceive
young Delvile.
The purport for which Cecilia had wished this conference was, however,
wholly unanswered; Mr Monckton, enraged by the conduct of Mr Harrel,
refused to talk of his affairs, and could only mention him with
detestation: but Cecilia, less severe in her judgment, and more tender
in her heart, would not yet give up the hope of an amendment she so
anxiously wished; and having now no other person to whom she could
apply, determined to consult with Mr Arnott, whose affection for his
sister would give him a zeal in the affair that might somewhat supply
the place of superior abilities. There was, indeed, no time to be lost
in making the projected attempt, for no sooner was the immediate danger
of suffering removed, than the alarm wore away, and the penitence was
forgotten; every thing went on as usual, no new regulations were made,
no expences abated, no pleasures forborn, not a thought of hereafter
admitted: and ruinous and terrible as had been the preceding storm, no
trace of it was visible in the serenity of the present calm.
An occasion of discussion with Mr Arnott very speedily offered. Mr
Harrel said he had observed in the looks of his friends at the Pantheon
much surprise at the sight of him, and declared he should take yet
another measure for removing all suspicion. This was to give a splendid
entertainment at his own house to all his acquaintance, to which he
meant to invite every body of any consequence he had ever seen, and
almost every body he had ever heard of, in his life.
Levity so unfeeling, and a spirit of extravagance so irreclaimable, were
hopeless prognostics; yet Cecilia would not desist from her design. She
therefore took the earliest opportunity of speaking with Mr Arnott upon
the subject, when she openly expressed her uneasiness at the state of
his brother's affairs, and warmly acknowledged her displeasure at his
dissipated way of life.
Mr Arnott soon shewed that example was all he wanted to declare the same
sentiments. He owned he had long disapproved the conduct of Mr Harrel,
and trembled at the situation of his sister. They then considered
what it was possible to propose that might retrieve their affairs, and
concluded that entirely to quit London for some years, was the only
chance that remained of saving them from absolute destruction.
Mr Arnott, therefore, though fearfully, and averse to the talk, told his
sister their mutual advice. She thanked him, said she was much obliged
to him, and would certainly consider his proposal, and mention it to Mr
Harrel.--Parties of pleasure, however, intervened, and the promise was
neglected.
Cecilia then again spoke herself. Mrs Harrel, much softened by her
late acts of kindness, was no longer offended by her interference, but
contented herself with confessing that she quite hated the country,
and could only bear to live in it in summer time. And when Cecilia very
earnestly expostulated on the weakness of such an objection to a step
absolutely necessary for her future safety and happiness, she said, _she
could do no worse than that if already ruined_, and therefore that
she thought _it would be very hard to expect from her such a sacrifice
before-hand_.
It was in vain Cecilia remonstrated: Mrs Harrel's love of pleasure was
stronger than her understanding, and therefore, though she listened to
her with patience, she concluded with the same answer she had begun.
Cecilia then, though almost heartless, resolved upon talking with Mr
Harrel himself: and therefore, taking an opportunity which he had not
time to elude, she ingenuously told him her opinion of his danger, and
of the manner in which it might be avoided.
He paid unusual attention to her advice, but said she was much mistaken
with respect to his affairs, which he believed he should now very
speedily retrieve, as he had had the preceding night an uncommon _run of
luck_, and flattered himself with being able very shortly to pay all his
debts, and begin the world again upon a new score.
This open confession of gaming was but a new shock to Cecilia, who
scrupled not to represent to him the uncertainty of so hazardous a
reliance, and the inevitable evils of so destructive a practice.
She made not, however, the least impression upon his mind; he assured
her he doubted not giving her shortly a good account of himself, and
that living in the country was a resource of desperation which need not
be anticipated.
Cecilia, though grieved and provoked by their mutual folly and
blindness, could proceed no further: advice and admonition she spared
not, but authority she had none to use. She regretted her ineffectual
attempt to Mr Arnott, who was yet more cruelly afflicted at it; but
though they conversed upon the subject by every opportunity, they were
equally unable to relate any success from their efforts, or to devise
any plan more likely to ensure it.
CHAPTER viii
A MISTAKE.
Mean time young Delvile failed not to honour Cecilia's introduction
of him to Mr Harrel, by waiting upon that gentleman as soon as the ill
effects of his accident at the Pantheon permitted him to leave his own
house. Mr Harrel, though just going out when he called, was desirous of
being upon good terms with his family, and therefore took him up stairs
to present him to his lady, and invited him to tea and cards the next
evening.
