This is a reproduction of a book from the McGill University Library collection. Title: Cecilia, or, Memoirs of an heiress Volume: 1 Author: Burney, Fanny, 1752-1840 Publisher, year: London : Printed and published by J.F. Dove, [182-?] The pages were digitized as they were. The original book may have contained pages with poor print. Marks, notations, and other marginalia present in the original volume may also appear. For wider or heavier books, a slight curvature to the text on the inside of pages may be noticeable. ISBN of reproduction: 978-1-77096-103-6 This reproduction is intended for personal use only, and may not be reproduced, re-published, or re-distributed commercially. For further information on permission regarding the use of this reproduction contact McGill University Library. McGill University Library www.mcgill. ca/ library Aor *:;‘0 D Yr her final decay became daily more fervent. He knew that the acquaintance of Cecilia was confined to a circle of whi' h he was himself the principal ornament, that she had rejected all the pro[>o~ s its of marriage v/fiich had hitherto been made to her, and, as he had sedulously watched hej from her eaiiicst years, he had reason to believe that her heart had escaped any dange- rous impression. This being her srtuation, he iiai'. ong looked upon her as his future piopeity; as such he had indulged his admiration, and as such nehad already appio- priated her estate, though he had n.it moie vigilantly inspected into her sentiments, than he had guarded his own from a simitar scrutiny Tfre death of the Dean had, indeed, rarich darmed him; he g ieved at her ieavi g Suffolk, wheie he considered him- self the first man, alike in parts and in consequence, and VOL, I. B 1 10 CECILIA. he dreaded her residing in London, where he foresaw that numerous rivals, equal to himself in talents and in riches, would speedily surround her ; rivals too, youthful and san- guine, not shackled by present ties, but at liberty to solicit her immediate acceptance. Beauty and independence, rare- ly found together, would attract a crowd of suitors at once brilliant and assiduous; and the house of Mr. Harre! was eminent for its elegance and gaiety ; but yet undaunted by danger, and confiding in his own powers, he determined to pursue the project he had formed, not fearing by address and perseverance to ensure its success. CHAPTER II. AN ARGUMENT. M!R. MONCKTON had, at this time, a party of com- pany assembled at his house for the purpose of spending the Christmas holidays. He waited with anxiety the arrival of Cecilia, and flew to hand her from the chaise before Mr. Harrel could alight. He observed the melancholy of her countenance, and was much pleased to find that her London journey had so little power to charm her. He conducted her to the breakfast parlour, where Lady Margaret and his friends expected her. Lady Margaret received her with a coldness that bordered upon incivility ; irascible by nature, and jealous by situation, the appearance of beauty alarmed, and of cheerfulnesss disgusted her. She regarded with watchful suspicion who- ever was addressed by her husband, and having marked his frequent attendance at the Deanery, she had singled out Cecilia for the object of her peculiar antipaihy ; while Cecilia, perceiving her aversion, though ignorantof its cause, took care to avoid all intercourse wdth her but what ceremo- ny exacted, and pitied in secret the unfortunate lot of her friend. The company now present consisted of one lady and several gentlemen. Miss Bennet. the lady, was, in every sense of the phrase, the humble companion of Lady Margaret ; she was low CECILIA. 11 born, meanly educated, and narrow-minded ; a stranger alike to innate meric or acquired accomplishments, yet skilful in the art of llattery, and an adept in every species af low-cunning. With no other view in life than the attain- ment of affluence without labour, she was not more the slave of the mistress of the liouse, than the tool of its master ; receiving indignity without murmur, and submitting to contempt as a thing of course. Among the gentlemen, the most conspicuous, by means of his dress, was Mr, Aresby, a captain in the militia; a young man who, having frequently heard the words red-coat and gallantry put together, imagined the conjunction not merely customaiy, .out honourable, and therefore, without even pretending to think of the service of his country, he considered a cockade as a badge of politeness, and wore it but to mark his devotion to the ladies, whom he held him- self equipped to conquer, and bound to adore. The next, who by forwardness the most officious took care to be noticed, was Mr. Morrice, a young lawyer, who, though rising in his profession, owned his success neither to distinguished abilities, nor to skill supplying industry, but to the art of uniting suppleness to others with confidence in himself. To a reverence of rank, talents, and fortune, the most profound, he Joined an assurance in his own merit, which no superiority could depress ; and with a presump- tion which encouraged him to aim at all things, he blended a good-humour that no mortification could lessen. And while by the pliability of his disposition he avoided making -enemies, by his readiness to oblige, he learned the surest way of making friends, by becoming useful to them. There were also some neighbouring squires ; and there was one old gentleman, who, without seeming to notice any of the company, sat frowning in a coiner. But the principal figure in the circle was Mr. Belfield, a tall, tliin, young man, whose face was all animation, and whose eyes sparkled with intelligence. He had been intend- ed by his father for trade, but his spiiit soaring above the occupation for which he was designed, from r. pining led him to resist, and from resisting, to rebel. He eloped from his friends, and contrived to enter the army. But, fond of the polite arts, and eager for the acquirement of knowledge, s 2 32 CECILIA. he found not this way of life much better adapted to, his inclination than that from which he had escaped ; he soon grew weary of it, was reconcihd to his father, and enteied at the Temple. But here, too volatile for serious study, and too gay for laborious application, he made little progiess : and the same quicknessof paitsand vigour ofimagination wliich, united w ith ptudence or accompanied by judgment, might have raised him to the liead of his professum being unhap- pily associated with fickleness and caprice, served on’y to impede Ids improvement and obstruct his piclciment. And no\v, with littu business, and that little neglected, a small fortune, and that fortune daily beconiing less, the admiration of the world, but that admiration ending simply in civility, he lived an unsettled and utiprofitable liic, gene- tally canessed, and Uidvcrsally sought, yet catciess of his inteicst, and thou-.’itless of the future, devoting his time to company, his inconte to cdssip.ition, and ids heait to the muses. “ I bring you,” said jMr Monckton, as he attended Cecilia into the room, ‘‘a subject of sorrow in a young lady ^vho never gave disturbance to her friends but in quitting them.” “ If sorrow,” cried Mr. Belficld, darting upon her his piercing eyes, “wcats in your patt of the wot lei a form' such a.s this, who would wish to change it for a view of joy ? “ She’s d ivineiy handsome indeed !” cried the captain, affect i ng an involiintaiy exc atnation, Mean time, Cecilia, who was placed next tire lady of the house, quietly began her breakfast ; Mr. Mortice, the young lawyer, with the most easy freedom, seating himself at her side, while Mr Monckton was elsevvhere arrangitig the rest of Ids guests, in order to secure that place for himself. Mr. Morrice, without ceremon)- attacked his fair neigh' hour; he talked of her journey , and the prospects of gaiety ■which it opened to her view ; but by these finding her un- moved, he changed his ilieme and expatiated ujjon the delights of the spot she was quitting. Studious to recom- mend himself to her notice, and indifferent by v. hat means, one moment he flipp ntly extolled the entertainments of the town ; and the next rapturously described the charms oi the country. A word, a look, sufficed to mark her approbation CECILIA. 13 f)r dissent, which he no sooner discovcied, than he slided m to her opiidon, with as much faciiiiy and saii'-idction as if it had orit^inal’!) been his own. Ml. Munckion, suppressing his chagrin, waited some time in expectation that when this young man saw he was standing, he would yield to him his chaii : but the remark. W'as not made, and tiie resignation wms not thought of. The captain, too, .ei-aiding the lady as Ins natural property for the morning, pctceived with indignation by whom he was supp:anied ;• while the t ompany in general saw, with much surprize, the plat e they had severally forborne to occupy from respect to their host, thus familiarly seized upon by the man who, in the whole room had the least (l.dm, either from age or rank, to consult nothing but his own inclination Mr. Monckton, however, when he found tliat delicacy and good manners had no weight with his guest, thought it most expedient to allow theui none with himscif; and there- foie, disguising his dispieasuie under aii appearanceoffa- cetiousness, he called out, “Come, Morrice, you that love Christinas sports, what say you to the game of move-all ?” “ 1 like it of all things 1’ answ'cred Morrice, and starting from his chair, he s.kipped to another, “So sli JUid 1 roof’ cried Mr. Moirnkton, instantly tak- ing his place, “ were I to lemove fiom any seat but this,” Mol Tee, ihougn he felt himscif outwitted, wa^- the hist to laugn. and seemed as happy in the change as Mi. Monckton himse.f. Mi Monckton now, addiessing himself to Cecilia, said, “ Vv'e are going to 'lose you, and you seem concerned at leaving us ; yet, in a very few months, you will forget Buiy fuiget its inhaoitants, and forget its environs “ If you tliink so,” answeied Cecilia, “ must I not thence, infer that Buiy, its inhabitants, and its environs, will in a vciy lew months forget me?” “.^y, ay. and .‘•o much the better !” said Lady Pvlargaret, muttering between her teeth, “ so much the better'” “ i am sorry you think so, madam,” cried Cecilia, colouring at her ih-biecding. “Yon will find,” said Ml. Monckton, affecting the same ignorance of her meaning that Cecilia really felt, “ as you 14 CECILIA. mix with the world, you will find that Lady Margaret hatli but expressed wiiat by almost every body is thought : to neglect old ft lends , and to court new acquaintance, though perhaps net yet avowedly delivered as a precept from parents to children, is neveithdess so universally recommended by example, that those who act differently, incur general cen- sure for affcctitjg singularity.” “ It is happy then, for me,” answered Cecilia, “ that neither my actions, nor myself, will be sufficiently known to attract public observation.” “You intend, then, madam,” said Mr. Belfield, “in defiance of these maxims of the world, to be guided by the light of your own understanding,” “ And such,” returned Mr. Monckton, “ at first setting out in life, is the intention of every one. The closet reason- er is always refined in his sentiments, and always Confident in his virtue, but when he mixes with the world, when he thinks less and acts more, he soon finds the necessity of accommodating himself to such customs as are already received, and of pursuing quietly the ttack that is already marked out.” “ But not,” exclaimed Mr. Belfield, “ if he has the least grain of spirit! the beaten track will be the last that a man of parts will deign to tread — For common rules were ne’er designed Directors of a noble mind.” “ A pernicious maxim I a most pernicious maxim!’" cried the old gentleman who sat frowning in a corner of the room, “ Deviations from common rules,” said Mr. Monckton, without taking any notice of this interruption, “ when they proceed from genius, are not merely pardonable, but admi- rable ; and you , Belfield, have a peculiar right to plead their merits ; but so little genius as there is in the world, you must surely grant that pleas of this sort are veiy rarely to be iurged,” “ And why rarely,” cried Belfield, “ but because your -general rules, your appropriated customs, your settled forms, are but so many absurd arrangements to impede not merely CECILIA. the progress of genius, but the use of understanding? If man dared act for himself, if neither worldly views, con- tracted prejudices, eternal precepts, nor compulsive exam- ples, swayed his better reason and impelled his conduct, how noble indeed would he be! how injinite in faculties ! in apprehension how like a God /’'* “ All tills, ” answered Mr. Monckton, “ is but the doctrine of a’llvely imagination, that looks upon impossibi- lities simply as difficulties, and. upon difficulties as mere invitations to victory. But experience teaches another lesson; expeiience shews that the opposition of an indivi- dual to a community is always dangerous in the operation, and seldom successful in the event ; — never, indeed, without a concurren e, strange as desirable, of fortunate ciicum- stances with great abilities,” “ And why is this,” returned Beffield, “ but because the attempt is so seldom made? The pitiful prevalence of gene- ral confotmitv extirpates genius, and murders originality ; man is brought up, not as if he weie “ the noblest work of God,” but as a mere ductile machine of human formation ; he is early taught that he must neither consult his under- standing, nor pu: sue his inclinations, lest unhappily for his commerce with the world his understanding should be averse to fools, and provoke him to despise them : and his inclinations to tlie tyranny of pel petual restraint, and give him courage to adjuie it.” “ I am ready enough to allow,” answered Mr. Monckton, “ that an excenu ic genius, su h, for example, as your's, may murmur at the tediousness of complying with the customs of the world , and wi li unconfined and at large, to range through life, without any sett'ed plan or prudential .restriction ; but would you, ibeiefjre, grant the same licence to every one ? would you wish to ste the world peopled with defiers of order, and contemners of established forms ? and not merely excuse the irregularities resulting from uncommon parts, but encourage those, also, to lead, who without blundering cannot even follow ?” “ 1 would have a// men,” replied Belfield, “ whether philosophers or ideois, act for themselves. Every one wmuld then appear what he is ; enterprizc would be en.C0ux,afie€l, * Hamlet. 16 CECILIA. and imitation abolished ; genius would feel its superiority, and folly its insignificance ; and then, and then only, should we cease to be surfeited with that eternal samene^ss of man- ner and appearance which at present runs through all ranks of men.” Petrifying dull woik this, mon ami I” said the captair?, in a whisfCi to Mort ice : de ace , start some new game.” “ With all my heart,” answered he; and then, suddenly jumping rrp, e.xclaimed, “ A hare! a hare!” “ Wheie? wliere? — which way ?” and all the gentlemen arose, and ran to different windows, except the master of the house, the object of w'hose pursuit 'was already near him. Mortice, vvidi much pretmded earnestness, flew fiom window to window, to trace footsteps upon the turf which he knew had not piinted ir ; yci, neve' inattentive to his own interest, when he p 'ceived, in the midst of the com- bustion he iiad rai.sed, that Lady Margaiet was incensed at the-noise it p'oduced, heaitfuliy gave over his search, and seating himself in a chair next to her eagerly offered to assist her with cakes, chocoi ate, or whatever the table afforded. He had, however, effectually broken up the conversation; arif. bmakfast being over, Mr. Harrei ordered his chaise, and Cc-cili.i arose to lake leave. And now not wirhour some difficulty could Mr Monck- toi! disguise the urieasv tear s whi- h fier departure oci asi-ui- ed him. Lakuag hci hand, “ii suppose, ' he said, “you v^il•l not : (rmit an old friend to visit you in town, lest the sight of him sitouid piov. a disagieeable memoilal of the time you will soon regret having wasted in the country?” “ Why will you say thi., Mr. Monckton ?” cried Cecilia ; “ I am sure you cannot think it,” “ These profound studieis of mankind,' iTjadam,” said Beiheld, “ are mighty sorry champions for constancy or frii ii ;sh;p. They w n the new scenes she win see, the new acquaintance she must make, CECILIA. 17 and the new connexions she may form, you will not won- der at the anxiety of a friend for her welfare,” “ But I presume,” cried Belfield, with a laugh, “ Miss Beverley does not mean to convey her person to town, and leave her understanding locked up, with other natural curi- osities, in the country. Why, therefore, may not the same discernment regulate her adoption of new acquaintance, and choice of new connections, that guided her selection of old ones ? do you suppose that because she is to take leave of you, she is to take leave of herself ?” “ Where fortune smiles upon youth and beauty,” answer- ed Mr. Monckton, “ do you think it nothing that their fair possessor should make a sudden transition of situation, from the quietness of a retired life in the country, to the gaiety of a splendid town residence ?” “ Where fortune frowns upon youth and beauty,” return- ed Belfield, “ they may not irrationally excite commissera- tion ; but where nature and chance unite their forces to bless the same object, what room there maybe for alarm or lamentation I confess I cannot divine.” “ What !” cried Mr. Monckton with some emotion, “ are there not sharpers, fortune-hunters, sycophants, wretches ofall sorts and denominations, who watch the ap- proach of the rich and unwary, feed upon their inexperience, and prey upon their property ?” “ Come, come,” cried Mr. Harrel, “ it is time I should hasten my fair ward away, if this is your method of de- scribing the place she is going to live in.” “Is it possible,” cried the captain, advancing to Cecilia, “ that this lady has never yet tried the town?” and then lowering his voice, and smiling languishingly in her face, he added, “ Can any thing so divinely handsome have been immured in the country ' Ah ! ^ue//e horde ! do you make it a principle to be so cruel ?” Cecilia thinking such a compliment merited not any other notice than a slight bow, turned to Lady Margaret, and said, “ Should your ladyship be in town this winter, may I expect the honour of hearing where 1 may wait upon you ?” “ I don’t know whether I shall go or not,” answered the old lady, with her usual ungraciousness. VOL. I. G 1 IS Cecilia. Cecilia Would now have hastened away, but Mr. Mdnck- ton stopping her again, expressed his fears of the corise- quences of her journey ; “ Be upon your guard,” he cried, “ with all new acquaintance; judge nobody from appear- ances ; form no friendship rashly; take time to look about you, and remember you can make noalteration in your way of life without greater probability of faring worse, than chance of faring better. Keep therefore as you are, and the more you see of others, the more you will rejoice that you neither resemble nor are connected with them,” “This from you, Mr. Moncktoni” cried Belfield, “ what is become of your conformity system ? I thought all the world was to be alike, or only so much the worse for any variation !” “ I spoke,” said Mr. Monckton, “ of the world in gene- ral, not of this lady in particular; and who that knows, who that secs her, would not wish it were possible she might continue in every respect exactly and unalterably what she is at present ?” “ I find,” said Cecilia, “you are determined that flattery, at least, should 1 meet with it, should owe no pernicious effects to its novelty.” “ Well, Miss Beverley,” cried Mr. Harrcl, “ will yu now venture to accompany me to town ? O 5 has Mr. Monckton frightened you from proceeding any farther ?” “ If,” replied Cecilia, “ I felt no more sorrow in quit- ting my friends, than I feel torture in venturing to London, with how light a heart should I make the journey !” “ Bravo !” cried Belfield, “ I am happy to find the dis- course of Mr. Monckton has not intimidated you, nor prevailed upon you to deplore your condition, in having the accumulated misery of being young, fair, and affluent.” “ Alas ! poor thing!” exclaimed the old gentleman who sat in the coiner, fixing his eyes upon Cecilia, with an expression of mingled grief and pity. Cecilia started, but no one else paid him any attention. The usual ceremonies of leave-taking now followed, and the Captain, with most obsequious reverence, advanced to conduct Cecilia to the carriage ; but in the midst of the dumb eloquence of his vows and smiles, Mr. Morricc, affecting not to perceive his design, skipped gaily between CECILIA. 19 them, and without any previous formality, seized the hand of Cecilia himself; failing not, however, to temper the free- dom of his action by a look, of respect the most profound. The Captain shrugged and retired. But Mr. Monckton, enraged at his assurance, and determined it should nothing avail him, exclaimed, “ Why, how now, Morrice, do you take away the privilege of my house?” “ True, true,” answered Morrice, “ yoa members of parliament have an undoubted right to be tenacious of your privileges. ’ Then, bowing with a look of veneration to Cecilia, he resigned her hand with an. air of as much hap- piness as he had taken it. Mr. Monckton, in leading her to the chaise, again begged permission to wait upon her in tovvp ; Mr. Harrel took the hint, and entreated him to consider his house as his own ; and Cecilia, gratefully thanking him for his solicitude in her welfare, added, “ And I hope, Sir, you will honour me with your counsels and admonitions with respect to my future conduct, whenever you have the good- ness to let me see you.” This was precisely his wish. He begged, in return, that she would treat him with confidence, and then suffered the chaise to drive off. CHAPTER III. AN ARRIVAL. AS soon as they had lost sight of the house, Cecilia ex- pressed her surprise at the behaviour of the old gentleman who sat in the corner, xyhose general silence, seclusion from the company, and absence of mind, had strongly excited her curiosity. Mr. Hairel could give her very little satisfaction ; he told her that he had twice or thrice met him in public places, wheie every body remarked the singularity of his man- ners and appearance, but that he had never discoursed with any one to whom he seemed known ; and that he was as much surprised as herself in seeing so strange a character at the house of Mr. Monckton. c 2 20 CECILIA, The conversation then turned upon the family they had just quitted, and Cecilia warmly declared the good opinion she had of Mr, Monckton, the obligations she owed to him for the interest which, from her childhood, he had always taken in her affairs : and her hopes of reaping much in- struction from the friendship of a man wdio had so exten- sive a knowledge of the world, Mr, Harrel professed himself well satisfied that she should have such a counsellor •, for though but- little acquainted with him, he knew he was a map of fortune and fashion, and welt esteemed in the world. They mutually compas- sionated his unhappy situation in domestic life, and Cecilia innocently expressed her concern at the dislike Lady Mar- garet seemed to have taken to her ; a dislike which Mr, Harrel naturally imputed to her youth and beauty, yet without suspecting any cause more cogent than a general jealousy of attractions of which she had heiself so long ouu lived the possession. As their journey drew near to its conclusion, all tfie uneasy and disagreeable sensations which in the bosom of Cecilia had accompanied iis commencement, gave way to tlie expectation of quick approaching happiness ip again meeting her favouiite young frierid. Mrs. Harrel had in childhood been her playmate, and in youth her school fellow ; a similarity of disposition with respect to sweetness of tepiper, had early rendered them dear to each other, though the re.semblance extended no, further, Mrs. Hand having no pretensions to the wit or understanding of her xhierul ; but she v\as amiable and obliging, and therefore sufhcicritly deserving affection, though neither blazing with attractions which laid claim to admiration, nor endowed with those superior qualities which mingle respect in tire love they inspire. From the time of hern'aniage, whidi w'at near three years, she had entirely quitted Suffolk, and had had no in- tercourse with Cecilia but by letter. She was now just returned from \ ioiet Bank, the name given by Mr. Har rel to a villa about twelve miles from London, wliere with a large party of company she had spent the Christmas holi- days. Their meeting was tender and affectionate ; the sensibility CECILIA. 21 of Cecilia's heart flowed from her eyes, and the gladness of Mrs- Harrel’s dimpled her cheeks. As soon as their mutual salutations, expressions of kiqd-p ness, and general enquiries had been made, Mis. Hariel begged to lead her to the drawing room, “ where," she ad- ded, “ you will 'see some of my friends, who are impatient to be presented to you." “ 1 could have wished," said Cec ilia, “ after so long an absence, to have pa-sed this first evening alone with you." “They are ah people who particularly desired to sec you," sheanswertd, “ uia 1 had them by way of entertaining you, as 1 was afraid you would be out of spirits at leaving Bury." Cecilia, hnoing thekindness ofher inientions, forboreany further ex post u. a lion, and quietly followed her to the draw- ing-room. But as the door was opened, she was struck with amazement upon finding that the apartment, wliich was spacious, lighted with brilliancy, and decorated with magnificence, was mote than half filled with company, every one of \vhich tvas dressed with gaiety and profusion. Cecilia, who from the word friends, expected to have seen a small and private party, selected for the purjrose of social converse, started involuntarily at the sight before her, and had hardly courage to proceed. Mrs. Harrel, however, took licr hand, and introduced her to the whole company, who were all severally named to her ; a ceremonial which, though not mci'ely agreeable but even necessary to thoiC who live in tlic gay world, in order to obviate distressing mistakes, or unfortunate implications, indiscourse, would by Cecilia have been willingly dispensed with, since to her their names were as new as their persons, and since, knowing nothing of their histories, parties, or connections, she cojuld to nothing allude ; it therefore served but to heighten her colour and increase her em.barrassment., A native dignity of mind, however, which had early taught her to distinguish modesty from bashfulness, enabled her in a short time to conquer her sut prise, and recover her composure. She entreated Mrs. Harrel to apologize for her, appearance, and being seated between two young ladies, endeavoured to seem reconciled to it herself. Nor was this very difficult ; for while her dress, vvhicl:^ she had not chariged since her journey, joined to the UiOvel-. 22 CECILIA. ty of her face, attracted general observation, the report of her fortune, which had preceded her entrance, secured her general respect. She soon fuund, too, that a company was not necessarily formidable because full dressed, that familia- rity could be united with magnificence, and that though, to her, every one seemed attired to walk in a procession, or to grace a drawing-room, no formality was assumed, and no solemnity was affected : every one vvas without restraint, even rank obtained but little distinction ; ease was the general plan, and entertainment the general pursuit. Cecilia, though new to London, which citythe ill health of her uncle 'had hitherto prevented her from seeing, was yet no stranger to company ; she had passed her time in letire- ment, but not in obscurity, since for some years past she had presided at the table of the Dean, who was visited by the first people of the country in which he lived : and notwithstanding his parties, W'hicli were frequent, though small ,and elegant, though private, had not prepared her for the splendour or the diversity of a London assembly, they yet, by initiating her in the practical rules of good-breeding, had taught her to subdue the timid fears of total inexperi- ence, and to repress the bashful feelings of shamefeced aukwardness ; feats and feelings which rather call for com-* passion than admiration, and which, except in extreme youth, serve but to degrade the modesty they indicate. She regarded, therefore, the two young ladies between whom she w is seated, rather with a wish of addressing, than a shyness of b' ing attracted by them ; ‘but the elder, Miss Larolles, was earnr stly engaged in a discourse with a gentle- man, and the younger , Miss Leeson, totally discouraged her, by the invariable silence and gravity with which from time to time she met her eyes. Uninterrupted, therefore, except by occasional speeches from Mr. and Mrs. Harrel, she spent the first part of the evening merely in surveying tire company. Nor W'S the company dilatory in returning her notice, since from the time of her entrance into the room, she had been the object of general regard The 1 i lies rook an exact inventory of her dress, and inter- nal!', settled how dilferently they would have been attired if blest with equal affluence. CECILIA. 23 The tnen disputed among themselves whether or not she was painted ; and one of them asserting boldly that she rouged well, a debate ensued, which ended in a bet, and the decision was mutually agreed to depend upon the colour of her cheeks by the beginning of April, when, if unladed by bad hours and continual dissipation, they wore the same bright bloom with which they were now glowing, her champion acknowledged that his wager would be lost. Jn about half an hour the gentleman with whom Miss Larolles had been talking, left the room, and then that young lady, turning suddenly to Cecilia, exclaimed, “ How- odd Mr. Meadows is! Do you know he says he shan’t be well enough to go to Lady Nyland’s assembly? How ridi- culous ! as if that could hurt him.” Cecilia, surprised at an attack so little ceremonious, lent her a civil but silent attention. “ You shall be there, sha n't you ?” she added. “ No, ma'am, I have not the honour of being at all known to her ladyship.” “ O there’s nothing in that,” returned she, “ for Mrs. Harrel can acquaint her you are here, and then you know, she'll send you a ticket, and then you can g,o.” “ A ticket!” repeated Cecilia, “ does Lady Nylandonly admit her company vvir.h tickets ?” “ O Lord,” cried Miss Larolles, laughing immoderately, “ don’t you know what 1 mean? Why a ticket is only a visiting card, with a name upon it; but we call them tickets now.” Cecilia thanked her for the information, and then Miss Larolles enquired ho v many miles she had travelled since morning ? “ Seventy-three ;” answered Cecilia, “ which I hope will plead my apology for being so little dressed.” “ O, >ou're vastly well,” returned the other, “ and for my pait, I never think about dress. But only conceive what happened to me last year! Do you know I came to town the twentieth of March ! Was not that horrid pro- voking ?” “ Perhaps so,” said Cecilia, “but I am sure I cannot tell why.” “ Not tell why?” repeated Miss Larolles, “ why don’t CECILIA. U you know it was the very night of the grand private masquerade at Lord Darien’s? I would not have missed it for the whole universe, I never travelled in such an agony in my life : we did not get to town till monstrous late, and then do you know I had neither a ticker nor a habit ! Only conceive what a distress ! Well, 1 sent to every creature I knew for a ticket, but they dl said there was not one to be had; so I was just like a mad creature but about tenor eleven o’clock, a young lady of my particular acquaintance, by the greatest good luck in the woiid, happened to be taken suddenly ill ; so she sent me her ticket — was not that de- lightful?” “ For her, extremely!” said Cecilia, laughing. “ Well,” she continued, “ then I was almost out of my wits with joy ; and I went about, and got one of the sweeu cst dresses you ever sa’>v. Jf you’ll call upon me some morning, I’ll shew it you.” * Cecilia, not prepared for an invitation so abrupt, bowed without speaking, and Miss Larolles, too happy in talking herself to be offended at the silence of another, continued her narration. “ Well, but now comes the vilest part of the business } do you know wiien every thing else w'as ready, I could not get my hair-dresser ? I sent all over the tewn — he was no where to be found ; I thought I should have died with vex- ation ; 1 assuie you I cried so, that if I had not gone in a mask, I should have been ashamed to be seen. And so, after all this monstrous fatigue, 1 was forced to have my hair dressed by my own maid, quite in a common way ; was it not cruelly, mortifying ?” “ Why yes,” answ'ered Cecilia, “ I should think it was almost sufficient to make you regret the illness of the young lady w'lio sent you licr ticket.” They were now interrupted by Mrs. Harrel, who ad- vanced to them, followed by a young man of a serious aspect and modest demeanour, and said, “ 1 am happy to see you both so well engaged; but my brother has been reproaching me with presenting every body to Miss Bever- ley but himself.” ^ “ I cannot hope,” said Mr. Arnott, “ that I have any place in the recollection of Miss Beverley ; but long as I CECILIA. 25 having been absent from Suifolk, and unfortunate as I was in not seeing her during my last visit there, I am yet sure, even at this distance of time, grown and formed as she is, I should instantly have known her’’' “ Amazing!” cried an elderly gentleman, in a tone of irony, who was standing near them, “ for the face is a very common one!” “ I remember well,” said Cecilia, “ that when you left SufFo k, I thought I had lost my best friend.” “ Is that possible?” cried Mr. Arnott, with a look of mucli delight. Yes, indeed, and, not without reason, for in all disputes you were my advocate, in all plays my companion, and in all difficulties my assistant.” “ Madam,” cried the same gentleman, “ if you liked him because he was your advocate, companion, and assis- tant, pray like me too, for 1 am ready to become all three at once.” “ You are very good,” said Cecilia, laughing, “ but at present I find no want of any defender,” ‘‘ That’s pity,” he returned, “ for Mr, Arnott seems to me very willing to act the same parts over again with you.” “ But for that purpose he must return to the days of his childhood,” “ Ah, would to Heaven it were possible!” cried Mr- Arnott, “ for they were the happiest of my life.” “ After such a confession,” said his companion, “ sure- ly you will let him attempt to renew them ? 'lis but taking a walk backwards ; and though it is very early in life for Mr. Arnott to covet that retrograde motion, which, in the regular course of things, we shall all in our turns sigh for, yet with such a motive as recovering Miss Beverley for a playTellow, who can wonder that he anticipates in youth the hopeful wishes of age?” Here Miss Larolles, who was one of that numerous tribe of young ladies to whom all conversation is irksome in which they are not themselves engaged, quitted her place, of which Mr. Gosport, Cecilia’s new acquaintance, imme- diately took possession. “ It is utterly impossible,” continued this gentleman, “ that i should assist in procuring Mr. Arnott such a VOL. I. D 1 26 CECILIA. renovation. Is there no subaltern part I can perform to facilitate the project ? for 1 ^vill either hide or ieek with any boy in the parish ; and for ^ Q^in the corner, there is none more celebrated.” “ I have no doubt, Sir,” answered Cecilia, “ of your accomplishments, and 1 should be not a little entertained with the surprise of the company, if you could persuade yourself to display them.” “ And what,” cried he, “ could the company do half so well as to arise also, and join in the sport? it would but interrupt some tale of scandal, or some description of a toupee. Active wit, how'ever despicable when compared with intellectual, is yet surely better than the insiinificant click clack of modish conversation, (casting his eyes towards Miss Larolles,) or even the pensive dullness of affected silence,” (changing their direction towards Miss Leeson. ) Cecilia, thoughsurprised at an attack upon the society her friend had selected, by one who was admitted to make apart of it, felt its justice too strongly to be offended at its severity. “ I have often wished,” he continued, “ that when large parties are collected (as here) without any possible reason why they might not as well be separated, something gould be proposed in which each person might innocently take a share ; foi surely, after the first half hour, they can find iittle new to observe in the dress of their neighbours, or to displ. y in their own ; and with whatever seeming gaiety they may contrive to fill up the middie and end of the evening, by wire-drawing the comments afforded by the beginning, they are yet so miserably fatigued, that'if they have not four or five places to run to every night, they suffer nearly as much from weariness of their friends in company, as they would do from weariness of themselves in solitude.” Here, by the general breaking up of the party, the con- versation was interrupted , and Mr. Gosport was obliged to make his exit ; not much to the regret of Cecilia, wfio was impatient to be alone with Mjs. Harrel. The rest of the evening, therefore, was spent much more to her satisfaction ; it was devoted to fiiendship, to mutual* enquiries, to kind congratulations, and endearing recollec- tions ; and diough it was late when shcvretired, she retired with reluctance. CECILIA. 27 CHAPTER IV. A SKETCH OF HIGH LIFE. EAGER to renew a conversation which bad afforded her so much pleasure, Cecilia, neither sensible of fatigue from her change of hours nor her journey, arose with the light, and as soon as she was dressed, hastened to the breakfast apartment. She had not, however, been more impatient to enter than she soon became to quit it ; for though not much sur- prised to find herself there before her friend, her ardour for waiting her arrival was somewhat chilled, upon finding the fire but just lighted, the room cold, and the servants still employed in putting it in order. At ten o’clock she made another attempt : the roonj was then better prepared for her reception, but still it vvas empty. Again she was retiring, when the appearance of Mr. Arnott slopt her He expressed his surprise at her early rising, in a man- ner that marked the pleasure it gave to him ; and then, returning to the conversation of the preceding evening, he expatiated with warmth and feeling upon the happiiiess of his boyish days, remembered every circumsrance belonging to the plays in which they had formerly been companions, and dwelt upon every incident with a minuteness of delight that shewed his unwillingness ever to have done with the subject. This discourse detained her till they were joined by Mrs. Harrel, and then anollier more gay and more general succeeded to it. During their breakfast, Miss LaroUes was announced as a visitor to Cecilia, to whom she immediately advanced with the intimacy of an old acquaintance, taking her hand, and assuring her she could no longer defer the honour of waiting upon her. Cecilia, much amazed at this warmth of civility from one to whom she vvas almost a stranger, received her compliment rather coldly; but Miss LaroUes, without consulting her looks, or attending to her manner, proceeded to express the earnest desire she had long had to be known u 2 28 CECILIA. to her ; to hope they should meet very often ; to declar<^ nothing could make her so happy ; and to beg leave to recommend to her notice her own miliner. “ I assure you,” she continued, “ she has all Paris in her disposal; the sweetest caps! the most beautiful trimmings! and her ribbons are quite divine! It is the most dangerous thing you can conceive to go near her; I never trust myself in her room but ! am sure to be ruined. If you please, I will take you to her this morning. “ If her acquaintance is so ruinous,” said Cecilia, “ I think I had better avoid it.” “ O, impossible ! there’s no such thing as living without her. To be sure she’s shockingly dear, that I must own ; but then who can wonder? She makes such sweet things, 'tis impossible to pay her too mucli for them.” Mrs. Harrel now joining in the recommendation, the party was agreed upon, and, accompanied by Mr. Arnott, the ladies proceeded to the house of the milliner- Here the raptures of Miss Larolles were again excited : she viewed the finery displayed with delight inexpressible, enquired who were the intended possessors, heard their names with envy, and sighed with all the bitterness of mortification that she was unable to order home almost every thing she looked at. Having finished their business here, they proceeded to various other dress manufacturers, in whose praises Miss Larolles was almost equally eloquent, and to appropriate whose goods she was almost equally earnest; and then after attending this loquacious young lady to her father’s house, Mrs. Harrel and Cecilia returned to their own. Cecilia rejoiced at the separation, and congratulated her- self that the rest of the day might be spent alone with her friend. “ Why no, “ said Mrs. Harrel, “not absolutely alone, for I expect some company to night.” “ Company again to niglit ?” “ Nay, don’t be frightened, for it will be a very small paj'ty; not more than fifteen or twenty in all.” Is that so small a party said Cecilia, smiling, “and how short a time since would you, as well as J, have reckoned it a large one?” CECILIA. 29 “ O, you mean when I lived in the country,” returned Mrs. Harrcl : “ but what in the world could I know of parties or company then ?” “ Not much, indeed,” said Cecilia, “ as my present ignorance shews ” They then parted to dress for dinner. The company of this evening were again all strangers to Cecilia, except Miss Leeson, who was seated next to her, and whose frigid looks again compelled her to observe the same silence she so absolutely practised herself. Yet not the less was her internal surprise, that a lady who seemed determin- ed neither to give nor receive any entertainment, should I epcatedly chijse to shew herself in a company, with nvO part of which she associated. Mr Arnott, who contrived to occupy the seat on her other side, suffered not the siience with which her fair neigh- bour had infected her to spread any further: he talked, indeed, upon no new subject ; and upon the old one, of theii former sports and amusements, he had already ex- hausted all that was worth being mentioned ; but not yet had he exhausted the pleasure he received fiom the theme; it seemed aiways fresh, and always enchanting to him : it employed iris thoughts, regaled his imagination, and en- livened his discourse. Cecilia in vain tried to change it for another ; he quitted it only by compulsion, and returned to it with redoubled eagerness When the company was retired, and Mr. Arnott only remained with the ladies, Cecilia, with no little surprise, enquhed for Mr. Hand, observing that she had not seen him the whole day, “ O,” cried his lady, “ don’t think of wondering at that, for it happens so continually. He dines at iiome, indeed, in general, but otherwise i, should see nothing of him at ail.’* “ Indeed! why hovv does he fill up his time ?” “ That I am sure J cannot teir, for he never consults me about it ; but 1 suppose much in the same way that other people do.” “ Ah, Priscilla!” ciied Cecilia, with some earnestness, “ how little did 1 ever expect to see you so much a fine lady I” “ A fine lady?” repeated Mrs. Harrel : why what is So CECILIA. It I do? don’t I live exactlj> like everybody else that mixes at all with the world ?” “ You, Miss Beverley/’ said Mr. Arnott in a low voice, will I hope give to the world an example, not take one from it.” Soon after, they separated for the night. The next morning, Cecilia took care to fill up her time more advantageously, than in wandering about the house in search of a companion she now expected not to find : she got together her books, arranged them to her fancy, and secured to herself, for the future occupation of her leisure hours, the exhaustless fund of entertainment which reading, that'richest, highest, and noblest source of intellectual en- joyment, perpetually affords. While tliey were yet at breakfast, they were again visited by Miss Larolles. ' “ I am come,” cried she eagerly, “ to run away with you both to my Lord Belgrade's sale. All the world will be there; and we shall go in with tickets, and you have no notion how it will be crowded.” What is to be spld there ?” said Cecilia. ” O every thing you can conceive; house, tables, china, laces, horses, caps, every thing in the world.” “ And do you intend to buy any thliag ?” “ Lord, no , but one likes to see the people’s things.” Cecilia then begged they would c-x use iier attendance. “ O by no means.” cried Miss Larolles, “ you must go, I assure you ; . there’ll be such a monstrous crowd as you never saw in your life. I dare say we shall be half squeezed to death.” That,” said Cecilia, “is an inducement '> which you must not expect will have much w^tighr with a poor rustic just out of the country : it must require all the polish of a long residence in the metropolis to make k attractive.” “ O but do go, for I assure you it will be the best sale we shall hav^e this season. I can’t imagine, Mrs. Harrel, what poor Lady Belgrade will do with herself: 1 hear the creditors have seized every thing ; I really believe creditors arc the cruellest set of people in the world ! They have taken those beautiful buckles out of her shoes ! Poor soul ! 1 declare it will make my heart ache to see them put up. CECILIA. 31 It’s quite shocking, upon my word. I wonder .who’ll buy them. 1 assure you c hey were the prettiest fancied I ever saW'. But come, if you don’t go .directly, there will be no getting in." Cecilia again desired to be excused accompanying tliem, adding, that she wished to spend the day at home. “ At home, my de n ?’’ cried Mrs. Harrel ; why we have been engaged to Mrs. Mears this month, and she begged me to prevail with you to be of the party. 1 expect she’ll call, or send you a ticket, every moment." “ How unlucky for me," said Cecilia, “ that you should happen to have so many engagements just at this time ! 1 hope, at least, there will not be any for to- morrow.” “ O yes ; to-morrow we go to Mrs. Elton's." “ Again to-morrow? and how long is this to last ?" “ O Heaven knows ; I’ll shew you my catalogue." She then jiroduced a book which contained a list of engagements for more than three weeks. “ And as ihese," she said, “ arc struck off, new ones are made ^ and so it is^ vve go on till after the birth-day." When this list had been e.xamined and commented upon by Miss Larolles, and viewed and wondered at by Cecilia, it was restored to its place, and the two ladies went together to the auction, permitting Cecilia, at her repeated rec]uest, to return to her own apartment. She returned, however, neither satisfied with the be- haviour of her friv nd, nor pleased with her own situation : the sobriety of her education, as it had early instilled into her mind the pure dictates of religion, and strict principles of honour, bad also taught her to regard continual dissipa- tion as an introduction to vice, and unbounded extravagance as the harbinger of injustice. Long accustomed to see Mrs. Harrel in the same retirement in whicli she had hitherto lived herself, when books were their first amuse- ment, and the society of each other was their chief happiness, the change she no 'V perceived in her mind and manners equally concerned and surprised her. She found her insensible to friendship, indifferent to her husband, and negligent of all social felicity. Dress, company, parties of pleasure, and public places, seemed not mereiy to occupyali 32 CECILIA. her time, but to gratify all her wishes. Cecilia, in whose heart glowed the warmest affections and most generous virtue,^ was cruelly depressed and mortified by this disap- pointment ; yet she had the good sense to determine against upbraiding her, well aware that if reproach has any power over indifference, it is only that of changing it into aversion. Mrs. Harrel, in truth, was innocent of heart, though dissipated in life ; marrried very young, she had made an immediate transition from living in a private family and a country town, to becoming mistress of one of the most elegant houses in Portman-squaie, being at the head of a splendid fortune, and wife to a man whose own puisuits soon shewed her the little value he himself set upon domestic happiness. Immersed in the fashionable round of company and diversions, her understanding, naturally weak, was easily dazzled by the brilliancy of her situation ; greedily, therefore, sucking in air impregnated with luxury 2nd extravagance, she haecilia, moved round to the back of the chair, where he patiently stood for the rest of the evening. But Sir Robert still kept his post, and still, without troubling himself to speak, kept his eyes fixed upon the same object. Cecilia, offended by his boldness, looked a thousand ways to avoid him ; but her embarrassment, by giving greater play to her features, served only to keep awake an attention which might otherwise have wearied. She was almost tempted to move her chair round and face Mr. Arnott, but though she wished to shew her disapprobation of the Baronet, she had not yet been reconciled by fashion to turning her back upon the company at large, for the indulgence of conversing with some particular person : a fashion which to unaccustomed observeis seems rude and repulsive, but which, when once adopted, carries with it imperceptibly its own recommendation, in the ease, conve- nience, and freedom, which it promotes. 36 CfiCiLIA. Thus disagreeably stationed, she found but little iisslstance from the neighbourhood of Mr. Ainott, since even his own desire of conversing with her was swallowed up by an anxious and involuntary impulse to watch the looks and motions of Sir Robert. At length, quite tired of sitting as if merely an object to be gazed at, she determined to attempt entering into con- versation, with Miss Leeson. The difficulty, however, was not inconsiderable how to make an attack ; she was unacquainted with her friends and connections, uninformed of her way of thinking, or her way of life, ignorant even of the sound of her voice, and chilled by the coldness of her aspect : yet, having no other alternative, she was more willing to encounter the forbid- ding looks of this lady, than to continue silently abashed under the scrutinizing eyes of Sir Robert. After much deliberation with what subject to begin, she remembered that Miss Larollcs had been present the first time they had met, and thought it probable they might be acquainted with each other ; and therefore, bending for- ward, she ventured to enquire if she had lately seen that I young lady ? Miss Leeson, in a voice alike inexpressive of satisfaction or displeasure, quietly answered, “.No ma'anri.” Cecilia, discouraged by this conciseness, was a few minutes silent ; bur the perseverance of Sir Robert in staring at her, exciting her own in trying to avoid his eyes, she exerted herself so far as to add, “ Does Mis. Meats expect Miss Larolles here this evening ?” Miss Leeson, without raising her head, gravely replied, “ I don't know, ma'am." All was now to be done over again, and a new subject to be started, for she could suggest nothing further to ask concerning Miss Larolles. Cecilia had seen little of life, but that little she had well marked ; and her observation had taught her, that among fashionable people, public places seemed a never-failing source of conversation and entertainment : upon this topic, therefore, she hoped for better success ; and as to those who have spent more time in the country than in London, no place of amusement is so interesting as a theatre, she CECILIA. 37 opened the subject she had so happily suggested, by an enquiry whether any new play had lately come out ? Miss Leesoh, with the same dryness, only answered, “ Indeed I can’t tell.” Another pause now followed, and the spirits of Cecilia weie considerably dampt ; but happening accidentally to recollect the name of Almack, she presently revived, and congratulating herself that she should now be able to speak of a place too fashionable for disdain, she asked her, in a manner somewhat more assured, if she was a subscriber to his assemblies ? “ Yes, ma am.” “ Do you go to them constantly ?” — “ No ma'am.” Again they were both silent And now, tiied of finding the ill success of each puticular enquiry, she thought a more general one might obtain an answer less laconic ; and therefore begged she would inform her what was the most fashionable place of diversion for thp present season ? d'his question, however, cost Miss Leeson no more trouble than any which had preceded it, for she only replied, “ Indeed I don’t know.” Cecilia now began to sicken of her attempt, and for some minutes to give it up as hopeless ; but ai'terwards, when she reflected how frivolous vveic the questions she had asked, she felt more inclined to pardon the answers she had received, and in a short time to fancy she had mistaken contempt for stupidity, and to grow less angry with Miss Leeson than ashamed of herself. This supposition excited her to make yet another trial of her talents for conversation ; and therefoie, summoning all the courage in her power, she mo iestly apologized for the liberty she was taking, and then begged her permission to enquire whether there was any thing new in the literary way, that she thought worth recommending ? Miss Leeson now turned her eyes towards her, with a look that implied a doubt whether she had heard aright ; and when the attentive attitude of Cecilia confirmed her question, suprise for a few instants took place of insen- sibility, and with rather more spirit than she had yet shewn, she answered, “ Indeed 1 know nothing of the matter.” 3S CECILIA. Cecilia was now utterly disconcerted ; and half angry with herSelf, and wholly piovoked with her sullen neigh- bour, she resolved to let nothing in future provoke her to a similar trial with so unpromising a subject. She had not, however, much longer to endure the exami- nation of Sir Robert, who being pretty well satisfied with staring, turned upon his heel, and was striding out of the room, when he was stopt by Mr. Gosport, who for some time had been watching him, Mr. Gosport was a man of good parts, and keen satire ; minute in his observations, and ironical in his expressions. “ So you don't play, Sir Robert ?" he cried. “ What, here? No I am going to Brookes’s.” “ But how do yoo like Harrel’s ward ? You have taken a pretty good sui vey of her.” “ Why faidi I don't know ; but not much, I think ; she’s a devilidi fine woman too ; but she has no spirit, no life.” “ Did you try her ? Have you talked to her ?” ' “ Not 1, truly !” “ Nay, then, how do you mean to judge of her?” “ O, faith that’s all over now ; one iievei thinks of talking to the women by way of trying them.” “ \Vhat other method, then, have you adopted ?” “ None.” “ None ? Why then how do you go on ?” “ Why they talk to us. The women take all that trou- ble upon themselves-now.” “ And pray how long may you have com'raenced fade macai cm ? for this is a part of your character with which I was not acquainted.” ‘‘ O, hatig it, 'tis not Tom ton ; no it’s merely from laziness. ho ti.e d — 1 will fatigue hinuclf \a ith dancing attendance upon the women, when keeping them at a distance makes them dance attena tnf e upon us ?” Then, stalking frem him to Mr Harrcl, he took him hy the arm, and they left the room together. Mr. Gosport now advanced to Cecilia, and addressing her so as not to be heard by Miss Leeson, said, “ I hav^ been wishing to appioach you some time, but the fear that you are already overpowered by the loquacity of your fair CECILIA. 39 neighbour, makes me cautious of attempting to engage, you.” “ You mean,” said Cedlii, “to laugh at mj loquacity, and indeed its ill success has rendered it sufficiently ridiculous.” “ Aie yon, then, yet to learn,” cried he, “ that there are certain young iedes who make it a rule never to speak but to their own cronies ? Of this class is Miss Lceson, and till you get into her particular coterie, you must never expect to hear from her a word of two syllables. The ton misses, as they . .e called, who now infest the town, are in two aivisions. the supercilious, and the voluble. The supercilious, like kliss Lceson, are silent, scornful, languid, and affected, and disdain all converse but with those of their own set ; the voluble, like Miss Larollcs, are flirting, com .nunicative, restless, and familiar, and attack, without the smallest ceremony, every one they think worthy their notice. But this they have in common, that at home they think of nothing but dress, abioad, of nothing but admiration, and that every where they hold in, supreme cont empt all but themselves ” “ Proha'dy, then,” said Cecilia, “ J have passed, to-night, for one of the volubles ; however, all theadvanrage has been with the supercilious, for 1 have suffered a total repulse.” “ Are you sure, however, you have not talked too well , for her ?” “ U, a child of five years ought to have been whipt for not talking better !” “ Bm it is not capacity alone you are to consult when you talk with misses of the ton ; were their unders^tandings,; only to be con.u.wrco;, they would indeed be wonderiully easy of access ! la order, therefore, to lender their commerce somewhat difficult, they tvili on'y be pleased by as; observ- ance of their humouus; which aic ever mou various and most exuberant n iiere the int ilects aie weakest and least cultivated. J have, however, a receipt which 1 have found infallible for engaging the attention of young ladies, of whatsoever character or denomination.” “ O, then,” said Cecilia, “ pray favour me with it, for I have here an admirable opportunity to try its efficacy.” “ I will give it you,” he answered, “ with full directions. 40 CECILIA. When you meet with a young lady who seems resolutely determined not to speak, or who, if compelled by a direct question to make some answer, drily gives a brief affirma- tive, or coldly a laconic negative ” “ A case in point interrupted Cecilia. “ Well, thus circumstanced,'’ hecontinued, “ theremedy I have to propose consists of three topics of discourse.” “ Pray what are they ?” “ D ress, public places, and love.” Cecilia, half sujprised and half diverted, waited a hiller explanation without giving any interruption. “ These three topics,” he continued, “ are to answer three purposes, since there arc no less than three causes from which the silence of y^ ung ladies may proceed ; sor- row, affectation, and stupidity.” “ Do you then, cried Cecilia, “ give nothing at all to modesty ?” “ I give much to it,” he answered, “ as an excuse, nay almost as an equivalent for wit ; but for that sullen silence which resists ail encouragement, modesty is a mere pre- tence, nofa cause.” “ You must, however, be somewhat more explicit, ifyou mean that I should benefit from your instructions.” “ Weil then,” he answered, “ I will biiefly enumerate the three causes, with directions for the three methods of cure. To begin with sorrow. The taciturnity which really results' fiom that is attended with an incurable absence of mind, and a total unconsciousness of the pbservation which it excites ; upon this occasion, public places may sometimes be tried in vain, and even dress may fail ; but love ” “ Are you sure, then,” said Cecilia, with a laugh, ** that sorrow' has but that one source ?” “ By no means,” answered he, “ for perhaps papa may have been angry, or mama may have been cross; a milliner may have sent a wrong pompeon, or a chaperon to an assembly may have been taken ill ” “ Bitter subjects of affliction, indeed ! And are these all you allow us ?” “ Nay. 1 speak but of young ladies of fashion, and what of greater irnpottance can befall them? If, therefore, the CECILIA. 41 grief of the fair patient proceeds from papa, mamma, or the chaperon^ then the mention of public places, those endless incentives of displcassare between the old and the young, will draw forth her complaints, and her complaints will bring their own cure, for those who lament hnd sj^eedy consolation: if the milliner has occasioned the calamity, the di cussion of dress will have the same effec t ; should both these medicines fail, love, as I said before, will be found infallible, for you will then have investigated every subject of uneasiness wdiich a youthful female in high liie can experience.” “ They are greatly obliged to you,” cried Cecilia, bow- ing, “ for granting them motives of sonow so honourable, and I thank you in the name (jf the whole sex.” “ You, m idam,” said he returning her bow, “ are, I hope, an exception in the happiest way, that of having no, sorrow at all. I come, now, to the silence of affectation, which h presently disccrnable by the roving of the eye round the room to see if it is heeded, by the sedulous care to avoid an accidental smile, and by the variety of discon^ solate attitudes exhibited to the beholders. This species of siience has almost, without exception, its origin in that babyish vanity which is always gratified by exciting attention, without ever peceiving that it provokes con- tempt. In these cases, as natuie is wholly out of the question, and the mind is guarded against its own feelings, dress and public places are almost certain of failing, bur here again love is sure to vanquish ; as soon as it is named, attention becomes involuntary, and in a short time a struggling simper discomposes the arrangement of the features, and then tlie business is presently over, for the young lady is either supporting some system, or opposing some proposition, before sbe is well aw’are that she had been cheated out of her sad siicnce at all.” “ So m.uch,” said Cecilia, “ for sorrow and for affecta- tion. Proceed next to stupidity ; for that, in all proba- bility, I shall most frequently encounter.” “ That always must be heavy work,” returned he, yet the road is plain, though it is all up-hill. Love, here, may be talked of without exciting any emotion, or provoking any reply, and dress may be dilated upoa 42 CECILIA. without producing any other effect than that of attracting a vacant stare ; but public places aie indubitably certain of success, pull and heavy characters, incapable of anima- ting from wit or from reason, because unable to keep pace with them, and void of all internal sources of entertain- ment, require the stimulation of shew, glare, noise, and bustle, to interest or awaken them. Talk to them of such subjects and they adore you ; no matter whether you paint to them joy or horror ; let there but be action, and they are content ; a battle has charms for them equal to a coronation ; and a funeral amuses them as much as a wedding.’* “ I am much obliged to you," said Cecilia, smiling, “for these instructions ; yet I must confess 1 know not how upon the present occasion to make use of them ; public places I have already tried, but tried in vain; dress I dare not mention; as I have not yet learned its technical terms.” — “ Weil but," interrupted he ; “ be not desperate, you have yet the third topic unessayed.’ ’ “ O that,” returned she, laughing, “ I leave to you !” “ Pardon me," cried he, “ love is a source of loquacity only with yourselves ; when it is stalled by men, young ladies dwindle into mere listeneis. Siinpeiing listeners, 1 confess ; but it is only with one another that you will discuss its merits." * At this time they were interrupted by the approach of Miss Larolles, who, tripping towards Cecilia, exclaimed, “Lord, how glad 1 am to see you! So you would not go to the auction ? Well, you had a prodigious loss, I assure you. All the wardrobe was sold, and all Lady Belgiade's trinkets. I never saw such a eol lection ofsw'eet things in rny life. I was ready to cry that I could not purchase half an hundred of them. I declare 1 was kepi in an agony the whole morning. I would not but have been theie for the world. Poor Lady Belgrade! you really can’t conceive how I was shocked for her. AH her beautiful things sold for almost nothing. I assure you if you had seen how they went, you would have lost all patience. It’s a thousand pities you were not there." “ On the contrary,” said Cecilia, “ I think I had a very CECILIA. 43 fortunate escapse, for the loss,of patience without the acquisi- tion of the trinkets, would have b> en rather mortifying." “ Yes,” said Mr. Gosport, “ but when you have lived some time longer in this co.nnicrcial city, you will find the exchange of patience for mortification the most common and constant traffic among its inhabitants." “ Pray, have you been heie long cried Miss Larolles, “ for 1 have been to twenty places wondering I did not meet with you befoie. But whereabouts is Mrs. Mears? O, I see hei now ; I’m sure tliere s no mistaking her; I could know hei by that old red gown half a mile off, Did , you ever S'-e such a frightful thing in your life ? And it's never offhei bick. 1 beiieve she sleeps in it. I am sure 1 have seen her in nothing else all winter It quite tiies one’s eye. She’s a monstro^ s shocking dre'.ser. But do you know, 1 have met with the most provoking thing in the woild this evening 1 deciare it has mide me quite sick. 1 vv'as never in such a passion in my life. You can conceive nothing like it," “ Like what,’’ ciied Cecilia, laughing, “ your passion or your provocation ?’’ “ Why I’d t ll you what it was, and then you shall judge if it was not quite past endurance. You must know 1 commissioned a particular freind of mine, Miss Moffat, to buy me a trimming when she went to Paris ; wed, .she Sent it me over about a month ago by Mr. Meadows, and it's the sweetest thing you ever saw in your life ; but I would not make it up, because there was not a creatuie in town, so 1 thought to bring it out quite new in about a week's time, for you know any thing does till after Chiist- mas. Well, to night at Lady Jane Dranet’s, who should 1 meet but Miss Moffat ! She had been in town some days, but so nrontsrously engaged, I Could never find her at home. Well, I was quite delighted to see her, for you must know she’s a prodigious favourite with me ; so 1 ran up to her in a great hurry to shake hands, and what doyou think was the first thing that struck my eyes ? Why just such a trimming as my own, upon a nasty odious gown, and half dirty ! Can you conceive any thing so distressing ? I could have cried with pleasure." r 2 44 CECILIA. “ Why so ?“ said Cecilia, “ If her trimming is dirty, yours will look the moredelicate." “ O lord, but it's making it seem quite an old thing, half the town will get something tike it. And J have quite ruined myself to by it. I declare ! don t think any thing was ever half so mortifying It dvtressed me so I could hardly speak to her. If she had stayed a month or two longer I should not have minded it, but it was the cruellest thing in the world to come over just now. 1 wish the cusom-house officers hac kept all her clothes till summer.'' “ The wish is tender, indeed,” said Cecilia, “ for a particular friend,” Mrs. Mears now rising from the card table, Miss Larolles tript away to pay her compliments to her. “Here, at least,” ciied Cecilia, “ no receipt seems requisite for the cure of silence ! I would have Miss Larolles be the constant companion of Miss Leeson : they could not but agree admirab y, since that supercilious young lady seems determined never to speak, and the VOLUBLE Miss Larolles never to be silent. Were each to borrow something of the other, hcvv gteatly would both be the better!” “ The composition would still be a sorry one,” answered Mr. Gosport, “ for I believe they arc equally weak, and equally ignorant ; the^ only difference is, that One, though silly, is quick, the other, though deliberate, is stupid. Upon a short acquawatance, that heaviness which leaves to others the whole weight of discouise, and whole search ()f entertainment, is the most fatiguing, but, upon a longer intimacy, even that is less irksome and less offensive, than theflippincy which hears nothing but itself” Mrs. Harrel arose now to depart, and C'cdlia, not more tired of the beginning of the evening than entertained with its conclusion, was handed to the carriage by Mr. Amott. CECILIA. 45 CHAPTER VI. A ‘BREAKFAST. THE next morning, during breakfast, a servant acquainted Cecilia that' a young gentleman was in the hall, who begged to speak with her. She desired he might be admitted ; and Mrs. Hanel, laughing, asked if she ought not to quit the room ; while Mr. Arnott, with even more than his usual gravity, directed his eye towards the door to watch wdio should enter Neither of them, however, received any satisfaction when it was opened, for the gentleman who made his appearance was unknown to both but great was the surprise of Cecilia, though little her emotion, when she saw Mr Mortice ? He came forwajd with an air of the most profound respect for the company in general, and obsequiously advancing to Cecilia, made an e.arnesr enquiry into her health after her joui ney , and hoped she had heard good news from her friends in the country. Mrs. Harrel, naturally concluding, both from his vi,sit, and behaviour, that he was an acquaintance of some intimacy, very civilly offered him a seat and some breaks fast, which, very frankly, he accepted. But Mr. Anott, who already felt the anxiety of a rising passion which was too full of variation to be sanguine, looked at him with uneasiness, and ^Yaited his departure with impatience, Cecilia began to imagine he had been commissioned to call upon her with some message from Mr. Monckton, for she knew not how to sup.'ose that merely and accidentally having spent an hour or two in the sauie room with her, would authorize a visiting acquaintance Mr. Morrice, however, had a facility the most happy of leconciling his pretensions to hia inclination ; a d therefore she soon found that the apology she had suggested appeared to hirn unnecessary. To lead, however, to the subject from which she expected his excuse, she enquired how long he had left Suffolk ? “ But yesterday noon, ma'am,” he answered, “ or I should certainly have taken the liberty to wait upon you before.” 46 CECILIA. CecHIa who had only been perplexed herself to devise some reason why he came at all, now looked at him with a grave surprise, which would totally have abashed a man whose courage had been less, or whose expectations had been greater ; but Mr. Morrice, though he hazarded every danger upon the slightest chance of hope, knew too well the weakness of his claims to be confident bf success, and had been too familiar with rebuffs to be much hurt by receiving them. He might possibly have something to gain, but he knew he had nothing to lose. ^ “ I had the pleasure,” he continued, “ to leave all our friends well, except poor Lady Margaret, and she has had an attack of the asthma ; yet she would not have a physi- cian, though Mr. Monckton would fain have persuaded her ; however, I believe the old lady knows better things.” And he looked archly at Cecilia : but perceiving that the insinuation gave her nothing but disgust, he changed his tone, and added, “ It is amazing how well they live together ; nobody would imagine the disparity in their years. Poor old lady ! Mr. Monckton will really have a great loss of her when she dies.” “A loss of her!” repeated Mrs. Barrel; “ I am Sure she is an exceeding ill-natured old woman. When I lived at Bury, I was always frightened out of my wits at the sight of her.” “ Why, indeed, ma'am,” said Morrice, “ I must own her appearance is rather against her : I had myself a great aversion to her at first sight. Bur the house is chearful— very cheatfu! ; 1 like to spend a few davs there now and then of all things. Miss Bcnnct, too, is ag'eeabie enough, and ” “Miss Bermet agreeable!” cried Mrs. Harrel ; “I think she is the most odious creature I ever knew in my life ; a nasty, sjriteful old maid ; “ Why indeed ma'am, as you say,” answered Morrice, “ she is not very young ; and as to her temper, 1 confess I know very little about it; and Mr. Monckton is likely enough to try it, for he is pretty severe." Mr. Monckton,” cried Cecilia, extremely provoked at hearing him censured by a man she thought highly honoured in being permitted to approach him, “ whenever CECILIA. 