Cecilia, who was with Mrs Harrel, did not see him without emotion; which
was not much lessened by the task of thanking him for his assistance at
the Pantheon, and enquiring how he had himself fared. No sign, however,
of emotion appeared in return, either when he first addressed, or
afterwards answered her: the look of solicitude with which she had been
so much struck when they last parted was no longer discernible, and the
voice of sensibility which had removed all her doubts, was no longer to
be heard. His general ease, and natural gaiety were again unruffled, and
though he had never seemed really indifferent to her, there was not the
least appearance of any added partiality.
Cecilia felt an involuntary mortification as she observed this change:
yet, upon reflection, she still attributed his whole behaviour to his
mistake with respect to her situation, and therefore was but the more
gratified by the preference he occasionally betrayed.
The invitation for the next evening was accepted, and Cecilia, for once,
felt no repugnance to joining the company. Young Delvile again was in
excellent spirits; but though his chief pleasure was evidently derived
from conversing with her, she had the vexation to observe that he seemed
to think her the undoubted property of the Baronet, always retreating
when he approached, and as careful, when next her, to yield his place if
he advanced, as, when he was distant, to guard it from all others.
But when Sir Robert was employed at cards, all scruples ceasing, he
neglected not to engross her almost wholly. He was eager to speak to
her of the affairs of Mr Belfield, which he told her wore now a better
aspect. The letter, indeed, of recommendation which he had shewn to her,
had failed, as the nobleman to whom it was written had already entered
into an engagement for his son; but he had made application elsewhere
which he believed would be successful, and he had communicated his
proceedings to Mr Belfield, whose spirits he hoped would recover by this
prospect of employment and advantage. “It is, however, but too true,”
he added, “that I have rather obtained his consent to the steps I am
taking, than his approbation of them: nor do I believe, had I previously
consulted him, I should have had even that. Disappointed in his higher
views, his spirit is broken, and he is heartless and hopeless, scarce
condescending to accept relief, from the bitter remembrance that he
expected preferment. Time, however, will blunt this acute sensibility,
and reflection will make him blush at this unreasonable delicacy. But we
must patiently soothe him till he is more himself, or while we mean to
serve, we shall only torment him. Sickness, sorrow, and poverty have all
fallen heavily upon him, and they have all fallen at once: we must not,
therefore, wonder to find him intractable, when his mind is as much
depressed, as his body is enervated.”
Cecilia, to whom his candour and generosity always gave fresh delight,
strengthened his opinions by her concurrence, and confirmed his designs
by the interest which she took in them.
From this time, he found almost daily some occasion for calling in
Portman-square. The application of Cecilia in favour of Mr Belfield gave
him a right to communicate to her all his proceedings concerning him;
and he had some letter to shew, some new scheme to propose, some refusal
to lament, or some hope to rejoice over, almost perpetually: or even
when these failed, Cecilia had a cold, which he came to enquire
after, or Mrs Harrel gave him an invitation, which rendered any excuse
unnecessary. But though his intimacy with Cecilia was encreased, though
his admiration of her was conspicuous, and his fondness for her society
seemed to grow with the enjoyment of it, he yet never manifested any
doubt of her engagement with the Baronet, nor betrayed either intention
or desire to supplant him. Cecilia, however, repined not much at the
mistake, since she thought it might be instrumental to procuring her
a more impartial acquaintance with his character, than she could
rationally expect, if, as she hoped, the explanation of his error should
make him seek her good opinion with more study and design.
To satisfy herself not only concerning the brother but the sister, she
again visited Miss Belfield, and had the pleasure of finding her in
better spirits, and hearing that the _noble friend_ of her brother, whom
she had already mentioned, and whom Cecilia had before suspected to be
young Delvile, had now pointed out to him a method of conduct by
which his affairs might be decently retrieved, and himself creditably
employed. Miss Belfield spoke of the plan with the highest satisfaction;
yet she acknowledged that her mother was extremely discontented with it,
and that her brother himself was rather led by shame than inclination to
its adoption. Yet he was evidently easier in his mind, though far from
happy, and already so much better, that Mr Rupil said he would very soon
be able to leave his room.
Such was the quiet and contented situation of Cecilia, when one evening,
which was destined for company at home, while she was alone in the
drawing-room, which Mrs Harrel had just left to answer a note, Sir
Robert Floyer accidentally came up stairs before the other gentlemen.
“Ha!” cried he, the moment he saw her, “at last have I the good fortune
to meet with you alone! this, indeed, is a favour I thought I was always
to be denied.”
He was then approaching her; but Cecilia, who shrunk involuntarily at
the sight of him, was retreating hastily to quit the room, when suddenly
recollecting that no better opportunity might ever offer for a
final explanation with him, she irresolutely stopt; and Sir Robert,
immediately following, took her hand, and pressing it to his lips as
she endeavoured to withdraw it, exclaimed, “You are a most charming
creature!” when the door was opened, and young Delvile at the same
moment was announced and appeared.
Cecilia, colouring violently, and extremely chagrined, hastily
disengaged herself from his hold. Delvile seemed uncertain whether he
ought not to retire, which Sir Robert perceiving, bowed to him with an
air of mingled triumph and vexation, and said, “Sir your most obedient!”
The doubt, however, in which every one appeared of what was next to
be done, was immediately removed by the return of Mrs Harrel, and the
arrival at almost the same moment of more company.
The rest of the evening was spent, on the part of Cecilia, most
painfully: the explanation she had planned had ended in worse than
nothing, for by suffering the Baronet to detain her, she had rather
shewn a disposition to oblige, than any intention to discard him; and
the situation in which she had been surprised by young Delvile, was the
last to clear the suspicions she so little wished him to harbour: while,
on his part, the accident seemed to occasion no other alteration than
that of rendering him more than usually assiduous to give way to Sir
Robert whenever he approached her.
Nor was Sir Robert slack in taking advantage of this attention: he was
highly in spirits, talked to her with more than common freedom, and wore
the whole evening an air of exulting satisfaction.
Cecilia, provoked by this presumption, hurt by the behaviour of young
Delvile, and mortified by the whole affair, determined to leave this
mistake no longer in the power of accident, but to apply immediately
to Mr Delvile senior, and desire him, as her guardian, to wait upon Sir
Robert himself, and acquaint him that his perseverance in pursuing her
was both useless and offensive: and by this method she hoped at once
to disentangle herself for ever from the Baronet, and to discover more
fully the sentiments of young Delvile: for the provocation she had
just endured, robbed her of all patience for waiting the advice of Mr
Monckton.
CHAPTER ix
AN EXPLANATION.
The following morning, therefore, Cecilia went early to St
James's-square: and, after the usual ceremonies of messages and long
waiting, she was shewn into an apartment where she found Mr Delvile and
his son.
She rejoiced to see them together, and determined to make known to them
both the purport of her visit: and therefore, after some apologies and a
little hesitation, she told Mr Delvile, that encouraged by his offers of
serving her, she had taken the liberty to call upon him with a view to
entreat his assistance.
Young Delvile, immediately arising, would have quitted the room; but
Cecilia, assuring him she rather desired what she had to say should be
known than kept secret, begged that he would not disturb himself.
Delvile, pleased with this permission to hear her, and curious to know
what would follow, very readily returned to his seat.
“I should by no means,” she continued, “have thought of proclaiming
even to the most intimate of my friends, the partiality which Sir Robert
Floyer has been pleased to shew me, had he left to me the choice of
publishing or concealing it: but, on the contrary, his own behaviour
seems intended not merely to display it, but to insinuate that it
meets with my approbation. Mr Harrel, also, urged by too much warmth
of friendship, has encouraged this belief; nor, indeed, do I know at
present where the mistake stops, nor what it is report has not scrupled
to affirm. But I think I ought no longer to neglect it, and therefore
I have presumed to solicit your advice in what manner I may most
effectually contradict it.”
The extreme surprise of young Delvile at this speech was not more
evident than pleasant to Cecilia, to whom it accounted for all that had
perplext her in his conduct, while it animated every expectation she
wished to encourage.
“The behaviour of Mr Harrel,” answered Mr Delvile, “has by no means been
such as to lead me to forget that his father was the son of a steward of
Mr Grant, who lived in the neighbourhood of my friend and relation the
Duke of Derwent: nor can I sufficiently congratulate myself that I have
always declined acting with him. The late Dean, indeed, never committed
so strange an impropriety as that of nominating Mr Harrel and Mr Briggs
coadjutors with Mr Delvile. The impropriety, however, though extremely
offensive to me, has never obliterated from my mind the esteem I
bore the Dean: nor can I possibly give a greater proof of it than the
readiness I have always shewn to offer my counsel and instruction to his
niece. Mr Harrel, therefore, ought certainly to have desired Sir Robert
Floyer to acquaint me with his proposals before he gave to him any
answer.”