47 / have been his guest, has merited from me nothing but praise and gratitude.” “ O,” tried Morrice eagerly, “ there is not a more worthy man in the world; he has so much wit, so much politeness ! I don’t know a more charming man any where than my friend, Mr. Monckton.” Ceciiia now perceiving that the opinions of her new acquaintance were as pliant as his bows, determined to pay him no furthei attention, and hoped by sitting silent to force from him the business of his visit, if any lie had, or if, as she now suspected, he had none, to weary him into a retreat. But itiis plan, though it would have succeeded with her- self, failed with Mr. Morrice, who to a stock of good- humour that made him always ready to oblige others, added an equal portion of insensibility that hardened him against all indignity. Finding, iherelore, that Cecilia, to whom his visit was intended, seemed already sati fieri witli its length, tie" prudently forbore to toimeut her ; but per- ceiving that the lady of the house was more accessible, he quickly made a transfer of his attention, and addressed his discourse to her with as much pleasure as if his only view had beerr to see her, and as much ease as if he had known her all his life. With Mrs. Harrel this conduct was not injudicious ; she Wj.s pleased with his assiduity, amused with his vivacity, and suffic iently satisfied with his understanding. They c Oliver .sed, therefore, upon pretty equal terms, and neither of them were yet tired, when they were interrupted by Mr. Harrel, who came into the room to ask if they had seen or heard any thing of Sir Robert Floyet ? “ No,” answered Mis. Hanel, “ noilring at all.” “ 1 wish he was hanged,” returned he, ‘‘ for he has kept me waiting this liour. He nrade me promise not to ride out till he called, and now he'll stay till the morning is over.” “ Pray where does he live, Sir ?” cried Morrice, start- ing from his seat. “ In Cavendish-square, Sir,” answered Mr. Harrel, looking at him with much surpiise. Not a word more said Morrice, but scampered out of the room. 48 CECILIA. “ Pray who is this genius ?” cried Mr. Hanel, ‘‘and what has he run away for?” “ Upon rny word I know nothing at all of him,” said Mrs. Harrel ; “ he is a visitor of Miss Beverley's.” “And 1, too,” said Cecilia, “ might almost equally disclaim all knowledge of him; for though I once saw, I never was introduced to him.” She then began a relation of her meeting him at MoncLton's house, and had hardly concluded it, before again, and quite out of breath, he made his appearance. “ Sir Robert Floyer, Sir,” said he to Mr. Harrel, “ will be here in two minutes.” “ I hope Sir,” s id Mr, Harrel, “ you have not given yourself the tioublcof going to him ?” “ No, Sir, it has given me nothing but pleasure ; a ritti these Cold mornings is d;e thing 1 like best.” “ Sir, .you are extremely good,” said Mr Hand, “but I had not the least intention of your taking such a walk «jx)n my account.” He then begged iiim to be seated, to rest himself, and to lake some refieshment ; which civilities he received without scruple. “ But, Miss Beverley,” said Mr Harrel, turning to Cecilia, “ you don’t tell me what you think of my friend ?” “ What friend, Sir?” “ Why, Sir Robert Floyer; I observed he never quitted you a moment while lie stayed at Mis. Mears's.” “ His stay, however was too short,” said Cecilia, “to allow me to foim a fair opinion of him.”' “ But perhaps,” cried Morricc, “ it was long enough to allow you to form a foul one.” Cecilia could not forbear laughing to hear the truth thus accidentally blundered out ; but Mr. Harrel, looking very little pleased, said, “ Surely you can find no fault with him ; he is one of the most fashionable men 1 know.” “ My hnding fault with him, then,” said Cecilia, “will only lurther prove what I believe is already pretty evident, that I am yet a novice in the art of admiration.” Mr. Arnott, animating at this speech, glided behind her chair, and said, “ J knew you could not like him ! 1 knew CECILIA. 49 it from the turn of your mind ; — I know it even from your countenance !” Soon after Sir Robert Floyer arrived. “ You are a pretty fellow, a nt you,” cried Mr. Harrel, “ to keep me waiting so long?” “ I could not come a moment sooner ; I hardly expected to get here at all, for my horse has been so confounded resty I could not tell how to get him along.” “ Do you come on horseback through the streets, Sir Robert ?” asked Mr. Harrel. “ Sometimes ; when I am lazy. But what the d 1 is the matter with him I do’nt know ; he has started at every thing. I suspect there has been some foul play with him.” “ Is he at the door, Sir ?” cried Morrice. “ Yes,” answered Sir Robert. “ Then I’ll tcU you what's the matter with him in a minute and away again ran Morrice. “ What time did you get off last night, Harrel ?” said Sir Robert. “ Not very early ; but you were too much engaged to miss me. By the way,” lowering his voice, “ what do vou think I lost ?” ✓ - “ I can t tell, indeed ; but I know what I gained ; I have not had such a run of luck this winter. ' They then went up to a window to carry on their enquiries more privately. At the words, rv/iat do you think / lost? Cecilia, half starting, cast her eyes uneasily upon Mrs. Harrel, but perceived not the least change in her countenance. Mr. Arnott, however, seemed as little pleased as herself, and, from a similar sensation, looked anxiously at his sister. Morrice now returning, called out, “ He's had a fall, I assure you !” “ Curse him !” cried Sir Robert, “ what shall I do now ? He cost me the d —I and alj of money, and I have not had him a twelvemonth. Can you lend me a horse for this morning, Harrel ?” “ No, I have not one tliat will do for you. You must send to Astley.” “ Who can I send ? John must take care of this.” VOL. I. G- 2 50 CECILIA. I’ll go, Sir,” cried Morrice ; “ if you’ll give me the commission.” “ By no means. Sir,” said Sir Robert, “ I can’t think of your having such an office.” “ It is the thing in the world I like best,” answered he ; “ I understand horses, and had rather go to Astley s than any where.” The matter was now Settled in a few minutes, and having received his directions, and an invitation to dinner, Morrice danced off, with an heart yet lighter than his heels. “ Why, Miss Beverley” said Mr. Harrel, “ this friend of yours is the most obliging gentleman I ever met with : there was no avoiding asking him .to dinner.” “ Remember, however,” said Cecilia, who was involun- tarily diverted at the successful officiousness of her new acquaintance, “ that if you receive him henceforth as your guest, he obtains admission ihiough his own merits, and not through my interest.” At dinner, Morrice, who failed not to accept the invitation of Mr. Harrel, was the gayest and indeed the happiest man in the company : the effort he had made to fasten himself upon Cecilia as an acquaintance, had not, k is tine, from herself met with much encouragement ; but he knew the. chances w^ere against him when he made the trial, and there- fore the prospect of gaining admission into such a house as Mr. Harrel’s, was not only sufficient ." to make amends for what scarcely amounted to a disappointment, but a subject of serious comfort from the credit of the connection, and of internal exultation at his own management and address. In the evening, the ladies, as usual, went to a private assembly, and, as usual, were attended to it -by Mr. Arnott. The other gentlemen had engagements elsewhere. CHAPTER VII. A PROJECT. SEVERAL days passed on nearly in the same manner ; the mornings were all spent in gossipping, shopping, and CECILIA. 51 dressing, and the evenings were regularly appropriated to public places, or large parries of company. Meanwhile Mr. Arnott lived almost entirely in Portman- square ; he slept, indeed, at his own lodgings, but he boaided wholly with Mr. Harrel, whose house he never for a moment quitted till night, except to attend Cecilia and his sister in their visitings and rambles. Mr. Arnott was a young man of unexceptionable charac- ter, and of a disposition mild, serious, and benignant : his principles and blameless conduct obtained the univeisal esteem of the world ; but his mannei s, which were rather too precise, joined to an uncommon gravity of countenance and demeanour, made his society rather permitted as a duty, than sought as a pleasure. The charms of Cecilia had forcibly, suddenly, and deeply ^ penetrated his heart ; he only lived in her presence : away from her, he hardly existed : the emotions she excited were rather those of adoration than of love, for he gazed upon her beauty till he thought her more than human, and hung upon her accents till all speech seemed impertinent to him but her own. Yet so small were his expectations of success, that not even to his sister did he hint at the situa- tion of his heart; happy in an easy access to her, he con- tented himself with seeing, hearing, and watching her, beyond which bounds he formed not any plan, and scarce indulged any hope. Sir Robert Floyer, too, was a frequent visitor in Portman- square, where he dined almost daily. Cecilia was chagrined at seeing so much of him, and provoked to find herself almost constantly the object of his unrestrained examina- tion ; she was, however, far more seriously concerned for Mrs. Harrel, when she discovered that this favourite friend of her husband was an unprincipled spendthrift, and an extravagant gamester; for as he was the inseparable com- panion of Mr. Harrel, she dreaded the consequence both of his influence and his example. She saw, too, with an amazement that daily increased, the fatigue, yet fascination, of a life of pleasuie ; Mr, Harrel seemed to consider his own house merely as an hotel, where at any hour of the night he might disturb the fa jiily to claim admittance, where letters and messages might be G 2 CEGILFA. 62 left for him, where he dined, when no other dinner was offered him, and where, when he made an appointment, he was to be met with. His lady, too, though more at liome, was not therefore more solitary ; her acquaintance weie numerous, expensive, and idle, and every moment not actually spent in company, was scrupulousy devoted to making arrangements for that purpose. In a short time Cecilia, who every day had hoped that the next would afford her greater satisfaction, but who every day found the present no better than the former, began to grow wearj of eternally running the same round, and to sicken at the irksome repetition of unremitting yet uninter- esting dissipation. She saw nobody she wished to see, as she had met with nobody for whom she could care ; for though sometimes those with whom she mixed appeared to be amiable, she knew that their manners, like their persons, were in tlieir best array, and therefore she had too much understanding to judge decisively of their characters. But what chiefly damped her hopes of forihing a friendship with any of the new acquaintance to whom she was introduced, was the observation she herself made, how ill the coldness of their hearts accorded with the warmth of their professions : upon every first meeting, the civilities which were shewn her, flattered her into believing she had excited a partiality that a very little time would ripen into affec- tion ; the next meeting commonly confirmed the expecta- tion ; but the third, and every future one, regularly destroy- ed it. She found that time added nothing to their fondness, nor intimacy to their sincerity ; that the interest in her welfare, which appeared to be taken at fi st sight, seldom; wi.h whatever reason, increased, and often without any, abated ; that the distinction she at first met with, was no effusion of kindness, but of curiosity, which is scarcely sooner gratified than satiated ; and that those who lived always the life into which she had only lately been initiated, were as much harrassed with it as herself, though less spirited to lelinquish, and more helpless to better it ; and that they coveted nothing but what was new, because they had experienced the insufficiency of whatever was familiar. She began now to regret the loss she sustained in quitting the neighbourhood, and being deprived of the conversation CECILIA. 53 of Mr. Monckton, and yet more earnestly to miss the affection, and sigh for the society of Mrs. Charlton, the lady with w' ho in she had long and happily resided at Bury ; for she was very soon compelled to give up all expectation of renewing the felicity of her earlier years, by being restored to the friendship of Mrs. Harrel, in whom she had mista- ken the kindness of childish intimacy for lire sincerity of chosen affection ; and though she saw her credulous error with mortification and displeasure, she regretted it with tenderness and sorrow. “ What, at last,” cried she, “ is human felicity, who has tasted, and wheie is it to be found? If I, who, to others, seem marked out for even a partial possession of it, — distinguished by fortune, caressed by the world, brought into the circle of high life, and surrounded with splendour, seek without finding, yet losing, scarce know how 1 miss it !” Ashamed upon reflection to believe she was considered as an object of envy by others, while repining and discon- tented herself, she determined no longer to be the only one insensible to the blessings within her reach, but by projecting and adopting some plan of conduct, better suited to her taste and feelings than the frivolous insipidity of her present life, to make at once a rr^ore spirited and more worthy use of the affluence, freedom, and power which she possessed. A scheme of happiness at once rational and refined soon presented itself to her imagination. She purposed, for the basis of her plan, to become rnis-tressof her own time, and with this view, to diop all idle and uninterr sting acquaint- ance, who, while they contribute neither to use not plea- sure, make so lar.,e a part of the community, that they may piopeily be called the under ntners of existence; she could then shew some taste and discernment in her choice of friends, and she resolved to select such only as by their piety could elevate her mind, by theii knowledge improve lier understanding, or by their accomplishments and man- ners delight her affections. This regulation, if strictly adhered to, would soon relieve her from the fatigue of receiving many visitors, and therefore she might have all the leisure she could desire for the pursuit of her favourite studies, music and reading. 54 CECILIA. Having thus, from her own estimation ofhnnian perfec-^ lion, culled whatever was noblest for her society, and from her own ideas of sedentary enjoyments, arranged the occu- pations of her hours of solitude, she felt fully satisfied with the portion of happiness which her scheme promised to herself, arid began next to consider what was dt^c fioin her to the world. And not without trembling did she then look forward to lire claims which the splendid income she was soon to possess would call upon her to dlschatge. A strong sense of DUTY, a fer\ ent desire to act right, were the ruling characteristics of her mind : her affluence she therefore considered as a debt contracted with the poor ■, and her independence, as a tie upon her liberality to pay it with interest. Many and various, then, scbrhing to Iier spirit, and grateful to her sensibility, were the scenes which her fancy delineated ; now she supported an orphan, now softened the sorrows of a widow, now snatched from iniquity the feeble trembler at poverty, and now rescued from shame the proud struggler with disgrace. The prospect at once exalted her with hopes, and enraptured her imagination ; she regarded herself as an agent of charity, and already in idea anticipated the rewards of a good and faithful delegate : so animating are the designs of a disinterested benevolence! so pure is the bliss of intellectual philanthropy ! Not immediately, however, could this plan be put in execution ; the society she meant to form could not be selected in the house of another, wheie, though to some she might shew a preference, there weie none she could reject: nor had she yet the power to indulge, according to the munificence of her wishes, the extensive generosity she projected: these purposes demanded an house of her own, and the unlimited disposal of her fortune, neither of which she could claim till she became of age. That period, how- ever, was only eight months distant, and she pleased herself with the intention of meliorating her plan in the mean time, and preparing to put it in practice. But though, in common with all the race of still-expect- ing man, she looked for that happiness in the time to come which the pi esent failed to afford, "she had yet the spirit CECILIA. 35 and good sense to determine upon making every effort in her power, to render her immediate way of life more useful and contented. Her first wish therefore, now, was to quit the house of Mr Harrel, where she neither met with entertainment nor instruction, but was perpetually mortified by seeing the total indifference of the iriend in whose society she had hoped for nothing but affection. The will of her uncle, though it obliged her, while under age, to live with one of her guardians, left her at liberty to chuse and change amongst them according to her wishes or convenience ; she determined, therefore, to make a visit herself to each of them, to observe their manners and way of life, and then, to the best of her judgment, detide with which she could be most conteiued : resolving, however, not to hint at her intention till it was ripe for execution, and then honestly to confess the reasons of her retreat. She had acquainted them both of hei journey to town the morning after her arrival. She was almost an entire stranger to each of them, as she had not seen Mr Briggs since she was nine years old, nor Mr Delvile within the time she could remember. The very morning that she had settled her proceedings for thearrangement of this new plan, she intended to request the use of Mrs Harrcl’s carriage, and to make, without delay, the visits preparatory to her removal ; but when she entered the parlour upon a summons to breakfast, her eager- ness to quit the house gave way, for the present, to the plea- sure she felt at the sight of Mr. Monckton, who was just arrived from Suffolk. She expressed her satisfaction in the most lively terms, and scrupled not to tell him she had noc once been so much pleased since her journey to town, except at her first meet- ing with Mrs. Harrel. Mr. Monckton, whose delight was infinitely superior t®- her own, and whose joy in seeing her was redoubled by the affectionate frankness of her reception, stifled the emotions to which her sight gave rise, and denying himself the solace of c.xpressing his feelings, seemed much less charmed than her- self at the meeting, and sufiPered no word nor look to escape him, beyond what could be authoiiscd by friendly civility. 66 CECILIA. He then renewed with Mrs. Harrel an acquaintance which had been formed before her marriage, but which he had dropt when her distance from Cecilia, upon whose account alone he had thought it worth cultivation, made it no longer of use to him. She afterwards introduced her brother (o him ; and a conversation very interesting to both the ladie^ took place, concerning several families with which they had been formerly connected, as well as tne neighbourhood at large in which they had lately dwelt. Very little vv^s the share taken by Mr Arnott in these accounts and enquiries ; the unaffected joy with which Cecilia had received Mi. Monckton, had struck him with a sensation of envy as involuntary as it was painful : he did not, indeed, suspect that gentleman's secret views; no reason for suspicion was obvious, and his penetration sunk not deeper than appearances ; he knew, too, that he was married, and therefore no jealousy oo urred to him ; but still she had smiled upon him ! — and he felt that to purchase for himself a smile of so much sweetness, he would have sacrificed almost all else that was valuable to him upon earth. With an attention infinitely more accurate, Mr. Monck- ton had returned his observations. The uneasiness of liis mind was apparent, and the anxious watchfulness of his eyes plainly manifested whence it arose. From a situation, indeed, which permitted an intercourse the most constant and unrestrained W’itli such an object as Cecilia, nothing less could be expected, and therefore he considered his admiration as inevitable; all that remained to be discovered, was the reception it met with from his fair ens aver. Net was he here long in doubt ; he soon saw that she was not merely free from all passion herself. f;Ui: had so little watched Mr. Arnott as to be unconscious she had inspired any. Yet was his own serenity, though apparently upmoved, little less disiurbed in secret than that of his rival ; he diU not think him a formidable candidate, but he dreaded the effect of intimacy, fearing she might fiist grow accustomed to his attentions, and then become pleased with them : he apprehended, also, the influence of his sister, and of Mr. Harrel, in his favour • and though he had no difficulty to persuade himself that any offer he might now make would CECILIA. 57 be rejected without hesitation, he knew too well the insi- dious properties of pei severance, to see him, without inquietude, situated so advantageously. The morning was f r advanced before he took leave, yet he found no opportunity of discoursing with Cecilia, though he impatiently desi. ed to examine into the state of her mind, and to discover whether her London journey had added any fresh difhcultics to the success of her long-con- certed sclieme. But as Airs. Harrel invited him to dinner, he hoped the afternoon would be more piopitious to his wishes. Cecilia, too, was eager to communicate to him her favourite project, and to receive his advice with respect to its execution. She had long been used to his counsel, and she was now more than ever solicitous to obtain it, because she considered him as the only person in London who was interested in her welfare. He saw, howe ver, no promise of better success when he made his appearance at dintier time, for not only Mr. Arnott was already arrived, but Sir Robfert Floyer ; and he found Cecilia so much the object of their mutual attention, that he had still less chance than in the morning of speak- ing to her unheard. Yet was he not idle ; the sight of Sir Robert gave abundant employment to his penetration, which was imme- diately at work, to discover the motive of his visit: but this, with all his sagacity, was not easily decided ; for though the constant direction of his eyes towards Cecilia, proved, at least, that he was not insensible of her beauty, his carelessness whether or not she was hurt by his examina- tion, the little pains he took to converse with her, and the invariable assurance and negligence of his manners, seemed strongly to demonstrate an indifference to the sentiments he inspired, totally incompatible with the solicitude of affection In Cecilia he had nothing to observe, but what his knowledge of her character prepared him to expect, a shame no less indignant than modest at the freedom with which she saw herself surveyed. Very little, therefore, was the satisfaction which this visit procured him, for soon after dinner the ladies retired ; VOL, i. H 2 5S CECILIA. and as they had an early engagement for the evening, the gentlemen received no summons to their tea-table. But be contrived, before they quitted i he room, to make an appoint- ment for attending them the next morning to a reheaisal of a new serious Opera. He stayed not after their departure longer than decency required ; for too much in earnest was his present puisuit, to fit him for such conversation as the house in Cecilias absence could afford him. r -V ■V’ ^ ^ CHAPTER VIII. j^N ®PERA REHEARSAL. THE next day, between eleven and twelve o'clock, Mr, Moncklon was again in Portman-square ; he found, as he expected, both the ladies, and he found, as he feared, Mr. Arnott prepared to be of their party. He had, however, but little time to repine at this intrusion, before he was disturbed by another ; for, in a few minutes, they were joined by Sir Robert Fioyer, who also declared his intention of accompanying them to the Haymarket : Mr Moncklon, to disguise his chagrin, pretended he was in great haste to set off, lest they should be too Ltefor the overture ; they were, therefore, quitting the breakfast room, when they weie stopt by the appeaiance of Mr. Morricc. The surprise which the sight of him gave to Mr. Monck- ton was extreme ; he knew that he was unacquainted with Mr. Han el, for he remembered they were strangers to each other, when they lately met at his house ; he concluded, therefore, that Cecilia was the object of his visit, but he could frame no conjecture under w’hat pretence. The easy terms upon which he seemed with all the family, by no means diminished his amazement ; for when Mrs. Hand expressed some concern that she was obliged to go out, he gaily begged her not to mind him, assuring her he could not have stayed two minutes, and promising, unasked, to call again the next • ^^^d when she added» “ We would not hurry away so, only we aie going to a rehearsal of an Opera,” he exclaimed with quickness, “ A rehearsal ! — are you really ? I have a . great mind to go toq V” CECILIA. 59 Then, perceiving Mr. Monckton, he bowed to him with great respect, and enquired, with no little solemnity, how he had left Lady Margaret, hoped she was perfectly re- covered from her late indisposition, and asked sundry questions with regard to her plan for the winter. This discourse was ill constructed for rendering his presence desirable to Mr. Monckton ; he answered him very drily, and again pressed their departure. “ O," cried Morrice, “ there’s no occasion for suCh haste ; the rehearsal does not begin till one.” “ You are mistaken, Sir!” said Mr. Monckton ; “ it is to begin at twelve o'clock.” O, ay, very true,” returned Morrice ; I had forgot the dances, and I suppose they are to be rehearsed first*. Pray, Miss Beverley, did you ever see any dances rehearsed ?” “ No, Sir.” You’ll be excessively entertained, then, I assure you. It's the most comical thing in the world to see those signories and signoras cutting capers in a morning. And the Jiguranti will divert you beyond measure; you never saw such a sh-ibby set in your life; but tire most amusing thing is to look in their faces, for all the time they are jumping and skipping about the stage as if they could not stand still for joy, they look as sedate and as dismal as if they were so many undertaker’s meu.” “ Not a word against dancing'” cried Sir Robert, “ it’s the only thing carries one to the Opera ; and 1 am sure it's the only thing one minds at it.” The two ladies were then handed to Mrs. Harrel’s vis-a-vis ; and the gentlemen, joined without further cere- mony by Mr. Morrice, followed them to the Playmarket. The rehearsal was not begun, and Mrs. Harrel and Cecilia secured themselves a box upon the stage, from which the gentlemen of their party took care not to be very distant. They were soon perceived by Mr. Gosport, who instantly entered into conversation with Cecilia. Miss Laiolles, who, with some other ladies, came soon after into the next box, looked out ro curtsey and nod, with her usual readi- ness, at Mrs. Harrel, but took not any notice of Cecilia, though she made the first advances. H 2 60 CECILIA. “ What’s the matter now?” cried Mr, Gosport; “ have you ..fFronted your little prattling friend ?” “ Not with my own knowledge,” answered Cecilia ; “ perhaps Lhe does not recollect me.” Just then Miss Larolles, tapping at the door, came in from the next box to speak to Mrs. Harrel ; with whom she stood chatting and laughing some minutes, without seeming to perceive that Cecilia was of her party. “ Why what have you done to the poor girl ?” wLispered Mr. Gosport ; “ did you talk more than heiscif when you saw her last ?” “ Would that have been possible?” cried Cecilia. “ However, I still fancy she does not know me.” She then stood up, which making Miss Larolles ivolun- tarily turn towards her, she again curtseyed ; a civility which that young lady scarce deigned to return, before, bridling with an air of resentment, she hastily looked another way, and then, nodding good-humouredly to Mrs. Harrel, hurried back to her party. Cecilia, much amazed, said to Mi. Gosport, “ Seenow how great was our presumption in supposing this young lady's loquacity always at our devotion !” “ Ah, Madam!” cried he, laughing, “ there is no per- manency, no consistency in the world ! no, not even in the tongue of a voluble! and if that fails, upon what may we depend ?” “ But seriously,” said Cecilia, “ I am sorry I have offended her, and the more because I so little know how, that I can offer her no apology.” “ Will you appoint me your envoy? Shall I demand the cause of these hostilities ?” She thanked him, and he followed Miss Larolles ; who was now addressing herself with great earnestness to Mr. Meadows, the gentleman with whom she was conversing when Cecilia first saw her in Portman square. He stopta moment to let her finish her speech, which, with no little spirit, she did in these words, “.I never knew any thing like it in my life; but I shan’t put up with, such airs, I assure her !” Mr Meadows made not any other return to her harangue, but stretched himself with a languid smile and yawning : CECILIA. 61 Mr Gosport, therefore, seizing the moment of cessation* said, '■ Miss Larolles, I hear a strange report about you." “ Do you," returned she with quickness ; “ pray what is it ? something monstrous impertinent, 1 daresay ; — how- ever, I assure you it i’n't true." “ Your assurance,” cried he, “ carries Conviction indis- putable, for the report was that you had left off talking." “ O, was that all ?" cried she, disappointed ; “ I thought it had been something about Mr Sawyer, for I declare I have been plagued so about him, I am quite sick of his name. ” “ And for mv part, I never heard it! so fear nothing from me upon his account." “ Lord, Mr. Gosport how can you say so! I am sure you must kn >w about the festino that night, for it was all over the town in a moment.” “ What iestino ?" “ Wed, only conceive how provoking! — Why, I know nothing else was ta.ked of for a month 1" “ You are most formidably stout this morning! It is not two minutes since 1 saw you fling the gauntlet at Miss Bever- ley, and yet you are already prepared for another antagonist." “ O, as to Mi'S Beverley, J must really beg you not to mention her ; she has behaved so impertinently, that I don’t ever intend to sjjeak to her again." " Why what has she done, ?" “ O she s been so rude you’ve no notion. I'll tell you how it was. You must know I met her at Mrs. Harrel’s the day .'^he came to town, and the very next morning I waited. on her myself, for 1 would not send a ticket, because I really wished to be tivil to her ; well, the day after, she never came near me, though I called upon her again ; how- ever, 1 did not take any notice of that ; but when the third day came, and I found she had not even sent me a ticket, I thought it monstrous ill bred indeed ; and now there ha^ past mote than a week and yet she has never called : I suppose she don't like me, so 1 shall drop her acquaintance.” Mr. Gosport, satished now with the subject of her complaint, returned to Cecilia, and informed her of the heavy charge which was brought against her. “ I am glad at least, to know my crime,” said she ; “ for 62 CECILIA. otherwise I should certainly have sinned on in ignorance, as I must confess I never thought of returning her visits : but ^ven if I had, I should not have supposed I .had yet lost much tijnc.” “ I beg your pardon there,” said Mrs. Harrel ; “a first visit ought to be returned always by the third day.” “ Then have I an unanswerable excuse,” said Cecilia ; for 1 remember that on the third day I saw her at your house.” “ O that’s nothing at all to the purpose^ you should have ‘waited upon her, or sent her a ticket, just the same as if you had not seen her.” The overture w'as now begun, and Cecilia declined any further conversation. This was the hist Opera she had ever heard, yet she was not wholly a stranger to Italian compositions, having assiduously studied music from a natuial love of tlie ai t, attended all the best concerts her neighbourhood afforded, and regularly leceivcd from London the worl s of the best masteis. But the little skill she had thus gained, served rather to increase, than lessen the surprise with which she heard tl;e p- sent performance— a surprise of which the discovery of her own ignorance made 11 ' t the least par t. Unconscious from the little she had accjuiied how much was to be learnt, she was astonished to find (he inadequate power of written music to convey any idea of vocal abilities : with just knowledge enough there^ fore, to understand something of the difficulties, and feel much of the merit, she gave to the whole Opera an avidity of attention almost painful from its own eagerness. But bo h the surprise and the pleasure which she received -from the performance in* general, were faint, cold, and languid, compared to t!ie strength of those emotions when excited by Signore Pacchierotti in particular ; and though not half (he excellencies of that superior singer were neces- sary either to amaze or charm her unaccustomed ear*, ^though the refinement of his taste, and masterly originaflhjr of his genius, to be praised as they deserved, called for Oft judgment and knowledge of the professors, yet a natural love of music in some measure supplied the place of cultiva- tion, and what she Gould neither explain nor understand, «he could feel and enjoy. -Ig CECILIA. 63 The Opera was Artaserse ; and the pleasure she received From the music was much augmented by her previous acquaintance with that inteiesting drama ; yet as to all noviciates in science, whatever is least complicated is most pleasing, she found herself by nothing so deeply impressed, as by the plaintive and beautiful s'impdcity with which Pacchierotti uttered the affecting repetition sono innocenit ! his voice, always, either sweet or impassioned, delivered those words in a tone of softness, pathos, and sensibility, that struck her with a sensition not moie new ih.in delightful. But though she was, perhaps, the only pet son thus astonished, she was by no means the only one enraptured ; for, notwithstanding she was too earnestly engaged to remark the company in general, she could not avoid taking notice of an old gentleman who stood by one of the side scenes, against which he leant his head in a manner tiiat Concealed his face, with an evident design to be wholly absorbed in listen- ing; and during the songs of Pacchierotti he sighed so deeply, that Cecilia, sti uck by his uncommon sensibility to the power of music, involuntarily watclfed him, whenever her mind was sufficiently at liberty to attend to any emo- tions but its own. As soon as the rehearsal was over, the gentlemen of Mis. Harrei’s party crowded before ber box; and Ceeiiia then perceived ihat the person whose musical enthusiasm had excited her curiosity, was the same old gentleman ^v'hosc extraordinary behaviour had so much surp;ised her at the house of Mr Monckton. Her desire to obtain some infor- mation Concerning him again reviving, she was beginning to make fiesh inquiiies, when she was interrupted by the approach of Captain Aresby. That gentle. nan advancing to her with a smile of the extremest .ctlf-complacency, after hoping, in a low voice, he had the honour of jeeing her well, exclaimed, “ How wretchedly empty is the town ! petrifying to a degree! 