“Undoubtedly, Sir,” said Cecilia, willing to shorten this parading
harangue, “but as he neglected that intention, will you think me too
impertinent should I entreat the favour of you to speak with Sir Robert
yourself, and explain to him the total inefficacy of his pursuit, since
my determination against him is unalterable?”
Here the conference was interrupted by the entrance of a servant who
said something to Mr Delvile, which occasioned his apologizing to
Cecilia for leaving her for a few moments, and ostentatiously assuring
her that no business, however important, should prevent his thinking of
her affairs, or detain him from returning to her as soon as possible.
The astonishment of young Delvile at the strength of her last expression
kept him silent some time after his father left the room; and then, with
a countenance that still marked his amazement, he said “Is it possible,
Miss Beverley, that I should twice have been thus egregiously deceived?
or rather, that the whole town, and even the most intimate of your
friends, should so unaccountably have persisted in a mistake.”
“For the town,” answered Cecilia, “I know not how it can have had any
concern in so small a matter; but for my intimate friends, I have
too few to make it probable they should ever have been so strangely
misinformed.”
“Pardon me,” cried he, “it was from one who ought to know, that I had
myself the intelligence.”
“I entreat you, then,” said Cecilia, “to acquaint me who it was?”
“Mr Harrel himself; who communicated it to a lady in my hearing, and at
a public place.”
Cecilia cast up her eyes in wonder and indignation at a proof so
incontrovertible of his falsehood, but made not any answer.
“Even yet,” continued he, “I can scarcely feel undeceived;
your engagement seemed so positive, your connection so
irretrievable,--so,--so _fixed_, I mean.--”
He hesitated, a little embarrassed; but then suddenly exclaimed, “Yet
whence, if to _neither_ favourable, if indifferent alike to Sir Robert
and to Belfield, whence that animated apprehension for their safety at
the Opera-house? whence that never to be forgotten _oh stop him! good
God! will nobody stop him!_--Words of anxiety so tender! and sounds that
still vibrate in my ear!”
Cecilia, struck with amazement in her turn at the strength of his own
expressions, blushed, and for a few minutes hesitated how to answer him:
but then, to leave nothing that related to so disagreeable a report in
any doubt, she resolved to tell him ingenuously the circumstances that
had occasioned her alarm: and therefore, though with some pain to her
modesty, she confessed her fears that she had herself provoked the
affront, though her only view had been to discountenance Sir Robert,
without meaning to shew any distinction to Mr Belfield.
Delvile, who seemed charmed with the candour of this explanation, said,
when she had finished it, “You are then at liberty?---Ah madam!--how
many may rue so dangerous a discovery!”
“Could you think,” said Cecilia, endeavouring to speak with her usual
ease, “that Sir Robert Floyer would be found so irresistible?”
“Oh no!” cried he, “far otherwise; a thousand times I have wondered at
his happiness; a thousand times, when I have looked at you, and
listened to you, I have thought it impossible!--yet my authority seemed
indisputable. And how was I to discredit what was not uttered as a
conjecture, but asserted as a fact? asserted, too, by the guardian with
whom you lived? and not hinted as a secret, but affirmed as a point
settled?”
“Yet surely,” said Cecilia, “you have heard me make use of expressions
that could not but lead you to suppose there was some mistake, whatever
might be the authority which had won your belief.”
“No,” answered he, “I never supposed any mistake, though sometimes I
thought you repented your engagement. I concluded, indeed, you had
been unwarily drawn in, and I have even, at times, been tempted to
acknowledge my suspicions to you, state your independence, and exhort
you--as a _friend_, exhort you--to use it with spirit, and, if you were
shackled unwillingly, incautiously, or unworthily, to break the chains
by which you were confined, and restore to yourself that freedom of
choice upon the use of which all your happiness must ultimately depend.
But I doubted if this were honourable to the Baronet,--and what, indeed,
was my right to such a liberty? none that every man might not be proud
of, a wish to do honour to myself, under the officious pretence of
serving the most amiable of women.”