1 believe you do not find youiseif at present eOsede by too much company ? ’ At present, 1 believe the contrary 1" cried Mr Gosport. ‘*,Reai]y!” .said the captain, unsuspicious of his sneer, “ X protest 1 have hardly seen a soul. Have you hied the Pantheon yet, raahim 64 CECILIA. “ No, Sir.” “ Nor 1 : I don't know whether people 50 there this year. Jt is not a favourite spectacle with me ; that sitting to hear the music is a hoirid bore. Have you done the Festino the honour to look in there yet ?” “ No, Sir.” “ Permit me, then, to have the honour to beg you will try it.” “ O, ay, true,” cried Mrs. Harrel j “ I have really used -you very ill about that ; 1 should have got you in for a subscriber: but, Lord, I have done nothing for you yet, and you never put me in mind. There’s the anc ient music, and Abel’s concert ; — as to the Opera, we may have a box between us ; — but there's the ladies’ concert we must try for ; and there’s — O Lord, fifty other places we must think of!” “ Oh times ot folly and dissipation !” exclaimed a voice at some distance , “ Oh mignions of idleness and luxury ! What next will ye Invent for the perdition of your time ! How yetfuriher will ye proceed in the annihilation of virtue!” Every body started ; but Mrs. Harrcl coolly said, ” Dear, it's only the man-hater ! “ The man-hater ? ’ repeated Cecilia, who found that the speech was made by the object of her former curiosity ; “ is that the name by which he is knowm ?” “ He is known by fifty names.” said Mr. Monckton ; “ his friends call him the moralist ; the young ladies, the crazy metn ; the macaronies, the bore ; in short, he is called by any and every name but his own.” “ He is a most petriiying wietch, I assure you,” said the Captain ; “lam obsede by him par tout ; if J had known he had been so near, 1 should certainly have said nothing.” “ That you Jiave done so well,” cried Mr. Gosport, “ that if yomiiad known it the whole time, you could have done it no better.” The Captain, who had not heard this speech, which was rather made at him than to him, continued his address to Cecilia : “ Give me leave to have the honour of hoping you intend to honour our select masquerade at the Pantheon with your pi esence. We shall have but 500 tickets, and the subscription will only be three guineas and a half." CECILIA. 65 “ Oh, objects of penury and want !” again exclaimed the incognito ; ‘ ‘ Oh vassals of famine and distress ! come and listen to this wantonness of wealth! come, naked and bread - less as ye are, and learn how that money is consumed which to you might bring raiment and food !” “ That strange wretch," said the Captain, “ ought rcallv to be confined ; 1 have had the honour to be degoute by him so often, that I think, him quite obnoxious. 1 make it a principle to seal up my lips the moment I perceive him." “ Vv^here is it, then,” said Cecilia, “ that you have so often met him ?” “ O," answered the Captain, partout ; there is no greater bore about town. But the time 1 found him most petrify-*- ing. was once when 1 happened to have the honour of dancing with a very young lady, who was but just come from a boarding school, and whose friends had done me the honour to fix upon me upon the principle of first biinging her out: and while I was doing mon possible for killing the time, he came up, and, in his particular manner, told her I had no meaning in any thing I said! 1 must own 1 never felt more tempted to be enraged with a person in yeais in my life." Mr. Arnott now brought the ladies word that their carriage was ready, and they quitted their box ; but as Cecilia had never before seen the interior parts of a theatre, Mr. Monckton, hoping while they loitered to have an opportunity of talking with her, asked Morrice why he did not shew the lyons ? Morrice, always happy in being employed, declared it was just the thing he liked best, and begged permission to do the honours to Mrs. Harrel, who, ever eager in the search of amusement, willingly accepted his offer. They all, therefore, marched upon the stage, their own party now being the Only one that remained. “ We shall make a triumphal entry here," cried Sir Robert Floyer ; “ the very tread of the stage half tempts me to turn actor." “ You area rare man,” said Mr. Gosport, “ if, at your time of life, that is a turn not already taken-" “ My time of life !" repeated he ; “ what do you mean by that ? do you take me for an old man ?" VOL. j. ' I ^ 6G CECILIA. “ No, Sir, but I take you to be past childhood, and, consequently, to have served your apprenticeship to the actors you have mixed with on the great stage of tlie world, and for some years, at least, to have set up for yourself. “ Come,” cried Morrice, “ let's have a little spouting ; 'twill make us warm.” “ Yes,” said Sir Robert, “ if we spout to an animating object. If Miss Beverley will be Juliet, lam Romeo at her service.” At this moment the incognito, quitting the corner in which he had plan ted' himself, came suddenly forward, and standing before the whole group, cast upon Cecilia a look of much compassion, and called out, “ Poor simple victim ! hast thou already so many pursuers ? yet seest not that thou art marked out for sacrifice 1 yet knowest not that thou art destined for a prey !” Cecilia, extremely struck by this extraordinary address, stopt short, and looked much disturbed ; which, when he perceived, he added, “ Let the danger, not the warning, affect you! discard the sycophants that surround you, seek the virtuous, and relieve the poor, and save yourself from the impending destruction of unfeeling prosperity !” Having uttered these words with vehemence and autho- rity, he sternly passed them, and disappeared. Cecilia, too much astonished for speech, stood for some time immoveable, revolving in her mind various con- jectures upon the meaning of an exhortation so strange and so urgent. Nor was the rest of the company much less discomposed: Sir Robert, Mr. Monckton, and Mr. Arnott, each consci- ous of their own particular plans, were each apprehensive that the warning pointed at himself: Mr. Gosport was offended at being included in the general appellation of sycophants ; Mrs, Harrel was provoked at being interrupted in her ramble ; and Captain Aresby, sickening at the very sight of him, retreated the moment he came forth. “ For Heaven’s sake,” cried Cecilia, when somewhat recovered from her consternation, “ who can this be, and what can he mean ? You, Mr. Monckton, must surely know’ something of him ; it was at your house I first saw him.” “ Indeed,” answered Mr. Monckton, “ 1 knew almost CECILIA. 67 nothing of him then, and I am but little better informed na>w. Belfield picked him up somewhere, and desired to bring him to my house : he called him by the name of A lbany : I found him a most extraordinary character ; and Belfield, who is a worshipper of originality, was very fond of him.” “ He’s a devilish crabbed old fellow,” cried Sir Robert ; “ and if he goes on much longer at this confounded rate, he stands a very fair chance of getting his ears cropt.” “ He is a man of the most singular conduct I have ever met with,” said Mr, Gosport ; “ he seems to hold mankind in abhorrence, yet he is never a moment alone, and at the same time that he intrudes himself into all parties, he associates with none : he is commonly a stern and silent observer of all that passes; or when he speaks, it is but to utter some sentence of rigid morality, or some bitterness of indignant reproof.” The carriage was now again announced, and Mr. Monk- ton taking Cecilia’s hand, while Mr. Morrice secured to himself the honour of Mrs. Harrel’s, Sir Robert and Mr. Gosport made their bows and departed. But though they had now quitted the stage, and arrived at the head of a small stair-case by which they were to descend out of the theatre, Mr, Monckton, finding all his tormentors retired, except Mr. Arnott, whom he hoped to elude, could not resist making one more attempt for a few moments’ conversation with Cecilia ; and, therefore, again applying to Morrice, he called out, “ 1 don’t think you have shewn the ladies any of the contrivances behind the scenes.” “ True,” cried Morrice, “no more I have; suppose we go back ?” “ I shall like it vastly,” said Mrs. Harrel ; and back they returned.” Mr. Monckton now soon found an opportunity to say to Cecilia, Miss Beverley, what I foresaw has exactly come to pass ; you are surrounded by selfish designers, by in- terested, double minded people, who have nothing at heart but your fortune, and whose mercenary views, if you are not guarded against them — ” Here a loud scream from Mrs. Harrel interrupted his speech ; Cecilia, much alarmed, turned from him to I 2 CECILIA. enquire the cause, and Mr. Monckton was obliged tofolJow her example : but his mortification was almost intolerable when he saw that ladyia a violent fit of laughter, and found her scream was only occasioned by seeing Mr. Morrice, in his diligence to do the honours, pull upon his own head one of the side scenes ! There was now no possibility of proposing any farther delay but Mr. Monckton, in attending the ladies to their carriage, was obliged to have recourse to his utmost discre- tion and forbearance, in order to check his desire of repri- manding Morrice for his blundering offjciousness. Dressing, dining with company at home, and then going out with company abroad, filled up, as usual, the rest of the day. CHAPTER IX. A SUPPLICATION. THE next morning Cecilia, at the repeated remonstrances of Mrs. Harrel, consented to call upon Miss Larolles. She felt the impracticability of beginning at present the altera- tion in her way of life she had projected, and therefore thought it most expedient to assume no singularity, till her independency should enable her to support it with consist- ency ; yet greater than ever was her internal eagerness to better satisfy her inclination and her conscience in the disposition of her time, and the distribution of her wealth, since she had heard the emphatic charge of her unknown Mentor. Mrs. Harrel declined accompanying her in this visit, because she had appointed a surveyor to bring a plan for the inspection of Mr. Harrel and herself, of a small temporary building, to be erected at Violet-Bank, for the purpose of performing plays in private for the ensuing Easter. When the street door was opened for her to get into the carriage, she was struck with the appearance of an elderly woman who was standing at some distance, and seemed shivering with cold, and who, as she descended the steps, joined her hands in an act of supplication, and advanced nearer to thecauiage. CECILIA. 69 Cecilia stoj)t to look at her: her dress, though parsimo- nious, was too neat for a beggar ; and she considered a moment what she could offer her. The poor woman continued to move forward, but with a slowness of paCe that indicated extreme weakness ; and, as she approached and raised her head, she exhibited a countenance so wretched, and a complexion so sickly, that Cecilia was impressed with horror at the sight. With her hands still joined, and a voice that seemed fearful of its own sound, “ Oh, madam,” she cried, “ that you would but hear me !” “ Hear you!” repeated Cecilia, hastily feeling for her purse ? “ most certainly ; and tell me how I shall assist you ?” ‘ ‘ Heaven bless you for speaking so kindly, madam I” cried the woman with a voice more assured ; “I was sadly afraid you would be angry, but I saw the carriage at the door, atid I thought I would try ; for I could be no worse ; and distress, madam, makes very bold.” “ Angry !*’ said Cecilia, taking a crown from her purse ; “ jio, indeed! — who could see such wretchedness, and feel any thing but pity !” “ Oh, madam,” returned the poor woman, “ I could almost cry to hear you talk so, though I never thought to cry again since 1 left it off for my poor Billy !” “ Have you, then, lost a son ?” “ Yes, madam ; but he was a great deal too good to live, so I have quite left off grieving for him now.” “ Come in, good woman,” said Cecilia ; “ it is too cold to stand here, and you seem half starved already ; come in, and let me have some talk, with you.” She then gave orders that the carriage should be driven round the square till she was ready, and making the woman follow her into a parlour, desired to know what she should do for her .' changing, while she spoke, from a movement of increasing compassion, the crown which she held in her hand for double that sum. “ You can do every thing, madam,” she answered, “ if you will but plead for us to his honour: he little thinks of our distress, because he has been afflicted with none him- self; and I would not be so troublesome to him, but indeed, indeed, madam, we are quite pinched for want 1” 70 CECILIA. Cecilia, struck with the words, he link thinks of our distress, because he has been afflicted with none himself, felt again ashamed of the smallness of her intended dona- tion, and taking from her purse another half guinea, said, “ Will this assist you? Will a guinea be sufficient for the present ?” “ I humbly thank you, madam,” said the woman, curtseying low ; “ shall I give you a receipt ?” “ A receipt!” ciicd Cecilia, with emotion, “for what? Alas, our accounts are by no means balanced ! but I shall do more for you, if I find you as deserving an object as you seem to be.” “ You are very good, madam ; but I only meant a re- ceipt in part of payment.” “ Payment for what ? I don’t understand you.” “ Did his honour never tell you, madam, of our account ?” “ What account ?” “ Our bill , madam, for work done to the new temple at Violet-Bank : it was the last great work my poor husband was able to do, for it was there he met with his misfoi tune." “ What bill? What misfortune?” cried Cecilia; “ What had your husband to do at Violet-Bank ?” “ He was the carpenter, madam, I thought you might have seen poor Hill the carpenter there” “ No, 1 never w^as there myself. Perhaps you mistake me for Mrs. Harrel.” “ Why sure, madam, am't you his honour’s lady ? “ No. But tell me what is this bill ?” “ ’fTis a bill, madam, for very hard work, for work, madam, which I am sure will cost my husband his life ; and though I have been after his honour night and day to get it, and sent him letters and petitions with an account of our misfortunes, I have never received so much as a shilling ! and now the servants won’t even let me wait in the hall to speak to him. Oh, madam ! you who seem so good, plead to his honour in our behalf! tell him ray poor husband cannot live! tell -him my children are starving! and tell him my poor Billy, that used to help to keep us, is dead, and that all the work 1 can do myself is not enough to maintain us !” CECILIA. 71 “ Good heaven !” cried Cecilia, extremely moved, “is it then your own money for which you sue thus humbly ?” Yes, madam, for my own just and honest money, as his honour knows, and will tell you himself.” “ Impossible i” cried Cecilia, “ he cannot know it; but I will take care he shall soon be informed of it. How much is the bill ?” “ Two and twenty pounds, madam.” “ What, no more ?” “ Ah, madam, you gentlefolks little think how much that is to poor people! A hard-working family, like mine, madam, with the help of 20/. will go on for a long while quite in paradise.” “ Poor worthy woman !” cried Cecilia, whose eyes were filled with tears of compassion, “ if 20/. will place you in paradise, and that 20 A only your just right, it is hard, indeed, that you should be kept without it ; especially when your debtors are too affluent to miss it. Stay here a few moments, and I will bring you the money immediately ” Away she flew, and returned to the breakfast room, but found there only Mr. Arnort, who told her that Mr. Harrel was in the library, with his sister and some gentlemen. Cecilia briefly related her business, and begged he would inform Mr. Harrel she wished to speak to him directly. Mr. Arnott shook his head, but obeyed. They returned together, and immediately. “ Miss Beverley,” cried Mr. Harrel, gaily, “ I am glad you are not gone, for we want much to consult with you. Will you come up stairs “ Presently,” answered she ; “ but first I must speak to you about a poor woman with whom I have accidentally been talking, who has begged me to intercede with you to pay a little debt that she thinks you have forgotten, but that probably you have never heard mentioned ?” “A debt!” cried he, with an immediate change of countenance, “ to whom ?” “ Her name, I think, is Hill ; she is wife to the carpenter you employed about a new temple at \ iolet-Bank.” “ O what — what that woman ? — Weil, well i ii see she shall be paid. Come, let us go the library.” “ What, • with my commission so ill executed ? 1 72 CECILIA. promised to petition for her to have the money di- rectly." “ Pho, pho, there s no such hurry ; I don't know what 1 have done with her bill.” “ I’ll run and get another.” “ O upon no account ! She may send another in two or three days. She deserves to wait a twelvemonth for her impertinence in troubling you at all about it.” “ That was entirely accidental ; but indeed you must give me leave to perform my promise and plead for her. Jt must be almost the same to you whether you pay such a trifle as 20/. now, or a month hence; and to this poor woman, the difference seems little short of life or death ; for she tells me her husband is dying, and her children half famished, and though she looks an object of the cruellest want and distress herself, she appears to be their only support.” “ Oh,” cried Mr. Hairel, laughing, “ what a dismal tale has she been telling you ! no doubt she saw you were fresh from the country 1 But if you give credit to all the farragos of these trumpery impostors, you will never have a moment to yourself, nor a guinea in your purse.” “ This woman,” answered Cecilia, “ cannot be an impostor, she carries marks but too evident and too dreadful in her countenance of the sufferings which she relates.” “ O,” returned he, “ when you know the town better, you will soon see through tricks of this sort ; a sick husband and five small children are complaints so stale now, that they serve no other purpose in the world but to make a joke.” “ Those, however, who can laugh at them, must have notions of merriment very different to mine. And this poor woman, whose cause I have ventured to undertake, bad she no family at all, must still and indisputably be an object of pity herself, for she is so weak she can hardly crawl, and so pallid, that she seems already half dead.” “ All imposition, depend upon it! The moment she is out of your sight, her complaints will vanish.” “ Nay, sir,” cried Cecilia, a little impatiently, “ there is no reason to suspect such deceit, since she does not conic hither as a beggar, however well the state of beggary may CECILIA. 73 accord with her poverty : she only solicits the payment of a bill ; and if in that there is any fraud, nothing can be so easy as detection.” Mr. Harrel bit his lips at this speech,, and for some iristants looked much disturbed; but soon recovering him- self, he negligently said, “ Pray how did she get at you ?” “ 1 met her at the street door. But tell me, is not her bill a just one ?” “ 1 cannot say ; 1 have never had time to look at it.” “ But you know who the woman is, and that her husband worked for you, and therefore that in all probabi- lity it is rig^it, — do you not?” “ Yes, yes,-l know who the woman is well enough ; she has taken care of that, for she has pestered me every day these nine months.” Cecilia was struck dumb by this speech : hitherto she had supposed that the dissipation of his life kept him ignorant of his own inj^ustice ; but when she found he was so well informed of it, yet with such total indifference, pould suffer a poor woman to claim a just debt every day for nine months together, she was shocked and astonished beyond measure. They were both some time silent, and then Mr. Harrel, yawning and stretching out his arnjs, indolently asked, “ Pray, why does not. the man come himself?” “ Did I not tell you,” an&wered Cecilia, starting at so absent a question, “ that he was very ill, and unable even to work?” “ Well, when he is better,” added he, moving towards the door, “ he may call, and I will talk to him ” Cecilia, all amazement at this unfeeling behaviour, turned involuntaj ily to Mr Arnott, with a countenance that appealed for his assistance; but Mr. Arnott hung his head, ashamed to meet her eyes, and abruptly left the room. Mean time Mr. Harrel, half turning back, though with- out looking Cecilia in the face, carelessly said, ” Well, won’t you come?” “ No, Sir,” answered she coldly. He then returned to the library, leaving her equally displeased, suiprised, and disconceiied at the conveisation. which had just passed between them. “ Good Heaven,” cried she to herself, “ what strange, what cruel insensibility ! VOL. I. K 2 74 CECILIA. to sufFet a wretched Family to starve, from an obstinate determination to assert that they can live ! to distress the poor by retaining the recompeiice for which alone they labour, (and which at least they must have,) merely from indolence, forgetfulness, and insolence! Ohow little did my uncle know, how little did I imagine, to what a guardian I was entrusted?” She now felt ashamed even to return to the poor woman, though she resolved to do all in her power to soften her disappointment, and relieve her distress. But before she had quitted the room, one of the servants came to tell her that his master begged the honour of her company up stairs. “ Perhaps he relents !” thought she ; ahd pleased with the hope, readily obeyed the summons. She found him, his lady, Sir Robert Floyer, and two other gentlemen, all earnestly engaged in an argument over a large table, which was covered with plans and elevations of small buildings. . Mr. Hairel immediately addressed her with an air of vivacity, and said, “ You are very good for coming; weean settle nothing without your advice ; pray look at these different plans for our theatre, and tell us which is the best.” Cecilia advanced not a step : the sight of plans for neVt edifices when the workmen were yet Unpaid for old ones, the cruel wanionneSs of raising fresh fabrics of expensive luxury, while those so lately built had brought their neglected labourers to ruin, excited an indignation shescaice thought right to repress : while the easy sprightliness of the director of these revels, to whom but the moment before she had represented -the oppression of which they made him guilty, filled her with aversion and disgust: and, recollect- ing the charge given her by the stranger at llie Opera rehearsal, «he resolved to speed her departure to another house, internally repeating, “ Yes, I luiV/ save myself froin the ifnpending destruction of unjeeling prosperity ! Mrs. Hanel, surprised at her silence andextreme gravity, enquiied if she was not well, and why she had pUt off her visit to Miss L.iroiies ? And Sir Robert Floyer, turning suddenly to look at her, said, “ Do you begin to feel the London air aheady ?” Cecilia endeavoured to recover her Serenity, and ansWer these questions in her usual manner; but she persisted in CECILIA. 73 declining to give any opinion at all about the plans, and, after slightly looking at them, left the room. Mr. Haifel, who knew better how to account for her behaviour than he thought proper to declare, saw with concern that she was more seriously displeased than he had believed an occurrence, which he had regarded as wholly unimportant, could have made her : and therefore desirous that she should be appeased, he followed her out of the library, and said, “ Miss Beverley, will tomorrow be soon enough for your protegee V’ “ O yes, no doubt 1” answered she, most agreeably sur- prised by the question, “ Well, then, will you take the trouble to bid her to come to me in the morning ?” Delighted at this unexpected commission, she thanked him with smiles for the office ; and as she hastened down stairs to chear the poor expectant with the welcome intelli- gence, she framed a thousand excuses for the part he had hitherto acted, and without any difficulty, persuaded her- self he began to see the faultsof his conduct, and to meditate a reformation. She was received by tbe poor creature she so warmly wished to serve with a countenance already so much enli- vened that shefancied Mr. Harrel had himself anticipated her intended information : this, however, she found was not tiie case, for as soon as she heard his message, she shook her head and said, “Ah, madam, his honour always says tomorrow 1 but I can better bear to be disappointed now, so I’ll grumble no more ; for indeed, madam, I have been blest enough to-day to comfort me for every thing in the world, if I could but keep from thinking of my poor Billy ! I could bear all the rest, madam, but whenever my other troubles gooff, that comes back to me so much the harder !" “There, indeed, I can aflford you no relief,” said Cecilia, “ but you must try to think less of him, and more of your husband and children who are now alive. To- morrow you will receive your money, and that, I hope, will raise your spirits. And pray let your husband have a physician, to tell .you how to nurse and manage him ; I will give you one fee for him now, and if he should want further advice, don’t fear to let me know.” 76 CECILIA. Cecili.i had again taken out her purse, but Mrs. Hill, clasping her hands, called out, “ Oh, madam, no! I don't come here to fleece such goodness ! but blessed be the hour that brought me here to-day, and if my poor Billy was alive, he should help me to thank you !" She then told her that she was now quite rich, for while she was gone a gentleman had come into the room, who had given her five guineas. Cecilia, by her description, soon found this gentleman v^as Mr. Arnott, and a charity so sympathetic , with her own, failed not to raise him greatly in her favour. But as her benevolence was a stranger to that parade which is only liberal from emulation, when she found more money not immediately wanted, she put up her purse, and charging Mrs- Hill to enquire for her the next morning when she came to be paid, bid her hasten back to her sick liusband. And then, again ordering the carriage to the door, she set off upon her visit to Miss Larolles, with a heart happy in the good already done, and happier still in the hope of doing more. Miss Larolles was out, and she returned home ; for she was too .sanguine in her expectations from Mr. Hand, to have arty desire of seeking any other guardians. The rest of the day she was more than usually civil to him, with a view to mark her approbation of his good intentions ; while Mr. Arnott, gratified by meeting the smiles he so much valued, thought his five guineas amply repaid, independently of the real pleasure which he took in doing good. CHAPTER X. A PRGFOCATIOM. THE next morning, when breakfast was over, Cecilia waited with much impatience to hear some tidings of the poor carpenter's wife ; but though Mr. Harrel, who had always that meal in his own room, came into his lady's'at his usual hour, to see what was going forward, he did not mention her name. She therefore went into the hall her- self, to enquire among the servants if Mrs. Hill was yet come CECILIA. 77 Yes, they answered, and had seen their master, and was gone. She then returned to the breakfast room, where her eager- ness to procure some information detained her, though the entrance of Sir Robert Floyer made her wish to retire. But she was wholly at a loss whether to impute to general forget- fulness, or to the failure of performing his promise, the silence of Mr Harrel upon the subject of her petition. In a few minutes they were visited by Mr Merrice, who said he called to acquaint the ladies, that the next morning there was to be a rehearsal of a very grand new dance at the Opera-house, where, though admission was difficult, if it was agreeable to them to go, he would undertake to in- troduce them. Mrs. Harrel happened to be engaged, and therefore de- clined the offer. He then turned to Cecilia, arid said. Well, ma'am, when did’you see our friend Monckton?” “ Not since the rehearsal. Sir." “ He is a mighty agreeable fellow," he continued, “ and his house in the country is charming. One is as easy at it as at home. Were you ever there, Sir Robert ?’’ “'Not I, truly," replied Sir Robert; “ what should I go for ? — to see ah old woman with never a tooth in her head sitting at the top of the table ! Faith, I’d go an hundred miles a-day for a month never to see such a sight again." “ O but you don’t know how well she does the honours," said Morrice ; “ and for my part, except just at meal times, I always contrive to keep out of her way " “ I wonder when she intends to die," said Mr. Harrel. “ She’s been a long time about it," cried Sir Robert ; “ but those tough old cats last for ever. We all thought she was going when Monckton married her ; however, if he had not managed like a driveller, he might have broke her heart nine years ago." “ I am sure I wish she had," cried Mrs, Harrel, “ for she’s an odious creature, and used alw'ays to make me afraid of her." “ But an old womau," answered Sir Robert, “ is a per- son who has no sense of decency ; if once she takes to living, the devil himself can’t get rid of her.” “ I dare say," cried Morrice, “ she’ll pop off before long 7S CECILIA. in one of those fits of the asthma. I assure you Sometimes you may hear her wheeze a mile off.” “ She'll go never the sooner for that/’ said Sir Robert, for I have got an old aunt of my own, who has been puffing and blowing as if she was at her last gasp ever since I can remember ; and for all that, only yesterday, when I asked her doctor when she’d give up the ghost, he told me she might live these dozen years,” Cecilia was by no means sorry to have this brutal con- versation interrupted by the entrance of a servant with a letter for her. She was immediately retiring to read it ; but upon the petition of Mr. Monckton, who just then came into the room, she only went to a window. The letter was as follows ; To Miss, at his Honour Squire Harrel’s, These. Honoiired Madam, THIS with ray humble duty. His Honour has given me nothing. But I would not be troublesome, having wherewithal to wait ; so conclude, Honoured Madam, Your dutiful servant to command, till death, M. Hill, The vexation with which Cecilia read this letter was visible to the whole company ; and while Mr. Arnott looked at her with a wish of enquiry he did not dare express, and Mr. Monckton, under an appearance of inatten- tion, concealed the most anxious curiosity; Mr. Morrice alone had courage to interrogate her, and, pertly advancing, said, ” He is a happy man who writ that letter, ma’am, for I am sure you have not read it with indifference.” “ Were I the writer,” said Mr. Arnott tenderly, “ lam sure I should reckon myself far otherwise, for Miss Bever- ley seems to have read it with uneasiness.” CECILIA. 79 “ However I have read it.” answered she, “ I assure you it is not from any man." “ O pray, Miss Beverley,” cried Sir Robert, coming forward, “ are you any better to-day ?” “ No, Sir, for I have not been ill.” “ A little vapoured, 1 thought, yesterday ; perhaps you want exercise.” “ I wish the ladies would put themselves under my care,” cried Morrice, “ and take a turn round the park.” “ I don't doubt you, Sir,” said Mr. Mockton contemp- tuously, “and, but for the check of modesty, probably there is not a man here who would not wish the same.” “ I could propose a much better scheme than that,” said Sir Robert ; “ what if you all walk to Harley street, and give me your notions of a house 1 am about there ? what say you, Mrs. Harrel?” “ O, I should like it vastly.” “ Done,” cried Mr.- Harrel ; “ it is an excellent motion.” “ Come, then,” said Sir Robert, “ let's be off. Miss Beverley, I hope you have a good warm cloak ?” “ I must beg you to excuse my attending you. Sir.” Mr. Monckton, who had heard this proposal with the utmost dread of its success, revived at the calm steadiness with which it was declined. Mr and Mrs Harrel noth teazed Cecilia to consent ; but the haughty Baronet evidently more offended than hurt by her refusal, pressed the matter no further, either with her or the rest of the party, and the scheme was dropt entirely. Mr. Monckton failed not to remark this circumstance, which confirmed his suspicions, that tliough the proposal seemed made by chance, his design tvas nothing else than to obtain Cecilia's opinion concerning his house. But while this somewhat alarmed him, the unabated inso- lence of his carriage, and the confident defiance of his pride, still rhore surprized him ; and notwithstanding all he observed of Cecilia, seemed to promise nothing but dis- like, he could draw no other inference from his behaviour, than that if he admired, he also concluded himself sure of her. This was not a pleasant conjecture, however little weight he allowed to it ; and he resolved, by outstaying all the so CECILIA. company, to have a few minutes private discourse with her upon the subject. In about half an hour, Sir Robert and Mr. Harrel went out together: Mr. Monckton still persevered in keeping his ground, and tried, though already weary, to keep up a general conversation ; but wLat moved at once his wonder and his indignation was the assurance of Morrice, who seemed not only bent upon staying as long as himself, but determined by rattling away, to make his own entertainment. At length a servant came in totell Mrs. Harrel tliat a stran- ger, who was waiting in the house-keeper s room, begged to speak with her upou very particular business. “ O, I know,” cried she, “ 'tis that odious John Groot; do pray, brother, try to get rid of him for me, for he comes to teaze me about his bill, and L never know what to say to him.” Mr. Arnott went immediately, and Mr. Monckton could scarce refrain from going too, tliat he might entreat John Groot by no means to be satisfied withou seeing Mrs. Harrel herself : John Groot, however, wanted not his entreaties, as the servant soon returned to summon hi&lady to the conference. But though Mr. Monckton now seemed near the com- pletion of his purpose, Morrice still remained ; his vexation at this circumstance soon grew intolerable ; to see himself upon the point of receiving the recompence of his persever- ance, by the fortunate removal of all the obstacles in its way, and then to have it held from him by a young fellow he so much despised, and who had no entrance into the house but through his own boldness, mortified him so in- sufferably, that it was with difficulty he even forbore affront- ing him. Nor would he have scrupled a moment desiring him to leave the room, had he not prudently determined to guard vidth the utmost sedulity against raising any suspicions of his passion for Cecilia. He arose, however, and was moving towards her, with intention to occupy a part of a sofa on which she was seat- ed, when Morrice, who was standing at the bac k of it, with a sudden spring which made the whole room shake, junipt ovei, and sunk pluo'p into the vacant place himself, calniig out at the same time, “ Come, come, what have you CECILIA. 81 married men to do with young ladies ? I shall seize this post for myself.” The rage of Mr. Monckton at this feat, and still more at the words married men^ almost exceeded endurance ; he stopt short, and looking at him with a fierceness that over- jx)wered his discretion, was bursting out with “ Sir, you are an — impudent fellow but checking himself when he got half way, concluded with, a very facetious gentleman !” Morrice, who wished nothing so little as disobliging Mr. Monckton, and whose behaviour was merely the result of levity, and a want of early education, no sooner perceived his displeasure, than rising with yet more agility than he had seated himself, he resumed the obsequiousness of which an uncommon flow of spirits had robbed him, and guessing no other subject for his anger than the disturbance he had made, he bowed almost to the ground, first to him, and afterwards to Cecilia, most respectfully begging pardon of them both for his frolic, and protesting be had no notion he should have made such a noise. Mrs. Harrel and Mr. Arnott now hastening back, enquir- ed what had been the matter. Morrice, ashamed of his exploit, and frightened by the looks of Mr. Monckton, made an apology with the utmost humility, and hurried away: and Mr. Monckton, hopeless of any better fortune, soon did the same, gnawn with a cruel discontent which he did not dare avow, and longing to revenge himself upon Morrice, even by personal chastisement. CHAPTER XI. A NAREAriON. THE moment Cecilia was at liberty, she sent her own servant to examine into the real situation of the carpenter and his family, and to desire his wife would call upon her as soon as she was at leisure. The account which he brought back increased her concern for the injuries of these poor people, and determined her not to rest satisfied till she saw them redressed. He informed her that they lived in a small lodging up two pair of stairs ; that there were five children, all girls, the three eldest of whom were hard at work with their mother in matting cht.r-bottoms, VOL. I. L 3 S2 CECILIA. and the fourth, though a mere child, was nursing the youngest ^ while the poor carpenter himself was confined to his bed, in consequence of a fall from a ladder, while work- ing at Violet-Bank, by which he was covered with wounds and contusions, and an object of misery and pain. As soon as Mrs. Hill came, Cecilia sent for her into her own room, where she received her with the most compas- sionate tenderness, and desired to know when Mr. Harrcl talked of paying her. “To-morrow, madam,", she answered, shaking her head, ** that is always his honour’s speech : but 1 shall bear it while I can. However, though I dare not tell his honour, something bad will come of it, if I am not paid soon,” “ Do you mean, then, to apply to the law ?’’ “I must not tell you, madam; but to be sure we have thought of it many a sad time and often ; buv still, while we could rub on, we thought it best not to make enemies : but, indeed, madam, his honour was so hard-hearted this morning, that if I was not afraid you would be angry, I could not tell how to bear it ; for when I told him 1 had no help now, for I had lost my Billy, he had the heart to say, “ so much the better, there’s one the less of you." “But what," cried Cecilia, extremely shocked by his unfeeling speech, “ is the reason he gives for disappointing you so often ?" “ He says, madam, that none of the other workmen are paid yet ; and that, to be sure, is very true ; but then they can ail better afford to wait than we can, for we were the poorest of aH, madam, and have been misfortunate from the beginning : and his honour would never have employ- ed us, only he had run up such a bill with Mr. Wright, that he would not undertake any thing ntore till fie was paid. We were told froin the first we should not get oui money ; but were wi.ling to hope for the best, for we had nothing to do, and were hard run, and had ne- ver had the oSj^r of sp good a job before; and we had a great family to keep, many losses, and so much illness Ob, madam! if you did but know what the poor go through !" This speech opened to Cecilia a new view of life ; that a young man could appear iso gay and happy, yet be guilty of CECILIA. S3 such injustice and inhumanity ; that he could take pride in works which not even money has made his own, and live with undiminished splendor, when his credit itself began to fail, seemed to her incongruities so irrational, that hitherto she had supposed them impossible. She then enquired if her husband had had a physician. “ Yes, madam, I humbly thank your goodness,” she an- .swered ; “ but I am not the poorer for that, for the gentle- man was so kind he would take nothing.” And does he give you any hopes ? what does he say?’’ “ He says he must die, madam, but I knew that before.” “ Poor woman! and what will you do then ?” “The same, madam, as I did when I lost my Billy, work on the harder !” “ Good Heaven, how severe a lot ! but tell me, why is it you seem to love your Billy so much better than the rest of your children ?” “ Because, madam, he was the only boy that ever I had ; he wa* seventeen years old, madam, and as tall and as pret- ty a lad ! and so good, that he never cost me a wet eye till I lost him. He worked with his father, and all the folks used to say he was the better workman of the two.” “ And what was the occasion of his death?” “ A consumption, madam, that wasted him quite to no- thing : and he was ill a long time, and cost us a deal of rno- ney, for we spared neither for wine, nor any thing, that we thought would but comfort him ; and we loved him so we never grudged it. But he died, madam ! and if it had not been for very hard work, the loss of him would quite have broke my heart.” “Try, however, to think less of him,” said Cecilia, “ and depend upon my speaking again* for you to Mr. Harrel. You shall certainly have your rrioney ; take care, therefore, of your own health, and go home, and give comfort to your sick husband.” “Oh, madam,” cried the poor woman, tears streaming down her cheeks, “ You don’t know how touching it is to hear gentlefolks talk so kindly ! And I have been used to nothing but roughness from his honour ! But what I most fear, madam, is that when my husband is gone, he will be harder to deal with than ever ; for a widow, madam, it L 2 S4 CECILIA. always hard to be righted ; and I don’t expect to hold out long myself, for sickness and sorrow wear fast; and then, when we are all gone, who is to help our poor children ?” “ / will !” cried the generous Cecilia ; “I ana able, and I am willing ; you shall not find all the rich hard-hearted# and I will try to make you some amends for the unkindness you have sutfered.” The poor woman, overcome by a promise so unexpected, burst into a passionate fit of tears, and sobbed our her thanks with a violence of emotion that frightened Cecilia almost as much as it melted her. She endeavoured, by reiterated as- surances of assistance, to appease her, and solemnly pledged her own honour, that she should certainly be paid the fol- lowing Saturday, which was only three days distant. Mrs. Hill, when a little calmer, dried her eyes, and humbly begging her to forgive a transport which she could n6t restrain, most gratefully thanked her for the engagement into which she had entered, protesting that she would not be troublesome to her goodness as long as she coujd help it: Atid I believe,” she continued, ^‘that if his honour will but pay me time enough for the burial, 1 can maker a shift with what I have till then. But when my poor Billy died# we were sadly off indeed, for we could not bear but bury him prettily, because it was the last we could do for him : but we could hardly scrape up enough for it, and yet we all went without our dinners to help forward, except the little one of all. But that did not much matter, for we had no great heart for eating.” “ I cannot bear this !” cried Cecilia : “ you must tell me no more of your Billy; but go home and chear your spirits, and do every thing in your power to save your hus- band.” “ I will, madam, ”« answered the woman, “ and his dy* ing prayers shall bless you, and all my children shall bless you, and every night they shall pray for you. And oh that Billy was but alive to pray for you too !” Cecilia kindly endeavoured to soothe her, but the poor creature, no longer able to suppress the violence of her awa* kened sorrows, cried out, “I must go, madam, and pray foj.* you at home, for now I have once begun crying agakii I don’t know how to have done !" and hurried away. CECILIA. 85 Cecilia determined to make once more an efFort with Mr. Harrel for the payment of the bill, and if that, in two days, did not succeed, to take up money for the discharge of it her- self, and rest all her security for reimbursement upon the shame with which such a proceeding must overwhelm him. Offended, however, by the repulse she had already received from him, and disgusted by ail she had heard of his unfeel- ing negligence, she knew not how to address him, and re- solved upon applying again to Mr. Arnott, who was alrea- dy acquainted with the affair, fr>r advice and assistance. Mr. Arnott, though extiemely gratified that she consult- ed him, betrayed by his looks an hopelessness of success that damped all her expectations. He piomised, however, to speak to Mr. Harrel upon the subject but the promise was evidently given to obdge the fait mediatrix, without any hope of advantage to th< cause. The next morning Mrs. Hi I again Came, and again, with- out payment, was dismissed. Mr. Arnott then, at the request of Cecilia, followed Mr. Harrel into his room, to enquire into the reason of this breach of promise; they continued some time together, and When he returned to Cecilia, he told her, that his brother had assured him he would give orders to Davison, his gen- tleman, to let her have the money the next day. The pleasure with which she would have heard this in- telligence, was much checked by the giave and cold man- ner in which it was communicated : she waited, therefore, with more impatience'than confidence for the result of this fresh assurance. The next moning, however, was the same as the last ; Mrs. Hill came, saw Davison, and was sent away. Cecilia, to whom she related her grievances, then flew to Mr. Arnott, and entreSted him to enquire at least of Davi- son why the woman had again been disappointed. Mr. Arnott obeyed her, and brought for answer, that Davison had received no orders from his master. “ I entreat you then,” cried she, with mingled eagerness and vexation, “to go, for the last time, to Mr. Harrel. I am sorry to impose upon you an office so disagreeable, but I am sure you compassionate these poor people, and will serve them now with your interest, as have already done with 86 CECILIA. your purse. I only wish to know if there has been any mistake, or if these delays are merely to sicken me of petitioning.” Ml . Arnott, with a repugnance to the request which he could as ill conceal as his admiration of the ze lous' reques- ter, again torced himself to follow Mr. Harrel. His Stay was not long, and Cecilia at his return perceived that he was hurt and. disconcerted. As soon as they were alone toge» ther, she begged to know what had passed ? “Nothing,” answered he, “ that will.give you any pleasure. When I entreated my brother to come to the point, he .said it was hi» intention to pay all his workmen together, for that if he paid any one singly, all the rest would be dissatisfied.” “And why,” said Cecilia, “should he not pay them at once? There can be no more comparison in the value of the money to him and to them, than to speak with truth, tiiere is in his and in their right to it.” “ But, madam, the bills for the new house itself are none of them settled, and he says that the moment he is known to discharge an account for the Temple, he shall not have any rest for the clamours it will raise among the workmen who were employed about the house.” “How infinitely "strange'” exclaimed Cecilia ; “will he not, then, pay any bociy ?” “ Next quarter, he says, he shall pay them all, but, at present, he has a particular call for his money.” Cecilia would not trust herself to make any comments upon such an avowal, but, thanking Mr, Arnott for thcj tiouble which he had taken, she determined, without any turtherapplicaiion, to desire Mr. Harrel to advance her 201. the next morning, and satisfy the carpenter herself, be the risk what it might. fhe following day, therefore, which was the Saturday when payment was promised, she begged an audience of Mr. harrel, which he immediately granted ; but, before, she could make her demand, he said to her, with an air of the utmost gaiety and good humour, “ Well, Miss Bever- ley, how fares it with your protegee? I hope, at length, she is contented. But I must beg you would chan ■? her to keep her own counsel, as otherwise she will draw me into a scrape 1 shall hot thank her for.” CECILIA. S7 “ Have you then paid her?” cried Ceciiia, with much amazcin^m. “ Yes; I promibcd you I would, you know.” This intelligence equally deiighud and asiotjished her; she repeatedly thanked nmi lor his attention to hei-petition» and, eager to commuukate her success to Mf. Arnoit, she hastened to find him. “Now,” cried she, “I shall tor- ment you no more with painful commissions ; the tiihs at last are paid.” “ From you, madam,” answered he, gravely, “no com- missions could be painful.” “ Well but,’ answered Cecilia, somewhat disap|x;iht€d, “ you don't seem glad of this ? ' “ Yes,” answered he, with a forced smile, “I am very glad te see you so ” ‘‘ But how was it brought about ? did Mr. Harrel relent ? or did you attack him again?” The hesitation of his answer convinced her there was some mystery in the transaction ; she began to apprehend she had been deceived, and hastily quitting the room, sent for Mrs Flill : but the moment the poor woman appeared, she w«s sadshed of the comiary, for almost frantic with joy andgraiitude, sire immediately ilung herself upon her knees, tp thank her benefactress for having seen her righted. Cecilia then gave her some general advice, promised to continue her friend, and offered her assistance in getting her husband into an hospital; bui she told her ue nad already been in one many months, where he was pronounced in- curable, and was iliciefore desirous to spend nis last days in his own loggings Weil,” Said Ceciiia, “ make them as easy to him as you can, and come to me next week, and I win try to put you in a better way of living.” She then, s ill greatly perplexed about Mr. ArnoU, sought him again, and, after ^various questions and conjec- tures, at length broughr him to confess he had iiimself lent his brother tne sum with which the Hills had been paid. Struck with his geperosity, she poured forth thanks and praises so grateful to his ears, that she soon gave Pirn a le- compeuce, vvliich he would have thought cheaply purchased by half his fortune. CECILIA. BOOK II. CHAPTER I. A MAN OF WEALTH. The meanness with which Mr. Harrel had assumed the credit, as well as accepted the assistance of Mr. Arnott, encreased the disgust he had already excited in Cecilia, and hastened her resolution of quitting his house; and, there- fore, without waiting any longer for the advice of Mr. Monckton, she resolved to go instantly to her other guardi- ans, and see what better prospects their habitations might offer. For this purpose, she borrowed one of the carriages, and gave orders to be driven into the city, to the house of Mr. Briggs. She told her name, and was shewn, by a little shabby foot-boy, into a parlour. Here she waited, with tolerable patience, for h|ilf an hour, but then, imagining the boy had forgotten to tell his mas- ter she was in the house, she thought it expedient to make some enquiry. No bell, however, could she find, and therefore she went into the passage in search of the foot-boy ; but as she was proceeding to the head of the kitchen staiis, she was startled by hearing a man's voice from the upper part of the house, exclaiming in a furious passion, *‘I>are say you have filch- ed it for a dish-clout !'* She called out, however, “ Are any of Mr. Briggs’s ser- vants below ?” ** Anan 1" answered the boy, who came to the foot of the stairs with a knife in one hand, and an old shoe, upon the sole of which he was sharpening it, in the other, ** Docs any one call ?” CECILIA. 89 “ Yes,” said Cecilia. “I do ; for I could not find the bell.” *‘0, we have no bell in the parlour,” returned the boy, “ master always knocks with his stick.” •“ I am afraid Mr. Briggs is too busy to see me, and if so, I will come another time.” “ No, ma'am,” said the boy, “ master's only looking over his things for the wash.” “ Will you tell him, then, that I am waiting ?” “ I has, ma’am ; but master misses his shaving rag, and he says/he won’t come to the Mogul till he has found it.” And then he went on with sharpening his knife. This little circumstance was at least sufficient to satisfy Cecilia, that if she fixed her abode with Mir* Briggs, she should not have much uneasiness to fear from the sight of extravagance and profusion. She then returned to the parlour, and after waiting another half hour, Mr. Briggs made his appearance. Mr. Briggs was a short, thick, sturdy man, with very small keen black eyes, a square face, a dark complexion, and a snub nose. His constant dress, both in winter ancl summer, was a snuff colour suit ofclothes, blue and white speckled woisted stockings, a plain shirt, and a bob wig. He was seldom without a stick in his hand, which he usu- al!}' held to his forehead when not speaking. This bob wig, however, to the no small amazen dd of Cecilia, he now brought into the room upon the fore-tmger of his left hand, while, with his lightj he was smoothing the curls ; and his head, in defiance of the coldness of the weather, was bald and uncovered. “ Well,” cried he, as he entered, “ did you think should not come ?” “ 1 was very willing, sir, to wait your leisure.” “ Ah, ay, knew you had- not much to do'. Been looking for my shaving-rag. Going out of town ; never use such a thing at home, paper does as well. Warrant master Har- rel never heard of such a thing ; ever see him comb his own wig? W’arrant he don’t know how ! never trust mine oat of my hands, the boy would tear off half the hair ; all one to master Harrel, I suppose. Well, which is the warmer man, that’s all ? Will he cast an account with me ? ’ VOL. I. M 3 90 CECILIA. Cecilia, at a loss what to say to this singular exordium, began an apology for not waiting upon him sooner. “ Ay, ah,” cried he, “always gadding, no getting sight of you. Live a fine life; A pretty guardian master^Harrel ! and where's t’other? wdiere’s old Don Puffabout ? “ If you mean Mr. Delvile, sir, 1 have not yet seen him.” “Thought so. No matter ; as well not. Only tell you he’s a German Duke, or a Spanish Don Ferdinand. Well you've me ! poorly off else. A couple of poor ignoramusses! don’t know when to buy nor when to sell. No doing business with either of them. We met once or twice ; all to no purpose ; only heard Don Vampus count his old Grandees ; how will that get interest for money? Then comes master Harrel twenty bows to a word, — looks at a watch, — about as big as a sixpence, — poor raw ninny ! — a couple of rare guardians ! VVell you've me, I say ; mind that !” Cecilia was wholly unable to devise any answer to these effusions of contempt and anger; and therefore his harangue lasted without interruption, till he had exhausted all his subjects of complaint, and emptied his mind of ill-will ; and then, settling his wig, he drew a chair near her, and twinkling his little black eyes in her face, his rage subsi- ded into the most perfect good-humour; and after peering at her for some time with a look of much approbation, he saidjjiith an arch nod, “Well, my duck, got ever a sweet- heat t yet ?” Cecilia laughed, and said, “No.” “Ah, little rogue, don't believe you! all a fib! better speak out : come, fit I should know ; a'n’t you my own ward? to be sure, almost of age, but not quite, so what'^s that to me?” She then, more seriously, assured him she had no intelli- gence of that sort to communicate. “ Well, when you have, tell, that's all. Warrant sparks enough hankering, I’ll give you some advice. Take care of sharpers; don’t trust ' shoe-buckles, nothing but Bristol stones ! tricks in all things. A fine gentleman sharp another man. Never give your heart to a gold-topped cane, nothing but brass, gilt over. Cheats everywhere: fleece CECILIA. 91 you in a year ; won't leave you a groat. But one way to be safe, bring ’em all to me.” Cecilia thanked him for his caution, and promised not to forget his advice. “That’s the way,” he continued, “bring 'em to me. Won't be bamboozled. Know their tricks. Shew 'em the odds on’t Ask for the rent-roll, — see how they’ll look! stare like stuck pigs 1 got no such a thing.” “Certainly, sir, that will be an excellent method of ttial.’’ “Ah, ay, know the way ! soon hnd if they are above par. Be sure don’t mind gold waistcoats: nothing but tinsel, all shew and no substance I better leave the matter to me ; take care of yourself ; know where to find one will do.’’ She again thanked him ; and, being fully satisfied with this specimen of his conversation, and unambitious of any further counsel from him, she arose to depart. “ Well,” repeated he, nodding at her with a look of much kindness, “leave it to me, 1 say; I’ll get you a careful husband, so take no thought about the matter.” Cecilia, half laughing, begged he would not give himself much trouble, and assured him she was not in any haste. All the better,” said he, “good girl! no fear for you ; lookout myself; warrant I’ll find one. Not very easy neither : hard times ! men scarce ! wars and tumults ! stocks low ! women chargeable! but don't fear ; do cui best ; get you off soon.” She then returned to her carriage ; full of reflection upon the scene in which she had just been engaged, and upon the strangeness of hastening from one house to avoid a vice the very want of which seemed to render another insupportable ! but she now found that though luxury was more baneful in its consequences, it was less disgustful in its progress than avarice ; yet, insuperably averse to both, and almost equally desirous to fly from the unjust extravagance of Mr. Harrel, as from the comfortless and unnecessary parsimony of Mr. Briggs, she proceeced instantly to St. James’s-sqiiare, convinced that her third guardian, unless exactly resem- bling one of the others, must inevitably be preferable to botli. m2 92 CECILIA. CHAPTER II. J MAN OF family. THE house of Mr. Dclvile was grand and spacious, fitted up not with modern taste, but with the magnificence ot for- mer times; the servants were all veterans, gorgeous in their liveries, and profoundly respectful in their manners ; every thing had an air of state, but of a state so gloomy, that while it inspired awe, it repressed pleasure. Cecilia sent in her name, and was admitted without diffi- culty, and was then ushered with great pomp thiough sun- dry apartments, and rows of servants, before she came into the presence of Mr. Delvile. He received her with an air of haughty affability, which, to a spirit open and liberal as that of Cecilia, could iliot fail being extremely offensive; but too much occupied with the care of his own importance to penetrate into the feelings of another, he attributed the uneasiness which his reception occasioned to the over-awing predominance of superior rank and consequence. He ordered a servant to bring her a chair, while he only half rose frojii his own upon her first entering the room ; then wavirig his hand and bowing, with a motion that desired her to be seated, he said, “ I am very happy, Miss Beverley, that you have found mealoue ; you would raiely have had the same good fortune. At this time ol day I am generally in a crowd. People of large c .nnections have not much leisure in London, especially if Lttey see a little after their Ov. n affair*:, sand if their estates, like mine, aie dis- persed in vaiious parts of the kingdom. However, I am glati it happens so. And 1 am glac. , too, that you have done n;e the favour of calling without waitiu ■ till I sent, which I really would have done as soon as 1 heard of your ariival, but that the multiplicity of my engagements allowed me no respite," A display of impoitance so ustentaiiouj made Cecilia already half lepent her visit, s.fishcd that the hope in which she had planned it would be fruitless. Mr. Dclvile, oilh imputing to euibarrassment, an in- quietude of countenance that proceeded merely from disap- poiutnient, imagined her veneration was every moment encreasing ; and therefore, pitying a timidity which both CECILIA. 93 gratified and softened him . and equally pleased with himself for inspiring, and With hei for ieeliag a', he a Dated moioaiid more of his greatness, dll he became, at length, soinfinhcly condescenmg, wit- mtention to give her courage, that he totally depressed ,'icti mortification and chagrin. After some general enquiries concerning lier way of life, he told her that he hoped she was contented with her situ- ation at H.arrel's, adding, ‘‘ If you have any thing to com- plain of, remember to whom you may appeal.” He then asked if she had seen Mr. Briggs ? ‘‘ Yes, sir, lam this moment come from his house.” “ I am so.ry for it ; hi>> house cannot be a proper one for the reception of a young lady. When the Dean made application that I would be one of your guaidians, I in- stantly 'sent Igiim a refusal, as is my custom upon all such occasions, vvhjch- indeed occur to me with a hec|uency ex- tremely importunate: but the Dean was a man for whom I had really .a^: regard, and therefore, when I found my refusal hau affected him, I suffered myself lo be prevailed upon to indulge him, contrary not only to iny general rule, but CO my inciindtion.” Here he stopt, as if to receive some compliment; but Cecilia very litiic disposed to pay him any, went no faither tlian an inclinati.ai ot the head. “ I knew not, ho vever,” he continued, “at the time f was induced to give r:.y consent,' with whom I was to be associated ; nor could 1 have imagined tlie Dean so litfle conversant with the dihcinctions of the world, as to disgrace me wim inferior c ,-adjucots; but tnc moment i learnt the state of the affair, 1 msi^md upon withdrawing both my name and couiitenan Here again he paused ; not :n' expectation of an answer from Cecilia, but merely to give her time to m.nvd in what manner he had at last been melted. “The Dean,” he resumed, “was then very ill; my displeasure, I believe, hu.t him. i was very sony for it; he was a worthy man, and iaad not mean: to offend me ; in the end, 1 accepted his apology, and was even peisuaded to accept the office. You nave, a right, thereiore, to consider yourself as personally my ward : and though 1 do not think proper to mix much with your other guardians, 1 sliall 94 CECILIA. always be ready to serve and advise you and much pleased to see you.” “ You do me honour, sir,” said Cecilia, extremely wea- ried of such graciousness, and rising to be gone. ‘ ‘ Pray sit still,” said he with a smile ; “ I have not many engagements for this morning. You must give me some account how you pass your time. Are you much out? The Harrel’s, I am told, live at a great expence. What is their establishment?” “ I don't exactly know, sir ” ‘ ‘ They are a decent set of people, I believe ; are they not ?” “ I hope so, sir.” ‘' And they have a tolerable acquaintance, I believe: I am told so: for I know nothing of them.” “They have, at least, a very numerous one, sir.” “ Well, my dear,” said he, taking her hand, ‘‘ now you have once ventured to come, don’t be apprehensive of repeat- ing your visits : I must introduce you to Mrs. Delvile; I am sure she will be happy to shew you any kindness. Come, therefore, when you please, and without scruple. I would call upon you myself, but am fearful of being cm- barrased by the people with whom you live.” He then rang his bell, and with the same ceremonies which had attended her admittance, she was conducted back to her carriage. And here died away all hope of putting into execution, duiing her minority, the plan of which the formation had given her so much pleasure. She found that her present situation, however wide of her wishes, was by no means the most disagreeable in which she could be placed ; she was tired, indeed, of dissipation, and shocked at the sight of un- feeling extravagance ; but notwithstanding tiie houses of each of her other guardians, were exempt from these particu- lar vices, she saw not any prospect of happiness with either of them ; vulgarity seemed leagued with avarice to drive her from the mansion of Mr. Biiggs, and haughtiness with ostentation to exclude her from that of Mr. Delvile. She came back, therefore, to Portman-square, disap- pointed in her hopes, and sick both of those whom she had quitted, and of those to whom she was returning; but in going to her own apartment, Mrs. Harrel, eagerly stopping CECILIA. 95 her, begged she would come into the drawing-room, where she promised her a most agreeable surprise. Cecilia, for an instant, imagined that some old acquaint- ance was just arrived out of the country ; but, upon her entrance, she saw only Mr. Harrel and some workmen, and found that the agreeable surprise was to proceed from the sight of an elegant Awnin j, prepared for one of the inner apartments, to be fixed over a long dessert-table, which was to be ornamented with various devices of cut glass. “ Did you ever see any thing so beautiful in your life ?" cried Mrs. Harrel ; “and when the table is covered with the coloured ices, and those sort of things, it will be as beautiful again. We shall have it ready for Tuesday se'nniglit.” “ I understood you were engaged to go to the Masque- rade ?” “So we shall ; only we intend to see masks at home fust." “1 have some thoughts," said Mr Harrel, leading the way to another small loom. “ of lunniiig up a flight of steps, and a little light gallery here and so making a little Orchestra. What would such a thing come to., Mr. Tomkins ?" “ O, a trifle, sir," answ^ered Mr. Tomkitis, “a mere nothing." “ Well, then, give orders for it, and let it be done direct- ly. I don't care how slight ir is, but pray let it be very ele- gant. Won't it be n, “ that I was not at home when you called upon me. Pray how do you like my dress ? I assure you I thing it’s the prettiest here. Bat do you know there’s the most shocking thing in the world happened in the next room? I really believe there s a com- mon chimney-sweeper got in ! I assure you it’s enough to frighten one to death, for every time he moves, the soot smells so you can't think ; quite real soot, I assure you ! only conceive how nasty ! I declare I wish with all my heart it would suffocate him.” Here she was interrupted by the re-appearance of Don Devil, who looking around him, and perceiving that his antagonist was gone, again advanced to Cecilia : not how- ever, with the authority of his first approach, for with his wand he had lost much of his power ; but to recompense liimself for this disgrace, he had recourse to another method equally effectual for keeping his prey to hii'nself, for he began a growling, so dismal and disagreeable, that while many of the ladies, and, among the first, the Goddess of Wisdom and Courage, ran away to avoid him, the men all stood aloof, to watch what next was to follow Cecilia now became seriously uneasy ; for she was made an object of general attention, yet could neither speak nor be spoken to. She could suggest no motive for behaviour so whimsical, though she imagined the only person who could have the assurance to practise it was Sir Robert Floyer. After some time spent thus disagreeably, a w’hite domino, who, for a few minutes had been a very ahentive spectator, suddenly came forward, and exclaiming, I'll cross him though he bla'it me! rushing upon the fiend, and grasping one-of his horns, called out to a Harlequin who stood' near him, “Harlequin! do you fear to fight the devil?” “Not I, truly,” answered Harlequin, whose voice i-mme- ' VOL. 1. O 106 C£GIL1A,> diately betrayed young Morrice, and who* issuing from tbc: crowd, whirled himself round before the black gentleman with yet more agility, than he had himself done before Cecilia, gi'ing him, from time to time, many smart blows on his shoulders, head and back, with his wooden sword. The rage of Don Devil at this attack seemed somewhat beyond what a masquerade character rendered necessary; he foamed at the mouth with resentment, and defended himself with so much vehemence, that he soon drove poor Harlequin into another room : but, when he would have returned to his prey, the genius of pantomime, curbed, but not subdued, at the instigation of the white domino, returned to the charge, and by a perpetual rotation of attack and retreat, kept him in constant employment, pursuing him from room to room, and teazing him without cessation or mercy. Meantime Cecilia, delighted at being released, hurried into a corner, where she hoped to breathe and look on in quiet ; and the white domino, having exhorted Harlequin to torment the tormentor, and keep him at bay, .followed her with congratulations upon her recovered freedom. “It is you,” answered she, I ought to thank for it, which indeed I do most heartily. I was so tired of confine- ment that ray mind seemed almost as little at liberty as my person.” “Your persecutor, I presume,” said the domino, "is known to you.” “ I hope so,” answered shei “ because there is one man I suspect, and I should be sorry to find there was another equally disagreeable.” “O, depend upon it,” cried he, “there are many who would be happy to confine you in the same manner ; neither have you much cause for complaint ; you have, doubtless, been the aggressor, and played this game yourself without mercy, for I read in your face the captivity of thousands: haveyou, then, any right to be offended at the spirit of retali- ation which one out of such numbers has courage to exert in return ?” “1 protest,” cried Cecilia, “ I took you for my defender! yvhence is it you have become my accuser?” “ From seeing the ganger to which my incautious knight- CECILIA. 107 crrarttry has exposed me ; I begin, indeed, t® take you for a very mischievous sort of person ; and I fear the poor devil from whom I rescued you, will be amply revenged for his disgrace, by finding that the first use you make of your free- dom, is to doom your deliverer to bondage.” Here they were disturbed by the extreme loquacity of two opposite parties ; and listening attentively, they heard from one side, “My angel! fairest of creatures I goddess of my heart !” uttered in accents of rapture ; while from the other, the vociferation was so violent, they could distinctly hear nothing. The white domino satisfied his curiosity by going to both parties, and then, returning to Cecilia, said, “Can you conjecture who was making those soft speeches? a Shylock ! his knife all the time in his hand, and his design, doubtless, to cul as near the heart as possible ! while the loud cackling from the other side, is owing to the riotous merriment of a noisy Mentor ! When next I hear a disturbance, I shall expect to see some simpering Pythagoras stunned by his talk- ative disciples.” “To own the truth,” said Cecilia, “the almost universal neglect ofihe characters assumed by these masquers, has been the chief source of my entertainment this evening ; for at a place of this sort; the next best thing to a character well supported, is a character ridiculously burlesqued.” “You cannot, then, have wanted amusement,” returned the domino ; “for among all the persons assembled in these apartments, I have seen only three who have seemed con- scious that any change but that of dress was necessary to dis- guise them.” “ And pray who are those?” “ A Don ^ixote, a school-master, and your friend the devil.” “Ocall him not my friend!” exclaimed Cecilia; “for indeed in or out of that garb he is paiticularly my aversion.” friend, then, I will call him,” said the domino ; “ for so, were he ten devils, I must thank hirn, since I owe to him the honour of conversing with you. And, after all, to give him his due, to which, you know, he is even prover- bially entitled, he has shewn such abilities in the perfoira- 0 2 108 CECILIA. ance of his part, so much skill in the display of malice, and so much perseverance in the art of tormenting, that I can- not but respect his ingenuity and capacity. And, indeed, if instead of an evil genius, he had represented a guardian angel, he could not have shown a more refined taste in his choice of an object to hover about.” Just then they were approached by a young hay-maker, to whom the white domino called out, You look as gay and as brisk as if fresh from the hay-field, after only half a day’s work. Pray how is it you pretty lasses find employment for the winter?” “ How ?” cried she, pertly ; why the same as for the summer !” and pleased with her own readiness at repartee, •without feeling the ignorance it betrayed, she tript light- ly on. Immediately after, the schoolmaster, mentioned by the white domino, advanced to Cecilia. His dress was merely a long wrapping gown of green stuff, a pair of red slippers, and a woollen night-cap of the same colour; while, as the symbol of his profession, he held a rod in his hand. “ Ay, fair lady,” he cried, “ how soothing •were it to the austerity of my life, how softening to the rigidity of my manners, might I — without a breakuig out ef bounds which I ought to be the first to discourage, and a “confusion to all order” for which the school-boy should himself chastise his master, be permitted to cast at your feet this emblem of iny authority ! and to forget, in the softness of your conversation, all the roughness of discipline !” “No, no,” cried Cecilia, “I will not be answerable for such corruption of taste !” “This repulse,” answered he, “is just what I feared ; for alas ! under what pretence could a poor miserable peda- gogue presume to approach you ? Should I examine you in the dead languages, would not your living accents charm from me all power of reproof? Could I look at you, and hear a false concord ? Should I doom you to water-gruel as a dunce, would not my subsequent remorse make me want it myself as a madman ? Were your fair hand spread out to me for correction, should I help apylying my lips to it, instead of my rat-tan ? If I ordered you to be called up^ CECILIA. 109 should I ever remember to have sent you back ? and if I commanded you to stand in a corner, how should I forbear following you thither myself?" Cecilia, who had no difficulty in knowing this pretended school-master for Mr. Gosport, was readily beginning to propose conditions for according him her favour, when their ears were assailed by a forced phthisical cough, which they found proceeded horn an apparent old woman, who was a young man in disguise, and whose hobbling gait, grunting voice, and most grievous asthmatic complaints, seemed greatly enjoyed and applauded by the company. “ How true is it, yet how inconsistent," cried the white domino, “that while we all desire to live long, we have ail an horror of being old ! The figure now passing is not meant to ridicule any particular peison, nor to stigmatize any particular absurdity ; its sole view is to expose to con- tempt and derision the general and natural infirmities of age ! and the design is not more disgusting than impolitic ; for why, while so carefully we guard from all approaches of death, should we close the only avenues to happiness in long life, respect, and tenderness." Cecilia, delighted both by the understanding and huma- nity of her new acquaintance, and pleased at being joined by Mr. Gosport, was beginning to be perfectly satisfied with her situation, when, creeping softly towards her, she again perceived the black gentleman. “ Ah !" Ciied she, with some vexation, “ here comes my old tormentor ! Screen me from him if possible, or he will again maks me his prisoner." “Fear not,” cried the white domino; “he is an evil spirit, and we will surely lay him. If one spell fails we must try another." Cecilia then perceiving Mr. Arnott, begged hewouldalso assist in barricading her from the fiend who so obstinately pursued her. Mr. Arnott most gratefully acceded to the proposal ; and the white domino, who acted as commanding officer, as- signed to each his station : he desired Cecilia would keep quietly to her seat, appointed the schoolmaster to be her guard on the left, took possession himself of the opposite post, and ordered Mr, Arnott to stand ceiiiinel in front. 110 CECILIA. This arrangement being settled, the guards of the right and left wings instantly secured their places ; but while Mr. Arnott was considering whether it were better to face the besieged, or the enemy, the arch foe rushed suddenly before him, and laid himself down at the feet of Cecilia. Mr. Arnott, extremely disconcerted, began a serious expostulation upon the ill-breeding of this behaviour ; but the devil, resting all excuse upon supporting his character, only answered by growling. The white domino seemed to hesitate for a moment in what manner to conduct himself, and with a quickness that marked his chagrin, said to Cecilia, “ You told me you knew him — has he any right to follow you?” “ If he thinks he has,” answered she, a little alarmed by his question, “ this is no time to dispute it.” And then, to avoid any hazard of altercation, she dis- creetly forbore making further complaints, preferring any persecution to seriously remonstrating with a man of so much insolence as the Baronet. The school-master laughing at the whole transaction, only said, “And pray, madam, after playing the devil with all mankind, what right have you to complain that one man plays the devil with you ?” “ We shall, at least fortify you,” said the white domino, from any other assailanu no three-headed Cerberus could protect you more effectually ; but you will not, therefore, fancy yourself in the lower regions ; for if 1 mistake not, the torment of three guardians is nothing new to you.” “ And how,” said Cecilia, surprised, “should you know of my three guardians ? I hope I am not quite encompassed with evil spirits!” “ No,” answered he; you will find me as inoffensive as the hue of the domino I wear ; and would I could add as insensible I” “This black gentleman,” said the school-master, “who, and very innocently, I was going to call your black guard, has as noble and fiend like a disposition as I remember to have seen ; for without even attempting to take any diver- sion himself, he seems gratified to his heart’s content in ex- cluding from it the lady he serves.” “He does me an honour I could well dispense with,” CECILIA. Ill said Cecilia, “but I hope he has some secret satisfaction in his situation, which pays him for his apparent inconve- nience." Here the black gentleman half raised himself, and attempted to take her hand ; she started, and with much displeasure drew it back ; he then growled, and again sunk prostrate. “ This is a fiend," said the school-master, “ who to him- self sayeth, Budge mt ! let his conscience never so often say Budge ! Well, fair lady, your fortifications, however, may now be deemed impregnable, since J, with a flourish of my rod, can keep off the young by the recollection of the past, and since the fiend, with a jut of his foot, may keep off the old from dread of the future !" Here a Turk, richly habited and resplendent with jewels, Stalked towards Cecilia, and having regarded her some time, called out, “ I have been looking hard about me the whole evening, and, faith, I have seen nothing handsome before 1" The moment he opened his mouth, his voice, to her utter astonishment, betrayed Sir Robert Floyer ! “Mercy on me,” cried she, aloud, and pointing to the fiend, “ who, then, can this possibly be?” “ Do you not know ?” cried the white domino. “ 1 thought I had known with certainty,” answered she, “ but 1 now find I was mistaken.” “ He is a happy man,” said the school-master, sarcasti- cally looking at the Turk, “ who has removed your suspi- cions only by appearing in another character!” “Why what the deuce, then,” exclaimed the Turk, “ have you taken that black dog therefor me V’ Before this question could be answered, an offensive smell of soot making every body look around the room, the chimney-sweeper already mentioned b.y Miss Laroiles^ was perceived to enter it. Every way he moved, a passage was cleared for him, as tire company, with general disgust, retreated wherever he advanced. He was short, and seemed somewhat incommoded by his dress ; he held his soot bag over one arm, and his shovel under the other As soon as he espied Cecilia, whose situation was such as to prevent her eluding him, he hooted aloud, and came stumping up 112 CECILIA: to her.' “ Ah, ah," he cried, “ found at last then, throw- ing down his shovel, he opened the mouth of his bag, and pointing waggishly to her head, said, “ Come, shall I pop you ?— A good place for naughty girls ; in, I say, poke in ! — cram you up the chimney.” And then he pat forth his sooty hands to reach her cap. Cecilia, though she instantly knew the dialect of her guardian, Mr. Briggs, was not therefore the more willing (o be so handled, and started back to save herself from his touch ; the white domino, also came forward, and 'spread out his arms as a defence to her, while the devil, who was still before her, again began to growl. i •' “ Ah, ah,” cried the chimney-sweeper, laughing, “so, did not know rhe? Poor duck! won’t hurt you'; don’t be frightened ; nothing but old guardian ; all a joke !” and then patting her cheek with his dirty hand, and nodding at her with much kindness, “ Pretty dove,” he added, “be of good heart ! sha'n’t be meddled with ; come to see after you. Heard of your tricks; thought I’d catch you ! — come o’pur- pose. — Poor duck I did not know me ! ha ! ha ! — good joke enough !” “What do you mean, you dirty dog,” cried the Tuik, “ by touching that lady?” “Won’t tell I” answered he; “not your-business. Got a good right. Who cares for pearls? Nothing but French beads pointing with a sneer to his turban. Then, again addressing Cecilia; “Fine doings!” he continued “Here's a place! never saw the like before! turn a man's noddle! all goings out I no comings in! wax candles in every room! servants thick as mushrooms! And where’s the ca^h ? Who’s tp pay the piper? Come to more than a guinea ; warrant master Harrel thinks that nothing !.’ “ A guinea !” contemptuously repeated the Turk ; “ and what do you suppose a guinea will do?” “ What ? Why keep a whole family handsome a week ; — never spend so much myself ; no nor half neither.” “Why then how the devil do you live? do you beg ?” “ Beg ! Who should beg of? You?—Got any thing to give ? Are warm ?” “Take the trouble to speak more respectfully, sir, !” said CECILIA. 113 the Turk, haughtily ; “I See you are sonic low fellow, and I shall not put up with your impudence.” “Shall, shall! Isay,” answered the chimney-sweeper, sturdily. “ Hark'ee, my duck,” chucking Cecilia Under the chin; “don’t be cajoled* nick that spark! Nevermind gold trappings : none of his own ; all a take-in; hired for eighteen-pence! not worth a groat. Never set your heart on a fine outside, nothing within. Bristol stones won't buy stock : only wants to chouse you.” “ What do you mean by that, you little old scrub?” cried the imperious Turk? “ would you provoke me t® soil my fingers by pulling that beastly snub nose ?” For Mr. Briggs had saved himself any actual mask, by merely black- ing his face with soot. “ Beastly snub nose!” sputtered out the chimney-sweeper, in much wrath ; “ good nose enough ; don’t want a better ; good as another man's* Where’s the harm on’t?” “ How could this black-guard get in ?” cried the Turk ; ** I believe he’s a mere common chimney-sweeper out of the streets, for he’s all over dirt and filth. I never saw Such a dress at a masquerade before in my life.” “All the better,” returned the other; “Would not change. What do you think it cost ?” “ Cost ? Why not a crown.” “ A crown ? Ha ! ha !-— a pot o’beer ! Little Torti bor- rowed it ; had it of our own sweep ; said 'twas for himself. 1 bid him a pint : rascal would not take less.” “ Did your uncle,” said the white domino, in a low voice to Cecilia, “ chuse for two of your guardians, Mr. Harrel and Mr. Briggs, to give you an early lesson upon the oppo- site errors of profusion and meanness ?” “My uncle?” cried Cecilia, starting ; “ were you ac- quainted with my uncle ?” “ No,” said he, “ for my happiness I knew him not.” “ You would have owed no loss of happiness to an ac- quaintance witli him,” said Cecilia, very seriously ; “for he was one who dispensed to his friends nothing but good.” “ Perhaps so,” said the domino; but I fear I should have found the good he dispensed through his niece not quite unmixed with evil !” VOL. I. P 114 CECILIA. “ What’s here?” , cried the chimney-sweeper, stumbling over the fiend ; “ what’s this black thing ? Don't like it ; looks like the devil. You sha'n't stay with it ; carry you away ; take care of you myself.” He then offered Cecilia his hand ; but the black gentle- man raising himself upon his knees before her, paid her, in dumb shew, the humblest devoirs, yet prevented her fiom removing. “Ah! ah!” cried the chimney-sweeper, significantly nodding his head ; “smell a rat! a sweet-heart in disguise. No bamboozling ! it won’t do ; a'n’t so soon put upon. If you’ve got any thing to say, tell wie, that's the way. Where’s the cash? Gpt ever a r entail? Are warm? That’s the point. Are warm?” The fiend, without returning any answer, continued his homage to Cecilia, at which the enraged chimney-sweepcf exclaimed,* “Come, come with me ! won't be imposed upon ; ap old fox, — understand trap.” He then again held out his hand, but Cecilia, pointing to the fiend, answered, “ How can 1 come, sir?” , ‘‘Shew you the way,” cried he; “shovel him off.” And taking his shovel, he very roughly set about removing him. The fiend then began a yell so horrible, that it disturbed the whole coniipany ; but the chimney-sweeper only saying, “Aye, aye, blacky, growl away, blacky. makes no odds, — ” sturdily continued his work ; and, as the fiend had no chance of resisting so coarse an antagonist without a serious struggle, he was presently compelled to change his ground. “ Warm work!” cried the victorious chimney-sweeper, taking off his wig, and wiping his head with the sleeves of his dress ; “pure warm work this !” Cecilia, once again freed from her persecutor, instantly quitted her place, almost equally desirous to escape the haughty Turk, who was peculiarly her aversion, arid the fecetious chimney-sweeper, v/hose vicinity, either on account of his dress or his conversation, was by no means desirable. She was not, however, displeased that the white domino and the school-master still continued to attend her. “Pray look,” said the white domino, as they entered CECILIA. 115 another apartment, “at that figure of Hope ; is there any in the room half so full of despondency ?” “The reason, ! however," answered the school-master, “ is obvious ; that light and beautiful silver anchor upon which she reclines, presents an occasion irresistible for an attitude of elegant dejection ; and the assumed character is always given up, where an opportunity offers to display any beauty, or manifest any perfection in the dear proper person !’* “But why," said Cecilia “ sfiould she assume the cha- racter of Hope? Could she not have been equally dejected, and equally elegant as Niobe, or some tragedy queen ?” “ But she does not assume the character,” answered the school-master ; “she does not even think of it : the dress is her object, and that alone fills up all her ideas. Enquire of almost any body in the room concerning the persons they seem to represent, and you will find their ignorance more gross than you can imagine 5 they have not once thought tipon the subject ; accident, or convenience, or caprice has atone directed their choice.” A tall and elegant youth now approached them, whose laurels and harp announced Apollo. The white domino immediately enquired of him if the noise and turbulence of the company had any chance of being stilled into silence arid rapture, by the divine music of the inspired god ? “No,” answered he, pointing to the room in which was erected the new gallery, and whence, as he spoke, issued the sound of an “theie is a flute playing there al- ready.” “ O for a Midas,” cried the white domino, “ to return ta this leather-eared god the disgrace he received from him)*' They now pioceedcd to the apartment which had lately been fitted up for refreshment, and which was so full of company, that they entered it with difficulty. And here they were again joined by Minerva, who, taking Cecilia s hand, said, “Lord, how glad 1 am you ve got away from that frightful black mask! I can't conceive who he is ; nobody can find out ; it's monstrous odd, but he lias not spoke a word all niglit, and be makes such a shocking noise when people touch him, that I assure you it’s enough to put one in a fright.” F 2 116 CECILIA. “And pray,” cried the school-master, disguising his voice, “how earnest thou to take the helmet of Minerva for a fool’s cap ?” .? “ Lord, I have not,” cried she innocently; -why the whole dress is Minerva’s; don't you see?” “My dear child,” answered he, “ thou couldest as well with that little figure pass for a Goliah, as with that little wit for a Pallas.” Their attention was now drawn from the goddess of wisdom to a mad Edgar, who so vehemently ran about the room calling out, “Poor Tom's a-cold !” that in a short time, he was obliged' to take off his mask, from an effect, not very delicate, of the heat ! Soon after, a gentleman, desiring some lemonade, whose toga spoke the consular dignity, though his broken English betrayed a native of France, the school-master followed him, and, with reverence the most profound, began to address him in Latin; but, turning quick towards him, he gaily said, ^'‘Monsieur j’ ai Vhonneu.r de representer Cicercriy Ic grand Ciceron^ pere de sa patrie ! mais quoique j’ai cet honneur, la je ne suis pas pedant! man dieu, Monsieur, jene parle que le Francois dans bonne compagnie !” And, politely bowing, he went on. Just then, Cecilia, while looking about the room for Mrs. Harrel, felt herself suddenly pinched by the cheek, and hastily turning round, perceived again her friend the cliim- ney-s weeper, who, laughing, cried, “Only me! don’t be frightened. Have something to tell you; — had no luck! — got never a husband yet ! can’t find one ! looked all over, too ; sharp as a needle. Not one to be had ! all catched up 1” “ I am glad to hear it, sir,” said Cecilia, somewhat vexed by observing the white domino attentively listening; “and 1 hope, therefore, you will give yourself no further trouble.” “ Pretty duck !” cried he, chucking her under the chin ; “ nc.ver mind, don't be cast down ; get one at last. Leave it to me. Nothing under a plumb ; won't take up with less. Good by, ducky, good by! must go home now Ipegin to be nodding.’* And then, repeating his kind caresses, he walked away. “ Do you think, then,” said the white dirnino, “ mofC CECILIA. 117 highly of Mr. Briggs for discernment and laste than of any body?" “ I hope not!" answered she, “for low indeed should I then think of the rest of the world 1" The commission with which he is charged,” returned the domino, “ has then misled me ; I imagined discernment and taste might be necessary ingredients for making such a choice as your approbation would sanctify ; but perhaps his skill in guarding against any fraud, or deduction in the sti- pulation he mentioned, may be ail that is requisite for the execution of his trust." “ I understand very well," said Cecilia, a little hurt, “the severity of your meaning ; and if Mr. Briggs had any commission but of his own suggestion, it would hil me with shame and confusion ; but as that is not the case, those, at least, /are sensations which it cannot give me." “ My meaning," died the domino, with some earnest- ness, “should 1 express it seriously, would but prove to you the respect and admiration with which you have inspired me and if indeed, as Mr. Briggs hinted, such a prize is to be purchased by riches I know nor, from what I have seen of its merit,' any sum I should think adequate to its value." “You are determined, I see," said Cecilia, smiling, “to make most liberal amends for your asperity." A loud clack of tongues now interrupted their discourse ; and the domino, at the desire of Cecilia, for whom he had procured a seat, went forward to enquire what was the matter. But scarce had he given up his place a moment, before, to her great mortification, it was occupied by the fiend. Again, but with the same determined silence he had hitherto preserved, he made signs of obedience and homage, and her perplexity to conjecture who he could be, or what were his motives for this persecution, became tlie more urgent, as they seemed ihc less likely to be satisfied. But the fiend, who was no other than Mr. Monckton, liad every instant less encouragement to make himself known ; bis provocation at its failure had caused him thebifteiest disa|> pointment ; he had intended, in the character of a tor- mentor, not only to pursue and hover around her hirhself, 118 CECILIA* but he had also hoped, inithe same character, to have kept at a distance all other admirers : but with the violence wkh which he had over-acted his part, by raising her disgusftand the indignation of the company,, rendered his views wholly abortive : while the consciousness of an extravagance for which, if discovered, he could assign no reason not liable to excite suspicions of his secret motives, reduced him to guard- ing a painful and most irksome silence the whole evening. And Cecilia, to whose unsuspicious mind the idea of Mr, Monckton had never occurred, added continually to the cru- elty of his situation, by an undisguised aversion to his assi- duity, as well as by a manifest preference to the attendance of the white domino. All, therefore, that his disappointed scheme now left in his power, was to watch her motions, listen to her discourse, and inflict occasionally upon others some part of the chagrin with which he was tormented himself. While they were in this situation, Harlequin, in conse«» quence of being ridiculed by the Turk for want of agility, offered to jump over the new dessert-table, and desired to have a little space cleared to give room for his motions. It was in vain the people who distributed the refreshments, and were placed at the other side of the table, expostulated upon the danger of the experiment ; Morrice had a rage of enterprize untamcable, and, therefore, first taking a run, he attempted the leap. The consequence was such as might naturally be expect- ed ; he could not accomplish his purpose, but, finding him* self falling, imprudently caught bold of the lately erected Awning, and pulled it entirely upon his own head, and with it the new contrived lights, which in various forms were fixed to it, and which all came down together. The mischief and confusion occasioned by this exploit were very alarming, and almost dangerous ; those who were near the table suffered most by the crush, but splinters ot the glass flew yet further ; and as the room was small, had been only lighted up by lamps hanging from the Awning, it was now in total darkness, except close to the door, which was still illuminated from the adjoining apartments.. The clamour of Harlequin, who was covered with glass, papier machec, lamps, and oil, the screams of the ladies. CECILIA. 119 the universal buz of tongues, and the struggle between the frighted crowd which was enclosed, to get out, and the curious crowd from the other apartments, to get in, occa- sioned a disturbance and tumult equally noisy and con- fused. But the most serious sufferer was the unfortunate fiend, who being nearer the table than Cecilia, was so pressed upon by the numbers which poured from it, that he found a separation unavoidable, and was unable, from the darkness and the throng, to discover whether she was still in the same place, or had made her escape into another. She had, however, encountered the white domino, and under his protection, was safely conveyed to a further part of the room. Her intention and desire were to quit it imme- diately, but at the remonstrance of her conductor, she con- sented to remain sometime longer. “ The conflict at the door,” said he, “ will quite overpower you. Stay here but a few minutes, and both parties will have struggled them- selves tired, and you may then go without difficulty. Mean- time, can you not, by this faint light, suppose me one of your guardians, Mr. Briggs, for example, or, if he is too old for me, Mr. Harrel, and entrust yourself to my care?” “You seem wonderfully well acquainted with my guar- dians,” said Cecilia ; “ I cannot imagine how you have had your intelligence.” “ Nor can I,” answered the domino, “imagine how Mr. Briggs became so particularly your favourite as to be en- trusted with powers to dispose of you.” “ You are mistaken indeed; he is entrusted with no powers but such as his own fancy has suggested.” “ But how has Mr. Deivile offended you, that ^vlth him only you seem to have no commerce or communication ?” “ Mr. Deivile !” repeated Cecilia, still more surprised, “ are you also acquainted -with Mr. Deivile?” “He is certainly a man of fashion,” continued the domi- no, “and he is also a man of honour ; surely, then, he would be more pleasant for confidence and consultation, than one whose only notion of happiness is money, whose only idea of excellence is avarice, and whose only concep- tion of sense is distrust-!” Here a violent outcry again interrupted their con versa. 120 CECILIA. tion ; but not till Cecilia had satisfied her doubts concerning the white domino, by conjecturing he was Mr. Belfield< who might easily, at the house of Mr. Monckton, have ga- thered the little circumstances of her situation to which he alluded, and whose size and figure e.xacily resembled those of her new acquaintance. The author of the former disturbance was now the occa- sion of the present : the fiend, having vainly traversed the room in search of Cecilia, stumbled accidentally upon Har^ lequin, before he was freed from the relicks of his own mischief; and unable to resist the temptation of opportu- nity, and the impulse of revenge, he gave vent to the wrath so often excited by the blunders, forwardness, and tricks of Mon ice, and inflicted upon him, with his own wooden sword, which he seized for that purpose, a chastisement the most serious and severe. Poor Harlequin, unable to imagine any reason for this violent attack, and already cut with glass, and bruised with the fall, spared not his lungs in making known his disap- probation of such treatment: but the fiend, regardless either of his complaints or his resistance, forbore not to be- labour him till compelled by the entrance of people with lights And then, after artfully playing sundry anticks under pretence of still supporting his character, with a mo- tion too sudden for prevention, and too rapid for pursuit, he escaped out of the room, and hurrying down stairs, threw himself into a hackney-ehair, which conveyed him to a place where he privately changed his dress before he returned home : bitterly repenting the experiment he had made, and conscious too late that had he appeared in a cha- racter he might have avowed, he would, without impropri- ety, have attended Cecilia the whole evening. But such is deservedly the frequent fate of cunning, which w'hile it plots surprise and detection of others, commonly overshoots its mark, and ends in its own disgrace. The introduction of the lights now making manifest the confusion which the frolic of Harlequin had occasioned, he •was seized with such a dread of the resentment of Mr. Har- rel, that forgetting blows, bruises and wounds, not one of which were so frightful to him as reproof, he made the last exhibition of his agility by an abrupt and hasty retreat. CECILIA. 121 He had, however, no reason for apprehension, since in every thing lliat regarded expense, Mr. Harrcl had no feel- ing, and his Lady had no thought. The rooms now began to empty very fast, but among the few masks yet remaining, Cecilia again peiceived Don Quixote ; and while in conjunction with the white domino, she was allowing him the praise of having supported his character with more uniform propriety than any other person in the a-sembly, she observed him taking oflp his mask for the convenience of drinking some lemonade, and, looking in his face, found he was no other than Mr bel- field ! Much astonished, and more than ever perplexed, she again turned to the white domino, who seeing in her counte- nance a surprise of which he knew not the tea son, said, half laughing “ You think, perliaps I shall never be gone ? And indeed I am almost of the same opinion ; but what can I do ? Instead of growing weaiy by tne length oi my stay, my reluctance to shorten it encieases with its dura- tion ? and all the methods 1 take, whethei by speaking to you or looking at you, with a view to be satiated, only double my eagerness for looking and listening again ! I must go however ; and if 1 am happy, I ma> perhaps meet with you again, though, if 1 am wise, 1 shall never seek you more ! " And then, with the last straggle’s that reluctantly disap- peared, he made his exit; leaving Cecilia greatly pleased with his conversation and his manncr,s, but exwemely perplexed to account for his knowledge of her affairs and situation. The school-master had already been gone some time. She was now earnestly pressed by the Harrels ..nd Sir Robert, who still remained, to send to a warehouse for a dress, and accompany them to the Pantheon ; but though she was not without some inclinatiorr to comply, in thehope of farther prolonging the entertainment of an evening from which she had received much pleasure, she disliked the attendance of the Baronet, and felt averse to giant any request that he could make, and therefore she begged they would excuse her ; aird having waited to see their dresses, which were very superb, she retired to her own apartment, A great variety of conjecture upon all that had passed, VOL, 1, ^ 122 CECILIA. now, and till the moment that she sunk to rest, occupied her mind ; the exlraoidinary persecution of the fiend ex- cited at once her curiosity and amazement, while the know- ledge of her affairs shewn by the white domino, surprised her not less, and interested her more. CHAPTER IV. AN AFFRAY. THE next morning during breakfast, Cecilia was informed that a gentleman desired to speak with her. She begged permission of Mrs. Harrel to have him asked up stairs ; and was not a little surprised when he proved to be the same old gentleman whose singular exclamations had so much struck her at Mr. Moncklon s, and at the rehearsal of Artaserse. Abruptly, and with a stern aspect advancing toher, “ You are rich,” he cried ; “ are you therefore worthless ?” “I hope not 1” answered she, in some consternation; while Mrs. Harrel, believing his intention was to rob them, ran precipitately to the bell, which she rang without ceasing till two or three servants hastened into the room ; by which time, being less alarmed, she only made signs to them to stay, and stood quietly herself to wait what would follow. The old man, without attending to her, continued his dia- logue with Cecilia, “ Know you then,” he said, “a blameless use of riches? such a use as not only in the broad glare of day shall shine resplendent, but in the darkness of midnight, and stillness of repose, shall give you reflections unembittered, and slum- bers unbroken? tell me, know you this use?” “Not so well, perhaps,” answered she, “ as I ought r but I am very willing to learn better.” “Begin, then, while yet youth and inexperience, new to the callousness of power and affluence, leave something good to work upon ; yesterday you saw the extravagance of lux- ury and folly ; to day look deeper, and see and learn to pity the misery of disease and penury.” He then put into her hand a paper, which contained a CECILIA 123 most. affecting account of the misery to which a poor and wretched family had been reduced, by sickness, and various other misfortunes. Cecilia, “ open as day to melting charity,” having hastily perused it, took out her purse, and offering him three gui- neas. said, “ You must diiect me, sir, what to give, if this is insufficient.” , “ Hast thou so much heart ?” cried he, with emotion, “and has fortune, though it has cursed thee with the temp- tation of prosperity, not yet rooted from thy mind its native benevolence ? I return in part thy liberal contribution ; this,” taking one guinea, “doubles my expectations ; I will not, by making thy charity distress thee, accelerate the fatal hour of hardness and degeneracy ” He was then going; but Cecilia, following him, said, “ No, take it all ! Who should assist the poor if I will not? Rich< withour connectioris ; powerful , without wants; upon whom have they any claim it riOt upon me ?” “True,” cried he, receiving the rest, “and wise as true. Give, therefore, whilst >et thou hast the heart to give, and make, in thy days of itmoi.ence and kindness, some interest with heaven and the poor!” And then he dis pp ared. “Why, my dear,” cried Mrs, Harrel, “what could in- duce you to give the man so muth money? Don’t you see he is Crazy? I dire say he would h we been just as well contented with sixpence.” “J know not what he is,” said Cecilia, “ but his man- ners are not mo' e singular than his sentiments are affecting ; and if he is actuated by charity to raise srabsr riptions foi the indigent, he can surely apply to no one who ought so leadily to contribute as myself.” Mr. Harrel then came in, and his lady most eagerly told him the transaction. “Scandalous!” he exclaimed; “ why this is no better than being a house-bieaker ! Pray give orders never to ad- mit him again. Three guineas! i never heard so impudent a thing in my life I Indeed, Miss Beverley, you must be more discreet in future, you wilt else be ruined befote you know where you are.” “Thus it is,” said Cecilia, half smiling, “that we can all <2 2 CECILIA. 1 § 4 * lecture one another ! to-day you recommend ceconomy to me ; yesterday I with difficulty forbore recommending it to you.” “ Nay,” answered he, “that was quite another matter; expense incur red in the common way of a man's living is quite another thing to an extortion of this sort.” “It is another thing, indeed,” said she, “but I know not that it i^ therefore a better.*' “Mr Harrel made no answer: and Cecilia, privately moralizing uj^on the different estimates of expense and ceco* noiny made by the dissipated and the charitable, soon retired to her own apartment, determined firmly to adhere to her late adopted plan, and h- ping, by the assistance of her new and very singular monitor, to extend her practice of doing good, by enlarging her knowledge of distress. Objects are, however, never wanting for the exercise of benevolence; report soon published her liberality, and those who wished to believe it, failed not to enquire into its truth. She was soon at the head of a little h'^pd of pensioners, and, never satisfied with the generosity oil her donations, found in a very short time, that the common allowance of her guardians was scarce adequate to the calls of her munifi- cence. And thus, in acts of goodness and charity, passed undis- turbed another week o. the life of Cecilia : but when the fervour of self-approbation lost its novelty- the pleasure with which her new pian was begun first subsided into tranquiU lity, and then sunk into languor. To a heart foimed for friendship and affection the chai ms of solitude aie very short- lived ; and though she had sickened of the turbulence of perpetual company, she now wearied of passing all her time by herself, and sighed foi the Comfort of society, and the re- lief of communication. But she saw with astonishment the difficulty with which this was to be obtained : the end-? less succession of diveisions, the continual rotation of as- semblies, the nnmerousness of splendid engagements, of which while every one complained, eve?y one was pioud to boast, so effectually impeded private meetings and friendly intercourse, that, whichever way she turned herself, all Commerce seemed impiacticable, but such as either led to dissipation, or accidentally flowed from it. CECILIA. 125 Yet finding the error into which her ardour of reforma- tion had hurried her, and that a rigid seclusion from com- pany was productive or a lassitude as little favourable to active virtue as dissipation itself, she resolved to soften her plan, and by mingling amusement with benevolence, to try, at least, to approach that golden mean, which like the phi- losopher's stone, always eludes our grasp, yet always invites our wishes. For this purpose she desired to attend Mrs. Harrel to the next opera that should be represented. The following Saturday, therefore, she accompanied that lady and Mrs. Mears to the Hay market, escorted by Mr. Arnott. They were very late ; the opera was begun, and even in the lobby the crowd was so great that their passage was ob- structed. Here they were presently accosted by Miss La- rolles, who, running up to Cecilia and taking her hand, said, “ Loid, you can’t conceive how glad I am to see you ! why, my dear creature, where have you hid youi self these twenty ages ? You are quite in luck in coming to-night, I assure you ; it’s the best opera we have had this season : there’s such a monstrous crowd there’s no stirring. We sha n’t get in this half hour. The coffee-room is quite full ; only come and see ; is it not delightful?” This intimation was sufficient for Mrs. Harrel, whose love of the opera was merely a love of company, fashion, and shew ; and therefore to the coffee-room she leadily led the way. And here Cecilia found rather the appearance of a bril- liant assembly of ladies and gentlemen, collected merely to see and to entertain one another, than of distinct and casual parties, mixing solely from necessity, and waiting only for room to enter a theatre. The fit St peison that addressed them was Captain Aiesby, who, with his usual de.icate languishmcnt, smiled upon Cecilia, and softly whispepirng, “ How divinely you look to nigiit!” proceeded to pay his compliments to some other ladies, “Do pray now',” cried Miss Larolles, “observe Mr. Meadows! only just see where he has fixed himself! in the very best place in the room, and keeping the fire from every 126 CECILIA. body! I do assure you that's always his way, and it s monstrous provoking, for if one’s ever so cold, he lollops so, that one’s quite staived! But you must know theies another thing he does that is quite as bad, for if he gets a seat, he nevei offers to move, if he sees one sinking with fatigue. And besides, if one is waiting for one's cairiage two hours together, he makes it a rule never to stir a step to see for it. Only think how monstrous !” “These are heavy tomplaints, indeed," said Cecilia, looking at him attentively ; “ I sliould have expected from his appearance a very different account of his gallantly, for he seems dressed with more studied elegance tiian any body here." “ O yes," cried Miss LarolLes, “he is the sweetest dresser in the world : he has the most delightful taste you can con- ceive, nobody has half so good a fancy. I assure you it s a great thing to be spoke to by him : we are all of us quite angry when he won't take any notice of us." “is your anger,” said Cecilia, laughing, “ in honour of himself or of his coat ?” “ Why, Lord, don’t you know all this time that he is an tnnuyeV' “1 know at least,” answered Cecilia, “ that he would soon make one of me." “ O but one is never affonted with an ennuye^ if he is ever so provoking, because one always knows what it means." “Is he agreeable ?” “ Why, to tell you the truth, — but pray don’t mention it, — I think him most excessive ci agreeable I He yawns in one's face every time one looks at him. I assure you sometimes I expect to see him fall fast asleep while I am talking to him, for he is so immensely absent he don't hear one half that one says ; only conceive how honid !" “ But why, then, do you encourage him? why do you take any notice of him ?” “ O, every body does, I assure you, else I would not for the world ; but he is so courted you have no idci. How- ever, ofall things let me advise you never to dance with him ; I did once myself, and I declare I was quite distressed to death the whole time, for he was taken with such a fit of CECILIA. 127 absence he knew nothing he was about, sometimes skip- ping and jumping with all the violence in the wodd, just as if he only danced for exercise, and sometimes standing quite still, or lolling against the wainscot and gaping, and taking no more notice of me than if he had never seen me in his life !” The Captain now, again advancing to Cecilia, said, “So you Hould not do us the honour to try tlie masquerade at the Pantheon? however, I hear you h d a very brilliant spectacle at Mr Han el’s. I was quite fla desespoir that I could not have the honour of sliding in; i did mon possible ^ but it was cjuiie bryoiid uit.” Cecilia now, gsowing very impatient to hear the opera, begged to know il they might not make a trial to get into the pit ? “ I fear,” said the Captain, smiling as they passed him, without otfering any assistarue, “ you will find it t.xtreme petrifying ; for niy part, I confess J am not upon the prin- ciple of crowding.” The ladies, h 'wever accompanied by Mr. Arnott, made thcattempt, and socm found, according to the custom of report, that the difficulty, for the piea^-ure uf talking of it, had been considerably exaggeraied They were separated indeed but their ai cornnuxiadf'n was tolerably good. Cecilia was much vexed to hod the first act of the opera almost over; but she was soon still moie dissatisfied when she discovered that she had nocliance (d hearing the little which remained : the place she had haj;pened to find vacant was next to a party of young ladies, who w ere so earnestly engaged in their own discourse, that they listened not to a note of the opera, and so infinitely diverted with their own witticisms, that their tittering and loquacity allowed no one in their vicinity to hear better than themselves Cecilia tried in vain to confine her attention to the singers, she was distant from the stage, and to them she was near, and her fruitless attempts all ended in chagrin and impatience. At length she resolved to make an effort for entertain- ment in another way, and since the expectations which brought her to the opera were destroyed, to try by listening to her fair neighbours, whether those who occasioned her disappointment, could make her any amends. 128 CECILIA. For this purpose she turned to them wholly ; yfct was kt first in no little perplexity to understand what was going forward, since so universal was the eagerness for talking, and so insurmountable the antipathy to listening, that every one seemed to have her wishes bounded by a continual utter- ance of words, without waiting for any answer, or scarce even desiring to be heard. But when, somewhat more used to their dialect and manner, she began better to comprehend their discourse, wretchedly indeed did it supply to her the loss of the opera. She heard nothing but desciiptions of trimmings, and com- plaints of hair dressers, hints of conquest that teemed with vanity, and histories of engagements which were inflated with exultation. At the end of the act, by the crowding forward of the gentlemen to see the dance, Mrs. Harrel had an oppo'tunity of making room for her by herself, and she had then some reason to expect hearing the rest of tlie opera in peace, for the company before her consisting entirely of young men, seemed, even during the dance, fearful of speaking, lest their attention should be drawn for a moment from the stage. But, to her infinite surprise, no sooner was the second act begun, than their attention ended ! they turned from the performers to each other, and entering into a whispering, but gay conversation, which though not loud enough to disturb the audience in general, kept in the ears of their neighbours, a buzzing which interrupted all pleasure from the representation. Of this effect of their gaiety it seemed uncertain whether they were conscious, but very evident that they were careless. The desperate resource which she had tried during the first act, of seeking entertainment from the very conversa- tion which prevented her enjoying it, was not now even in her power ; for these gentlemen, though as negligent as the young ladies had been whom they disturbed, were much more cautious whom they instructed ; their language was ambiguous, and their terms, to Cecilia, were unintel- ligible : their subjects, indeed, required some discretion being nothing less than a ludicrous calculation of the age and duration of jointured widows, and of the chances and expectations of unmarried young ladies. CECIUA. 129 But what more even than their talking provoked her, was finding that the moment the act was over, when she cared not if their vociferation had been incessant, one of them called out, ‘‘Come, be quiet, the dance is begun and then they were again all silent attention! In the third act, however, she was more fortunate ; the gentlemen again changed their places, and they were suc- ceeded by others who came to the opera not to hear them- selves but the performers : and as soon as she was permitted to listen, the voice of Pacchierotti took from her all desire to hear any thing but itself. During the last dance she was discovered by Sir Robert Floyer, who, sauntering down fop’s alley, stationed himself by her side, and whenever the Jigurante relieved the prin- cipal dancers, turned his eyes from the stage to her face, as better worth his notice, and equally destined for his amuse- ment. Mr. Monckton too, who for some time had seen and watch- ed her, now approached ; he had observed with much sa- tisfaction that her whole mind had been intent upon the performance, yet still the familiarity of Sir Robert Fioyer’s admiration disturbed and perplexed him ; he determined, therefore, to make an effort to satisfy his doubts by examin- ing into his intentions ; and taking him apart, before the dance was quite over, “ Well,” he said, “ who is so hand- some here as Harrel’s ward ?” “Yes,” answered he, calmly, “she is handsome, but I don’t like her expression.” “No I why, what is the fault of it?” “ Proud, cursed proud. It is not the sort of woman I like. If one says a civil thing to her, she only wishes one at the devil for one's pains.” “ O, you have tried her, then, have you ? why you arc not, in general, much given to say civil things.” “ Yes, you know I said something of that sort to her once about Juliet, at the rehearsal. Were not you by?” “What then, was that all! and did you imagine one compliment would do your business with her ?” “ O, hang it, whoever dreams of complimenting the wo- men now? that’s all at an end.” “ You won't find she thinks so, though ; .for, as you well VOL. I. R 4 CECILIA. ISO say, her pride is insufferable ; and I, who have long known her, can assure you it does not diminish upon intimacy.” “Perhaps not — but there’s very pretty picking in 30001. per annum! one would not think much of a little incum- brance upon such an estate.” “ Are you quite sure the estate is so considerable ? Report « mightily given to magnify.” v “0,1 have pretty good intelligence ; though, after all, I don't know but I may be off; she’ll take a confounded deal of time and trouble.” Monckton, too much a man of interest and of the world to, cherish that, delicacy which covets universal admiration for the object of its fondness, then artfully enlarged upon the obstacles he already apprehended, and insinuated such others as he believed would be most likely to intimidate him. But his subtlety was lost upon the impeneiiablc Baronet, who possessed that hard insensibility which obstb nately pursues its own course, deaf to what is said, and in- different to what is thought. Meanwhile, the ladies were now making way to the coffee-room, though very slowly, on account of the crowd ; and just as they got near the lobby, Cecilia perceived Mr. Belfield, who, immediately making himself known to her, was offering his service to hand her out of the pit, when Sir Robert Floyer, not seeing, or not heeding him, pressed for- ward, and said, “ Will you let me have the honour, Miss Beverley , of taldng care of you ?” Cecilia, to whom he grew daily more disagieeable, coldly declined his assistance, while she readily accepted that which had first been offered her by Mr. Belfield. The haughty Baronet, extremely nettled, forced his way on, and rudely stalking up to Mr. Belfield, motioned with his hand for room to pass him, and said, “ Make way, sir !" Make !• way for me, sir!” cried Belfield, opposing him with one hand, while with the other he held Cecilia. “You , sir? and who are you, sir ?” demanded the Ba- ronet, disdainfully. “ Of that, sir, I shall give you an account whenever you please," answered Belfield, with equal scorn. “ What the devil do you mean, sir ?” “ Nothing very difficult to be understood,” replied Bd- CECILIA. 131 6eld, and attempted to draw on Cecilia, who, much alarm- ed, was shrinking back. ^Sir Robert then, swelling with rage, reproachfully turned to her and said, “Will you suffer such an impertinent fellow as that. Miss Beverley, to have the honour of taking your hand Belfield, with great indignation, demanded what he meant by the term impertinent fellow ? and Sir Robert, yet more insolently repeated it: Cecilia, extremely shocked, earnestly besought them both to be quiet ; but Belfield, at the repeti- tion of this insult, hastily let go her hand, and put his own upon his sword, while Sir Robert, taking advantage of his situation, in being a step higher than his antagonist, fiercely pushed him back, and descended into the lobby. Belfield enraged beyond endurance, instantly drew his sword, and Sir Robert was preparing to follow his example, when Cecilia, in an agony of fright, called out, “ Good Heaven! will nobody interfere ?” And then a young man, forcing his way through the crowd, exclaimed, “For shame, for shame, gentlemen I is this a place for such violence?" Belfield, endeavouring to recover himself, put up his sword, and though in a voice half choaked with passion, said, “ I thankyou, sir ! I was off my guard. I beg pardon of the whole company.” Then, walking up to Sir Robert, he put into his hand a card with his name and direction, saying, With you, sir, I shall be happy to settle what apologies are necessiry at your first leisure,” and hurried away. Sir Robert exclaiming aloud that he should soon teach him to whom he had been so impeitinent, was immedi- ately going to follow him, when the affrighted Cecilia again called out aloud, “ Oh stop him ! — good God ! will nobody stop him !” The rapidity with which this angry scene had passed had filled her with amazement, and the evident resentment of the Baronet upon refusing his assistance, gave her an immediate consciousness that she was heisclf the leal cause of the quarrel ; while the manner in which he w'as prepar- ing to follow Mr.Belfield, convinced her of the desperate scene which was lilcdy to succeed ; fear, therefore, o%:cn- R. 2 1S2 CECILIA* conilng every other feeling, forced from her this exclamation before she knew what she said. The moment she had spoken, the young man who had already interposed again rushed forward, and seizing Sir Robert by the arm, warmly remonstrated against the violence of his proceedings, and being presently seconded by other gentlemen, almost compelled him to give up his design. Then, hastening to Cecilia, Be not alarmed, madam,’' he Cried, “all is over, and every body is safe.” Cecilia, finding herself thus addressed by a gentleman she had never before seen, felt extremely ashamed of having rendered her interest in the debate so apparent ; she curtsied to him in some confusion, and taking hold of Mrs. Harrel’i arm, hurried her back into the pit, in order to quit a crowd, of which she now found herself the principal object. Curiosity, however, was universally e.xcited, and her retreat served but to inflame it : some of the ladies and most of the gentlemen, upon various pretences, returned into the pit merely to look at her, and in a few minutes the report was current that the young lady who had been the occasion of the quarrel, was dying with love for Sir Robert floyer. Mr. Monckton, who had kept by her side during the whole affair, felt thunder-struck by the emotion she had' shewn ; Mr. Arnott too, who had never quitted her, wished himself exposed to the same danger as Sir Robert, so that he might be honoured with the same concern : but they were both too much the dupes of their own apprehensions and jealousy, to perceive that what they instantly imputed to fondness, proceeded simply from general humanity, acci- dentally united with the consciousness of being accessary to the quarrel. The young stranger, who had officiated as mediator be- tween the disputants, in a few moments followed her with a glass of water, which he had brought from the cofRe- room, begging her to drink it and compose herself. Cecilia, though she declined his civility with more vexa- tion than gratitude, perceived, as she raised her eyes to thank him, that her new friend was a young man very stri- kingly elegant in his address and appearance. Miss Larolles next, who, with her party, carac back int©: CECILIA. 13 $ the pit, ran Bp to Cecilia, crying, “O my dear creature, what a monstrous shocking thing! You've no idea how I am frightened do you know 1 happened to be quite at the further end of the coffee-room when it began, and could not get out to see what was the matter for ten ages ; only con- ceive what a situation!’^ “Would your fright, then, have been less,” said Cecilia, “ had you been nearer the danger ?” “O Lord no, for when I came within sight I was fifty times wofse I I gave such a monstrous scream, that it quite made Mr. Meadows start. 1 dare say he’ll tell me of it these hundred years : but really when I saw them draw their swords, I thought I should have died ; I was so ama- zingly surprised you’ve no notion.” Here she was interrupted by the re-appearance of the active stranger, who again advancing to Cecilia, said, “ I am in doubt whether the efforts I make to revive will please or irritate you, but though you rejected the last cor- dial I ventured to present you, perhaps you will look with a more favourable eye towards that of which I am now the herald.” Cecilia then casting her eyes around, saw that he was followed by Sir Robert Floyer. Full of displeasure both at this introduction and at his presence, she turned hastily to Mr. Arnott, and entreated him to enquire if the carriage was not ready. Sir Robert, looking at her with all the e.xultation of new- raised vanity, said, with more softness than he had ever before addressed her, “ Have you been frightened ?” “ Every body, 1 believe, was frightened,” answered Cecilia, with an air of dignity intended to check his rising expectations. “ There was no sort of cause,” answered he : “the fellow did not know who he spoke to, that was all.” “Lord, Sir Robert,” cried Miss Larolies, “how could you be so shocking as to draw your sword? you can’t ton- ceive how horrid it looked.” “Why i did not draw my sword,” cried he, “1 only had my hand on the hilt.” “Lord, did not you, indeed? well, every body said you did, and , I’m sure I thought I sa^w five-and-twenty 134 CECILIA. swords all at once. I thought one of you would be killed every moment. It was horrid disagreeable, I assure you.” Sir Robert was now called away by some gentlemen ; and Mr. Monckton, earnest to be better informed of Cecilia’s real sentiments, said, with affected concern, “At present this matter is merely ridiculous ; I am sorry to think in how short a time it may become more important.” “burely,” cried Cecilia, with quickness, “some of their friends will interfere ! surely upon so trifling a subject they will not be so mad, so inexcuseable, as to proceed to more serious resentment !” “ Which ever of them,” said the stranger, “ is most honoured by this anxiety, will be mad indeed to risk a life so valued 1” “ Cannot you, Mr. Monckton,” continued Cecilia, too much alarmed to regard this insinuation, “ speak with Mr. Belfieid ; you are acquainted with him, I know : is it im- possible you can follow him?” “ I will with pleasure do whatever you wish j but still if Sir Robert ” “ O, as to Sir Robert, Mr. Harrel, I am very sure, will undertake him ; I will try to see him to night myself, and entreat him to exert all his influence.” “Ah, madam,” cried the stranger, archly, and lowering his voice, “those French beads and Bristol stones have not, 1 find, shone in vain.” At these words Cecilia recognized her white domino ac- quaintance at the masquerade ; she had before recollected his voice, but was too much perturbed to consider where or when she had heard it. “ If Mr. Briggs,” continued he, “does not speedily come forth with his plum friend, before the glittering. of swoEds and spears is joined to that of j,ewels,, the glare will be so resplendent, that he will fear to come within the influence of its rays. Though, perhaps, he may only think the stror^ei the light, the better he shall see to count his guineas; for as “ in ten thousand pounds. “ Ten thousand charms are centred,” in an hundred thousand the charms may have such magic CECILIA. 135 power, that he may defy the united efforts of tinsel and knight errantry to deliver you from the golden spell.” Here the Captain, advancing to Cecilia, said, “I have been looking for you in vain partout^ but the crowd has been so accablant I was almost reduced to despair. Give me leave to hope you are now recovered from the korreur of this little fracas V’ Mr. Arnott then brought intelligence that the carriage was ready. Cecilia, glad to be gone, instantly hastened to it; and, as she was conducted by Mr. Monckton, most ear- nestly entreated him to take an active part, in endeavouring to prevent the fatal consequences with which the quarrel seemed likely to terminate. ^ ^ ^ CHAPTER V. A FASHIONABLE FRIEND. AS soon as they returned home, Cecilia begged Mrs. Harrel not to lose a moment before she tried to acquaint Mr. Harrel with the state of the affair. But that lady was too helpless to know in what manner to set about it ; she could not tell where he was, she could not conjecture where he might be. Cecilia then rang for his own man, and upon enquiry, heard that he was, in all probability, at Brookes's, in St. James’s Street. She then begged Mrs. Harrel would write to him. Mrs. Harrel knew not what to say. Cecilia, therefore, equally quick in forming and executing her designs, wrote to him herself, and entreated that with- out losing an instant he would find out his friend Sir Robert Fioyer, and endeavour to effect an accommodation between him and Mr.Belfield, with whom he had a dispute at the opera house. The man soon returned with an answer that Mr. Harrel would not foil to obey her commands. She determined to sit up till he came home, in order to learn the event of the negociation. She considered herself as the efficient cause of the quarrel, yet scarce knew how or 136 CEGJLIA. in what to blame herself ; the behaviour of Sir Robert had always been ojOPensive to her ; she disliked his manners, and detested his boldness ; and she had already shewn her intention to accept the assistance of Mr. Belfield, before he had followed her with an offer of his own. She was uncer- tain, indeed, whether he had remarked what had passed; but she had reason to think that, so circumstanced, to have changed her' purpose, would have been construed info an encouragement that might have authorised his future pre- sumption of her favour. All she could find to regret, with regard to herself, was wanting the presence of mind to have refused the civilities of both. Mrs. Harrel, though really sorry at the state of the affair, regarded herself as so entirely unconcerned in it, that, easily wearied when out of company, she soon grew sleepy, and retired to her own room. The anxious Cecilia, hoping every instant the return of Mr Harrel, sat up by herself : but it was not till near four o’clock in the morning that he made his appearance. “ Well, sir,” cried she, the moment she saw' him, “ I fear by youi coming home so late you have had much trouble, but I hope it has been successful?” Great, however, was her mortification, when he answered that he had not even seen the Baronet, having been engaged himself in so particular a manner, that he could not possibly break from his party till past three o’clock, at which time he drove to the house of 5ir Robert, but heard that he was not yet come home. Cecilia, though rhuch disgusted by such a specimen of insensibility towards a man whom he pretended to call his friend, would not leave him till he had promised to arise as soon as it was light, and make an eflPort to recover the time lost. She was now no longer surprised either at the debts of Mr. Harrel, or at his particular occasions for money. She was convinced he spent half the night in gaming, and the consequences, however dreadful, were but natural. That Sir Robert Floyer also did the same, was a matter of much less importance to her ; but that the life of any man should through her means be endangered, disturbed her inex-; pressibly. CECILIA; 137 She went, however, to bed, but arose again kt six o’clock, and dressed herself by candle light. In an hour’fe time she Sent to ent^uire if Mr. Harrel was stirring, and hearing he was asleep gave orders to have him called. Yet he did not Hsetill eight o’clock, nor could all her messages or expostu- lations drive him out of the house till nine. He was scarce gone before Mr. Moncktbn arrived, who now for the fiist time had the satisfaction of finding her alone. “ You are very good for coming so early;” cried she; “ have you seen Mr. Belfield ? llave you had any conver- sation with him?” Alarmed at her eagerness, and still more at seeing by her looks the sleepless night she had passed, he made at first no reply ; and when, with increasing impatience, she repeated her question, he only said, “ Has Belfield ever visited you since he had the honour of meeting you at my house ?” “ No, never.” “Have you seen him often in public ?” “ No, I haVe never seen him at all but the evening Mrs. Harrel received masks, and last night at the opera.” “Is it then for the safety of Sir Robert you are so ex- tremely anxious ?” It is for the safety of both : the cause of their quarrel was so trifling, that I cannot bear to think its consequence should be so serious." “ But do you not wish better to one of them than to the other ?” “ As a matter of justice I do, but nbt from ariy partiality. Sir Robert was undoubtedly the aggressor, and Mr. Belfield, though at first too fiery, was certainly ill used.” The candour of this speech recovered Mr. Moncktoh from his apprehensions ; and carefully observing her looks while he spoke, he gave her the following account — ‘ That he had hastened to Belfield's lodgings the moment he had left the opera-house, and, after repeated denials, absolutely forced himself into his room, where he was quite alone, and in much agitation : he conversed with him for more than an hour upon the subject of the quarrel, but found he »o warmly resented the personal insult given him by SIv YOL. 1. S 4 CECILIA. 158 Robert, that no remonstrance had any effect in malcinghiin alter bis resolution of demanding satisfaction. “ And could you bring him to consent to no compfomist before you left him?” cried Cecilia. “ Noi for before I got to him — the challenge had bera sent.” “ The challenge ! good Heaven ! — aqd do you know the event?” “ I called again this morning at his lodgings, but he was not returned home.” “ And was it impossible to follow him ? Were there no means to discover where he was gone?” “None; to elude all pursuit, he went out before any body in the house was stirring, and took his servant with him.” “ Have you then been to Sir Robert ?” “I have been to Cavendish-sqiiare, but there, it seems, he has not appeared all night ; I traced him, through hi? servant, from the opera, to a gaming-house, where I found he had amused himself till this morning.” The uneasiness of Cecilia now encreased every momeot; and Mr. Monckton, seeing he had no other chance of satisfying her, offered his services to go again in search of both the gentlemen, and endeavour to bring Jier better infor- mation. She accepted the proposal with gratitude, and he departed. Soon after, she was joined by Mr. Arnott, who, though seized with all the horrors of jealousy at sight of her appre- hensions, was so desirous to relieve them, that without even making any merit of obliging her, he almost instantly set out upon the same errand that employed Mr. Monckton, and determined not to mention his design till he found whether it would enable him to bring her good tidings. He was scarce gone when she was told that Mr. Delvile begged to have the honour of speaking to her. Surprised this condescension, she desired he miglit immediately he admitted ; but much was her surprise augmented, when, instead of seeing hei ostentatious guardian, she again beheld her masquerade friend, the white domino. He entreated her pardon for an intrusion neither aulhP* rized by acquaintance nor by business, though somewhat, >hc hoped, palliated, by his near connection with one who wa* CECILIA. m privileged to take an interest in her affairs: and then, hastening to the motives which had occasioned his visit, “ When I had the honour,” he said, “ of seeing you last night at the opera-house, the dispute which had just hap- pened between two gentlemen, seemed fo give you an un- easiness which could not but be painful to all who observed it, and as among that number I was not the least moved, you will forgive, I hope, my eagerness to be the first to bring you intelligence that nothing fatal has happened, or is likely to happen.” “ You do me, sir,” said Cecilia, “much honour : and indeed yon relieve me from a suspense extremely disagree- able. The accommodation, I suppose, was brought about this morning ?” “I find,” answered he, smiling, “ you now expect too much ; but hope is never so elastic as when it springs from the ruins of terror.” “ What then is the matter? Are they, at last, not safe?” “Yes, perfectly safe; but I cannot tell you they have never been in danger.” “ Well, if it is now over I am contented ; but you will very much oblige me, sir, if you will inform me what has passed.” “ You oblige me, madam, by rhe honour of your com- mands. I saw but too much reason to apprehend that mea- sures the most violent would follow the affray of last night ; yet, as I found that the quarrel had been accidental, and the offence unpremeditated, I thought it not absolmely im- possible that an expeditious mediation might effect a com- promise ; at least it was worth trying: for though wrath slowly kindled or long nourished is sullen and untractable, the sudden anger that has not had time to impress the mind with a deep sense of injury, will, when gently managed, he sometimes appeased with the same quickness it is excited : I hoped, therefore, that some trifling concession from Sir Robert, as rhe aggressor, — ” “Ah, sir!” cried Cecilia, “that, I fear, was not to be obtained I” “ Not by me, I must own,” he answ^ered ; “ but I was not willing to think of the difficulty, and therefore ventured to. make the proposal : nor did X leave the opera^'house til) X s 2 ; GECILIA. 14Q had used every possible argument to persuade Sir Robert an apology would neither stain his courage nor his reputation. But his spirit brooked not the humiliation." “Spirit!" cried Cecilia, “ how mild a word, I What,, then, tiould poor Mr. BelfiLld resolve upon ?" “ That, I believe, took him very little time to decide. I discovered, by means of a gentleman at the opera, who wag acquainted with him, where he lived, and 1 waited upon him with an intention to offer my services towards settling the affair by arbitration ; for since you call him poor Mr. Belfield, I think you will permit me, without offence to his antagonist, to own that his gallantry, though too impetuous for commendation, engaged me in his interest." “ I hope you don't think," cried Cecilia, “ that an oflFence to his antagonist must necessarily be an offence to me?” “Whatever I may have thought," answered he, looking at her with evident surprise, “ I certainly did not wish that a sympathy offensive and defensive had been concluded between you. I could hot, however, gain access to Mr. Belfield last night, but the affair dwelt upon my mind, anij this morning I called at his lodgings, as soon as it was light.” “ How good you have been !" cried Cecilia ; “ your kind ^ffices have not, I hope, all proved ineffectual ?” “ So valorous a Don Quixote,” returned he, laughing, “ certainly merited a faithful Esquire ! he was, however,, gone out, and nobody knew whither. About half an hou; ago I called upon him again ; he was then just returned home/’ “Well, sir ?" “ I saw him ; the affair was over ; and in a short time lie will be able, if you will allovy him so much honour, t,o thank you for these enquiries.” “He is then wounded ?" “He is a little hurt, but Sir Robert is perfectly safe, Belfield fired first, and missed ; the Baronet was not so successless." “lam grieved to hear it, indeed! and where is the \yound?” “The ball entered his right side, and the moment he fdt it, he fired his second pistol in the air. This I heard fropi, CECILIA. 141 liis servant. He was broug^ht home carefully and slowly; no surgeon bad been upon the spot, but one was called to Jiiin immediately. I stayed to enquire his opinion after the wound had beeri dressed : he told me he had extracted the ball, and assured me Mr. Bclfield was not in any danger. Your alaim madam, last night, which had always been present to me, then encouraged me to take the liberty of waiting upon you ; for I concluded you could yet have had no certain intelligence, and thought it best to let the plain, and simple fact outrun the probable exaggeration of rumour.” Cecilia thanked him for his attention ; and Mrs Harrel then making her appearance, he arose and said, “ Had my father known the honour I have had this morning of wait-- ing upon Miss Beverley, I am sure 1 should have been charged with his compliments, and such a commission would somewhat have lessened the presumption of this visit ; but I feared lest while I should be making interest for my credentials, the pretence of my embassy might be lost, and other couriers, less scrupulous, might obtain pre- vious audiences, and anticipate my dispatches.” He then took his leave. “ This white domino, at last, then,” said Cecilia, “ is the son of Mr. Delvile ! and thence the knowledge of my situation which gave me so much surprise : — a son hpw infinitely unlike his father!” “Yes,” said Mrs, Harrel, “and as unlike his mother too, for I assure you she is more proud and haughty even than the old gentleman. I hate the very sight of her, for she keeps every body in such awe that there’s nothing but restraint in her presence. But the son is a very pretty young man, and much admired ; though I have only seen him in public, for none of the family visit here.” Mr, Monckton, who now soon returned, was not a little surprised to find that all the intelligence he meant to com- municate was already known, and not the more pleased to hear that the white domino, to whom before he owed no good-will, had thus officiously preceded him. Mr. Arnott, who also Cime just after him, had been so little satisfied with the result of his enquiries, that from the fear of encreasing the uneasiness of Cecilia, he determined 142 CECIXIA. not to make known whither he had been ; bat he jooflf found his forbearance was of iw avail, as she was already acquainted with the duel and its eotrseqhences. Yet hh m>> remitting desire to oblige her urged him twice in the cour^ of the same day to again call at Mr. Belfidd’s lodgings, in order to bring her thence fresh and unsolicited intelligehce. Before breakfast was quite over, Miss Laroiles, out of breath with eagerness, came to tell the news of the duel, in her way to churchy as it was Sunday morning ! and soon after Mrs. Hears, who also was followed by other ladies, brought the same account, which by all was addressed to Cecilia, with expressions of concern that convtnccd her, to her infinite vexation, she was generally regarded as the per- son chiefly interested in the accident. Mr. Harrd did not return- till late, but then seemed in very high spirits: “Miss Beverley,” he cried, “ I firing you news that will repay all your fright ; Sir Robert is noi only safe, but is come off cohqiieror.*’ “I am very sorry, sir,” answered Cecilia, extremely provoked to be thus congratulated, “ that any body con- quered, or any body was vanquished.” “There is no need for sorrow,” cried Mr. Harrel, *^or for any thing but joy, for he has not killed his man ; the victory, therefore, will neither Cost him a flight nor a triarb To-day he means to wait upon you, and lay his laurels at your feet.” “He means, then, to take very fruitless trouble,” said Cecilia, “ for I have not any ambition to be so honoured.” “ Ah, Miss Beverley,” returned he, laughing, “ this won't do now ; it might have passed a little whife ago, bert it won’t do now, I promise you !” Cecilia, though much displeased by this accusation, found that disclaiming it only e.xcited further raillery, and therefore prevailed upon herself to give him a quiet hearing, and scarce any reply. At dinner, when Sir Robert arrived, the dislike she had originally taken to him, encreased already into diSguSt by his behaviour the preceding evening, was now fixed into the strongest aversion by the horror she conceived of his fierce- ness, and the indignation she felt excited by his arrogance. He seemed, from the success of this duel, to think bimselC CECILIA. raised to the highest pinnacle of human glory ; triumph sat exulting on his brow ; he looked down on vvlioever he deigned to look at all, and shewed that he thought his notice an honour, however imperious the manner in which it was accorded. Upon Cecilia, however, he cast an eye of more compla- cency ; he now believed her subdued, and his vanity revelled in the belief; her anxiety had so thoroughly satis- fied him of her love, that she had hardly the power left to undeceive him ; her silence he only attributed to admira- tion, her coldness to fear, and her reserve to shame. Sickened by insolence so undisguised and unauthorised, and incensed at the triumph of his successful brutality, Cecil la with pain kept her seat, and with vexation reflected upon the necessity she was under of passing so large a por- tion of her time in company to which she was so extremely averse. After dinner, when Mrs. Barrel was talking of her party Ibr the evening, of which Cecilia declined making one, Sir Robert, with a sort of proud humility, that half feared rejection, and half proclaimed an indifference to meeting it, said, “ I don’t much care forgoing further myself, if Miss Beverley will give me the honour of taking my tea with her.” Cecilia, regarding him with much surprise, answered, that she had letters to write into the country, which would confine her to her own room for the rest of the evening. The Baronet, looking at his watch, instantly cried, “ Faith, that is very fortunate, for I have just recollected an engage- ment at the other end of the town, which had slipped my memory.” Soon after they were all gone, Cecilia received a note from Mrs. Delvile, begging the favour of her company the next morning to breakfast. She readily accepted the invita- tion, though she was by no means prepared, by the character she had iieard of her, to expect much pleasure from an ac- quaintance with that lady. 144 CECILIA. CHAPTER VI. A family FAR^Y. CECILIA the next morning, between nine and teii o'clock., went to St. James’s-square ; she found nobody im- mediately ready to receive her, but in a short time was wait- ed upon by Mr. DeLvile. After the Usual salutations, “ Miss Beverley,” he said, “ I have given express orders to my people, that I may not be interrupted while I have the pleasure of passing some minutes conversation with you, before you are presented td Mrs. Delvile.” And then, with an air of solemnity, he led her to a seat; and having himself taken possession of another, continued bis speech. “ I have received information, from authority which I cannot doubt, that the indiscretion of certain of your admirers last Saturday at the opera-house, occasioned a disturbance, which to a young woman of delicacy I should imagine must be very alarming : now as I consider myself concerned in your fame and welfaie, from regarding you as my ward, I think it is incumbent upon me to make enquiries into such of your affairs as become public ; for I should feel in some measure disgraced myself, should it appear to the world, while you are under my guardianship that there was any want of propriety in the direction of your conduct.” ^ Cecilia, not much flattered by this address, gravely answered, that she fancied the affair had been misrepresented to him. I am not much addicted,” he replied, *‘to give ear to any thing lightly ; you must, therefore permit me to enquire into the merits of the cause, and then to draw my own inferences. And let me, at the same time, assure you, there is no other young lady who has any right to expect such an attention from me. 1 must begin by begging you to inform me, upon what grounds the two gentlemen in question, for such, by courtesy, I presume they are called, thoughtihemselves entitled publicly to dispute your favour." CECILIA. 145 “My favour, sir, !” cried Cecilia, mudi amazed. “ My dear,” said he, with a complacency meant to give her couiage, “ 1 know the question is difficult for a young lady to answer ; but be not abashed, I should be sorry to distress you, and mean to the utmost of my power to save your blushes. Do not, therefore, fear me; consider me as your guardian, and assuie yourself I am perfectly well dis- posed to consider you as my wa id. Acquaint me, then, Ireely, what are the pretensions of these gentlemen?” “ To me, sir, they have, I believe, no pretensions at all.” “I see you rire shy,” returned lie, with enci easing gen- tleness ; “ I see you cannot be easy vvidi me ; and when 1 consider how little you are accustomed to me, I do not wonder. But pray take courage ; I think it necessary to inform myself of your affairs, and therefore I beg you will speak to me with freedom.” Cecilia, 'more and more mortified by this humiliating condescension, again assured him he had been misinformed ; and was again, though discredited, p ai^ed for her modesty ; when to her gieat relief, they were inteiiupted by the en- trance of htr friend the while domino. “Mortimer,” said Mr Deivile, “I understand you have already had the pleasure of scting this young lady ” “ Yes, sit ,” he answered ; “I have more ih.n once had that happiness, but I have never h .d the honour of being introduced to her.” “ Miss Bevel ley. then,” said the father, “ I must present to you Mr. Mortimer Deivile, my son ; and, Mortimer, in Miss Beveiley I desire you will remember that you respect a ward of your father's.” “I will not, sir,” answered lie, “foiget an injunction my own inclinations had aiieady out-iun.” Mortimer Deivile was tall and hneiy formed ; his fea- tures, though not handsome, weic foil of expression; and a noble openness of manners and add ess spoke the elegance of his education, and the libeiality of his mind. When this introduction was over, a moic general con- versation took place, till Mr. Deivile, suddenly rising, said to Cecilia, “You will pardon me, Miss Beverley, if 1 leave you for a few minutes ; one of my tenants sets out to- morrow morning for my estate in the North, and he ha'. voL. I. X 4 146 CECILIA* been two hours waiting to speak with me. But if my sort is not particularly engaged, I am sure he will be so good as to do the honours of the house till his mother is ready tq receive you." And then, giaciously waving his hand, he quitted the room. “My father," cried young Dclvile, “has left me an office; which, could I execute it as perfectly as I shall wil- lingly, would be performed w^hout a fault." “ I am very sorry," said Cecilia, “that I have so much mistaken your hour of breakfast ; but let me not be any restraint upon you ; I shall find a book, or a newspaper, or something to fill up the time till Mrs. Delvile honours me with a summons.” ‘‘You can only be a restraint upon me,” answered he, “by commanding me from your presence. I breakfasted long ago, and am now just come from Mr. Belfield. I had the pleasure, this morning, of being admitted into his room. “ And how, sir, did you find him?" “ Not so well, I fear, as he thinks himself; but he was in high spirits, and surrounded by his friends, whom he was entertaining with all the gaiety of a man in full health, and entirely at his case ; though I perceived by the frequent changes of his countenance, signs of pain and indisposition, that made me, however pleased with hrs conversation, think it necessary to shorten my own visit, ^ind to hint to those who were ru' r me the propriety of leaving him quiet. “ Did you see his surgeon, sir ?" “ No ; but he toid me he should only have one'drcssiiig mote of his wound, and then get rid of the whole business by running into the country." “ Were you acquainted with him, sir, before this accident ?" “No, not at all; but the little I have seen of him has strongly interested me in his favour At Mr. Harrel’s masquerade, where 1 first met with Jiim, I was exueinely entertained by his humour,— though there, perhaps as I had also the honour of first seeing Miss Beverley, J might be too happy to feel much difficulty in being pleased. And even at tlie opera he had the advantage of finding me in the same CECILIA. 147 favourable disposition, as I had long distinguished you before I had taken any notice of him. I must, howevei , Confess I did not think his anger that evening quite without provocation ; — but 1 beg your pardon, I may peihaps be mistaken, and you who know the whole affair, must un- doubtedly be better able to account for what happened.” Here he fixed his eyes upon Cecilia, with a look of curi- osity that seemed eager to penetrate into her sentiments of the two antagonists. “ No, certainly,” she answered ; “he had all the provo- cation that ill-breeding could give him.” “ And do you, madam,” cried he, with much surprise, “judge of this matter with such severity ?” “ No, not with severity ; simply with candour,” “ With condour? Alas, then, poor Sir Robert ! Severity were not half so bad a sign for him !” A servant now came in, to acquaint Cecilia that Mrs. Dclvile waited breakfast for her. This summons was vimmediately followed by the re- cntrance of Mr. Dclvile, who taking her hand, said, lie would himself present her to his lady, and with much gra- ciousness assured her of a kind reception. The ceremonies preceding this interview, added to the character she had already heard of Mrs. Delvile, made Cecilia heartily wish it over ; but, assuming all the courage in her power, she determined to support herself with a spi- rit that should struggle against the ostentatious superiority she was prepared to expect. She found her seated upon a sofa, from which, however, she arose at her approach ; but the moment Ce. ilia beheld her, all the unfavourable impressions with which she came into her presence immediately vanished, and that respect which the formalities of her introduction had failed to inspire, her air, figure, and countenance instantaneously excited. She was not more than fifty years of age ; her complexion, though faded, kept the traces of her former loveliness ; her eyes, though they had lost their youthful fiie, retained a lustre that evinced their primeval brilliancy ; and the fine symmetry of her features, still uninjured by the siege of time, not only indicated the perfection of her T 2 14S CECILIA. juvenile beauty, but still laid claim to admiration in every beholder. Her Carriage was lofty and commanding; but the dignity to which high birth and conscious supcrioriiy gave rise, was so judiciously regulated by good sense, and so happily blend- ed with [Jbliteness, that though the world at large envied or hated her, the few for whom she had herself any regard, she was infallibly certain to captivate. The surprise and admiration with which Cecilia at the fiist glance was struck., proved reciprocal : Mrs. Dclvile, though prepared for youth and beauty, expected not to see a countenance so intelligent, nor manners so well formed as those of Cecilia: thus mutually astonished, and mutually pleased, their first salutations were accompanied by looks so flattering to both, that each saw in the other an immediate prepossession in her favour ; and from the moment that they met, they seemed instinctively inipeiUd to admire. “ I have promised Miss Beverley, madam,” said Mr. Dclvile to his lady, “that you would give her a kind recep- tion ; and I need not remind you that my premises arc always held sacred.” “But 1 hope you have not also promised,” cried she, with quickness, “that I should yon a kind reception, for I feel at this very moment extremely inclined to quarrel with you.” “ Why so, madam?” “ For not bringing us together sooner; for now I have seen her, I already look back wiih regret to the time I have lost without the pleasure of knowing her.” “What a claim is iliis,” cried young Delvile, “upon tlie benevolence of Miss Beverley !,>for if she has not now the indulgence by frequent and diligent visits to make some reparation, she must consider herself as responsible for the dissention she will occasion.” “ If peace depends upon my visits, “answered Cecilia, “it may be immediately proclaimed; were it to be pro- cured only by my absence, I know not if I should so readily agree to the conditions.” “ I must request of you, madam,” said Mr. Delvile, “that when my son and I retire, you will bestow half an hour upon this young Udy, in making enquiries concerning CECILIA. 149 the disturbance last Saturday at the opera-house.- I have not, myself, so much time to spare, as I have several appointments for this morning ; but I am suie you will not object to the office, as I know you to be equally anxious with myself, that the minority of Miss Beverley should pass without reproach.” “ Not only her minority, but her maturity,” cried young D<.lvile, waimly; “and not only her maturity, but her detlineoflife will pass, I hope, not merely without repioach, but with fame and applause !” “ I hope so too,” ret lied Mr. Delvile;“ I wish her well through every stage of hei life : but for her minority alone, it is my business to do more than wisli. F(m that, 1 feel my own honour and my own ( leclit concerned ; my honour 9S I gave it to the Dean that 1 would superintend her con- duct ; and my ciedit, as the world is acquainted with the claim she has to my protection ” “I will not make any enquiries,” said Mrs Dcivile, turning to Cecilia, with a sweetness that recompen^ed her for the haughtiness of her guardian, “ till I have had some opportunity of convincing Miss Beverley, that my regard for her merits they should be answered.” “ You see, Miss Beverley,” saia M' Delvile, “how little reason you had to be afraid of us ; Mis. Delvile is as much disposed in your favour as myself, and as desirous to be of service to you. Endeavour, therefore, to cast off this timi- dity, and to make yourself easy. You must come to us often; use will do more towards removing your feais, than all the encouragement we can give you.” “ But what are the fears,” cried Mrs. Delvile, “that Miss Beverley can have to remove? unless, indeed, she ap- prehends her visits will make us encroacheis, and that the more we are favoured with her presence, the less we shall bear her absence.” “Pray, son,” said Mr. Delvile, “what was the name of the person who was Sir Robert Floycr's opponent? 1 have again forgot it." “ Belfield, sir.” “True: it is a name I am perfectly unacquainted with : however, he may possibly be a very good son of man ; but certainly his opposing himself to Sir Robert Floyer, a man of CECILIA. 150 some family, a gentleman, rich, and allied to some people of distinction, was rather a strange circumstance. 1 mean not, however, to prejudge the case ; I will hear it fairly stated ; and 1 am the more disposed to be cautious in what 1 pronounce, because 1 am persuaded Miss Beverley has too much sense to let my advice be thrown away upon her." “ I hope so, sir; but with respect to the disturbance at the opera, I know not that I have the least occasion to trou- ble you.” “ If your measures,” said he, very gravely, “ are already taken, the Dean, your uncle, prevailed upon me to accept a very useless office ; but if any thing is yet undecided, it will not, perhaps, be amiss that 1 should be consulted. Mean- time I will only recommend to you to consider, that Mr. Belheld is a person whose name nobody has heard, and that a connection with Sir Robert Fl:»yer would certainly be Very honourable for you.” “ Indeed, sir,” said Cecilia, here is some great mistake; neither of these gentlemen, I believe, think of me at all.” “They have taken, then,” Ciied young Delvile, w'ith a laugh, “a very extraordinary method to prove their in- difference !” “ The affaiis of Sir Robert Floyer,” continued Mr. Del- vlle, ‘‘ are indeed, 1 am informed, in some disojder ; but he has a noble estate, and your fortune w< uid soon clear all its incumbrances : such an alliance, therefore, would be mutually advantageous. But what would result from a union with such a person as Mr. Belfield ? He is of no family, though iii that, perhaps, you would not be very scrupulous; but neither has he any money; what, then, recommends him ?” “To me, sir, nothing!” answered Cecilia. “And to me,” cried young Delvile, “ almost every thing! He has wit, spirit, and understanding ; talents to create admiration ; and qualities, I believe, to engage esteem !” “ You speak warmly,” said Mrs. Delvile ; “but if such is his character, he merits your earnestness. What is it you know of him?” “ Not enough, perhaps,” answered he, “ to coolly justify my praise ; but he is one of those whose first -appearaiKic CECILIA. 151 fakes the mind by surprise, and leaves the judgment to make after^aKi' such terms as it can. Will you, madam, when he is le overed, permit me to introduce him to you ?” “ Cei talnly,” Slid she, sn.iling ; “buthavea care your recommendation does not disgtace your disceinment." “This warmth of disposition, Mortimer,” cried Mr, Delvile, “ produces nothing but difficudiesand trouble: you negiect the connections I point out, and which a little atten- tion might rendei set viceabieas well as honouiable, and lun precipiiatJy in to forming such as tan do you no good among people of rank, and are not only profitless in themselves, but generally lead vou into expense and inconvenience. You are now of an age to cortect this rashness : think, therefore, beite: of your own < on sequence, than thus idly to degrade yourself by forming friendship with every shewy adventurer that comes in your way.” “ I know not, sir,” answered he, “ how Mr. Belficld deserves to be called an adventurer; he is not, indeed, rich, but he is in a profession where parts such as his seldom fail to acquire riches ; however, as to me his wealth can be of no consequence, why should my regard to him wait for it? if he is a -ouiig man of worth and honour ” “Mortimer,” interrupted Mr. Delvile, “whatever he is, we know he is not a man of rank ; and whatever he may be, we know he cannot become a man of family, and consequently for Mortimer Drlvile he is no companion. If you can render him any service I shall commend your so doing ; it becomes your birth, it betomes your station in life to assist individuals, and promote the general good ; but never in your zeal for others forget what is due to yourself, and to the ancient and honourable house from whence you are sprung,” “ But can we entertain Miss Beverley with nothing belter than family lectures?” cried Mrs. Delvile. “ It is for me,” >aid young Delvile, rising, “ to beg par- don of Miss Beverley for having occasioned them : but when she. is so good as to honour us with hei company again, i hope I shall have more discretion.” He then left the room ; and Mr. Delvile also rising to go, said, “My dear, I commit you to very good hands : 152 CECILIA. Mrs. Delvile, I am sure, will be happy to hear your story; speak to her, therefore, without reserve. And pray don’t imagine that I make you over to her from any slight; on the contrary, I admiie and commend your modesty very much ; but my time is extremely precious, and I can- not devote so much of it to an explanation as your diffidencti requires.” And then, to the great joy of Cecilia, he retired ; leaving her much in doubt whether his haughtiness or his con- descension humb ed In r most. “These men,’ said Mrs. Delvile “can never compre- hend the pain of a delicate female mind, upon enteiinginto explanations of this snt; I understand it, however, too well to intlict it. We will, therefore, have no explanations at all till we aie be tter acquainted ; and then, if you will venture to favour me with any confidence, my best advice, and, should any be in my power, my best services shall be at your command.” “You do me, madam, much honour,” answered Cecilia; “but fmust assure you I have no explanation to give ” “Well, well, at present,” returned Mrs. Delvile, “I am content to hear that answer, as 1 have acquired no right to any other ; but liereafter 1 shall hope for more openness: itispiomi cd me by your countenance, and I mean to claim the promise by my fiiendship.” “ Your friendship will both honour and delight me, and whatever are ytjur enquiries, I shall be always proud to answer them ; but indeed with regard to this affair ” “ My dear Miss Beverley,” intenupted Mrs. Delvile, with a .ook of aich incredulity, “ men seldom risk their lives where an escape is witheut hope of recompense. But we will not now say a word more upon the subject. I hope you will often favour me with your company, and by the frequcni y of your visits, make us both forget the shortness of our acquaintance.” Ctcina, finding her resistance only gave birth to fresh suspicion, now yielded, satisfied that a very little time niust unavoidably clear up the truth. But her visit was not therefoie shortened ; the suuden pirtiaiiiy with which the figure and countenance of Mrs. Delvile had impressed hei) CECILIA. 153 was quickly ripened into esteem by the charms of her con- versation : she found her sensible, well,bred, and high- spirited, gifted by nature with superior talents, and polished by education and study, with ail the elegant embellishments of cultivation. She saw in her, indeed, some portion of the pride she had been taught to expect ; but it was so much softened by elegance, and so well tempered with kind- ness, that it elevated her character without rendering her manners offensive. With such a woman, subjects of discourse could never be wanting, nor fertility of powers to make them entertain- ing : and so much was Cecilia delighted with her visit, that though her carriage was announced at. twelve o'clock, she reluctantly concluded it at two ; and in taking her leave, gladly accepted an invitation to dine with her new fiicnd three days alter; who, equally pleased with her youn? guest, promised befoie that lime to return her visit. CHAPTER VII. AN examination. CECILIA found Mrs. Harrel eagerly waiting to hear some account how siie had passed the morning, and fully persuaded that she would leave the Delviies with a deter- mination never m;re, but by necessity, to see them ; she was, therefore, not only suipnsed, but disappointed, when, instead of fulli ling her expectations, she assured her that she had been delighted with Mis. Delvile, whose engaging qualities arnp.y reLompensed her for the arrogance of her husband ; that hei visit had no fault but that of being too short ; atid that she had already appointed an early day for repeating it. Mrs. Harrel was evidently hurt by this praise ; and Cecilia, who perceived among all her guardians a poweilul disposition to haired and jealousy, soon dropt the subject ; though so much had she been charmed with M s. f>eivi;e, that a Scheme of removal once more occui ted to her, not- withstanding her dislike of her stately guaidian. At dinner, as usual, they were joined by Sir Robert VOL, I. U 4 154 CECILIA. Floyer, who grew more and more assiduous in his attend- ance, but who, this day, contrary to his general custom of remaining with the gentlemen, made his exit before the ladies left the table ; and as soon as he was gone, Mr. Harrel desired a private conference with Cecilia. They went together to the drawing-room, where, after a flouiishing preface upon the meiitsof Sir Robert Floyer, he formally quainted her that he was commissioned by that gentleman to make her a tender of his hand and fortune. Cecilia, who had not much reason to be surprised at this overture, desired him to tell the Baronet, she was obliged to him for the honour he intended her, at the same time that she absolutely declined receiving it. Mr. Harrel, laughing, told her this answer was very well for a beginning, though it would by no means serve beyond the first day of the declaration ; but when Cecilia assured him she would firmly adhere to it, he remonstrated with equal surprise and discontent upon the reasons of her refusal. She thought it sufficient to tell him that Sir Robert did not pleaseher ; but, with much raillery, he denied the assertion credit, assurin- her that he was universally admired by the ladies, that she could not possibly receive a more honour- able offer, and that he was reckoned by every body the finest gentleman about the town. His fortune, he added, was equally unexceptionable with his figure and his rankin life ; all the world, he was certain, would approve the con- nection, and the settlement made upon her should be dic- tated by herself. ’Cecilia begged him to be satisfied with an answer which she never could change and to spare her the enumeration of particular objections, since Sir Robert was wholiy, and in every respect, disagreeable to her, “ What then,” cried he, “could make you so frightened for him at the opera-house? There has been but one opinion about town ever since of your prepossession in his ^favour.*’ I am extremely concerned to hear it ; my fright was but the eflPer t of surprise, and belonged not more to hit Robert than to Mr Belfield.” He told her that nobody else thought the same ; that her CECILIA. ns marriage with the Baronet was universally expected ; and, in conclusion, notwithstanding her earnest desire that he would instantly and explicitly inform Sir Robert of her determination, he repeatedly refused to give him any final answer, till she had taken more time for consideration. Cecilia was extremely displeased at this irksome impor- tunity, and still more chagrined to find her incautious emo- tion at the opera-house, had given rise to suspicions of her harbouring a partiality for a man whom everyday she more heartily disliked. While she was deliberating in what manner she could clear up this mistake, which after she was left alone occu- pied all her thoughts, she was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Monckton, whose joy in meeting her at length by her- self exceeded not her own ; for, charmed as he was that he could novy e.xamine into the state of her affairs, she was. not less delighted that she could make them known to him. After mutual expressions, guarded, however, on the part of Mr. Monckton, though unreserved on that of Cecilia, of their satisfaction in being again able to converse as in former times, he asked if she would permit him, as the privilege of their long acquaintance, to speak to her with sincerity. She assured him he could not more oblige her. “Let me then," said he, “ enquire if yet that ardent con- fidence in your own steadiness, which so much disdained my fears that the change of your residence might produce a change in your sentiments, is still as unshaken as when we parted in Suffolk ? or whether experience, that foe to unpractised refinement, has already taught you the fallibility of theory ?" “ When I assure you,” replied Cecilia, “that your en- quiry gives me no pain, I think I have sufficiently answer- ed it; for were I conscious of any alteration, it could not but embarrass and distress me. Very far, however, from finding myself in the danger with which you threatened me, of forgetting Bury^ its inhabitants, and its environs, I think with pleasure of little else, since London, instead of bewitch- ing, has greatly disappointed me." “How so?" cried Mr. Monckton, much delighted. 156 CECILIA. Not, "answered she, *‘in itself, nnr in itsmagnificehcef nor in its diversions, which seem to be inexhaustible ; but these, though copious as instruments of pleasure, are Very shallow as sources of happiness : the disappointment, there- fore, comes nearer home, and springs not from London, but from my own situation." ‘‘ Is that, then, disagreeable to you ?" ‘‘You shall yourself judge, when I have told you thjt from the time of my quitting your house till this very mo. ment, when I have again the happiness of talking with you, I have never once had any conversation, society, or inter- coiirse, in which friendship or affection. have had any share, or my mind has had the least interest,” She then entered into a detail of her way of life, told him how little suited to her taste was the unbounded dissipation of the Harrels, and feelingly expatiated upon the disappoint- ment she had received from the alteration in the manners and conduct of her young friend. “ In her, she continued, “ had I found the companion 1 came prepared to meet, the companion from whom I had so lately parted, and in whose society I expected to find consolation for the loss of yours and of Mrs. Charlton's, I should have complained of nothing ; the very places that now tire, might then have entertained me ; and all that passes for unmeaning dissipa- tion, might have worn the appearance of variety and plea- sure. But where the mind is wholly without interest, every thing is languid and insipid ; and accustomed as I have long been to think friendship the first of human blessings, and social converse the greatest of human enjoyments, how- ever can I reconcile myself to a state of careless indiflPerence, to making acquaintance without any concern either for prr serving or esteeming them, and to going on from day today in an eager search of amusement, with no companion for the hours of retirement, and no view beyond that of passing the present moment in apparent gaiety and thoughtlessness!" Mr. Monckton, Who heard these complaints with secret rapture, far from seeking to soften or remove, used his ut- most endeavours to strengthen and cncrease them , by art- fully retracing her former way of life, and pointing'Oiit with added censures the change in it she had been lately CECILIA, 157 compelled to make: “a change,” he continued, “which though ruinous of your time, and detrimental to your happiness, use will, I fear, familiarise, and familiarity ren- der pleasant.” “These suspicions, sir,” said Cecilia, “mortify me greatly ; and why. when far fiom finding me pleased, you hear nothing but repining, should you still continue to har- bour them ?” “ Because your trial has yet been too short to prove your firmness, and because there is nothing to which time can- not contentedly accustom us.” “ I feel not mut h fear,” said Cecilia, “of standing such a test as might luliy saiisfy you ; but nevertheless. nf>t to be too presumptuous, I have by no means exposed myself to all the dangers which you thiiik sui round me, for of late J have spent almost every evening at home, and by myself” This intelligence was to Mr Monclcton a surprise the most agreeable he could teceive Her distaste for the amusements which were offeied her, greatly rtlieved his fears of her forming any aiarmitig connection ; and the discovery that vvhile so anxiously he had sought her tvery wherein public, she had quietly passed her time by her own riie-side, not only re-assured him for the piesent, but gave him information where he might meet with her in future. He then talked of the duel, and solicitously led her to speak openly of Sir Robert Fioyer : and here, too, his satis- faction was entire ; he found her dislike of him such as his knowledge of her disposition made him expect ; and she whollyrcmoved hisjsuspicions concerning her anxi'-ty about the quart el, by explaining to him her appiehensions of hav- ing occasioned it herself. Neither did her confidence rest here ; she acquainted him with the conversation she had just had with Mr. Barrel, and begged his advice in what manner she might secure herself from further importunity. Mr. Monckton had now a new subject for his discern- ment. Every thing had confirmed to him the passion which Mr. Arnott had conceived for Cecilia, and he had therefore concluded the interest of the Harrels would be all CECILIA. 158 in his favour : Other ideas now struck him ; he fotJrtd that' Mr. Arnott was given up for Sir Robert; and he deter- mined carefully to watch the motions both of the Baronet and her young guardian, in older to discover the nature of their plans and connections. Mean time, convinced by her unaffected aversion to the proposals she had received, that she was at present in no danger from the league he sus- pected, he merely advised her to persevere in manifesting a' calm repugnance to their solicitations, which could not fail, before long, to dishearten them both. “But, sir,” cried Cecilia, “I now fear this man as much as I dislike him, for his late fierceness and brutality, though they have encreascd my disgust, make me diead to shew it. I am impatient, therefore, to ha\^e done with him, lind to see him no more And for this purpose, 1 wish to quit the house of Mr. HarreJ, where he has access at his pleasure.” ‘‘You can wish nothing more judiciously,” cried he; “ would you, then, return into the country ?" “That is not' yet in my powt'r ; I am obliged to reside with pne of my guaidians. To-day I have seen Mrs. Delvile, and — ” “ Mrs. Delvile?” interrupted Mr. Monckton, in a voice of astonishment : “ Suiely you do not think of removing in- to that family ?” “ What can I do so well? Mrs Delvile is a charming woman, and her conversation would afford me more enter- tainment and instruction in a sing'e day, than under this ropf I should obtain in a twelvemonth.” “ Are you serious ? Do you really think of making such a change?” “ I really wish it, but I know not yet if it is practicable; on Thursday, however, J am to dine with her, and then, if it is in my power, 1 will hint to her my desi*e.” “ And can Miss Beverley possibly wish,” cried Mr. Monckton with earnestness, “ to reside in such a house? Is not Mr. Delvile the most ostentatious, haughty, and self-sufficient of men ? Is not his wife the proudest of women ? And is not the whole family odious to all thfr world ?” “ You amaze me !” cried Cecilia ; “surely that cannot be CECILIA. 159 their general character? Mr. Delvile, indeed, deserves all the censure he can meet for his wearisome parade of superiority ; but his Lady by no means merits to be included in the same reproach. I have spent this whole morning with her, a^id though I waited upon her with a strong prejudice in her disfavour, I observed in her no pride that exceeded the bounds of propriety and native dignity.” “Have you often been at the house ? Do you know the son too?” “ I have seen him three or four times.” ** And what do you think of him ?” “ I hardly know enough of him to judge fairly.” “ But what does he seem to you ? Do you not perceive in him already all the arrogance, all the contemptuous inso- fence of his father?” “ O no! far from it indeed ; his mind seems to be liberal and noble, open to impressions of merit, and eager to honour and promote it.” “You are much deceived: you have been reading your own mind, and thought you had read his ; I would advise you sedulously to avoid the whole family ; you will find all intercourse with them irksome and comfortless : such as the father appears at once, the wife and the son will, in a few moie meetings, appear also. They are descended fiom the same .stock, and inherit the same self-complacency. Mt. Delvile married his cousin, and each of them instigates the other to believe that all buth and rank would be at an end in the world, if their own supeib family had not a promise of support from their hopeful Mortimer. Should you piecipitateiy settle youiself in their house, you would very soon be totally weighed down by their united insolence.” Cecilia again and warmly attempted to defend them ; but Mi Monckton was so positive in his assertions, and so sig- nificant in hiS insinuations to their discredit, that she was at length persuaded she had judged too hastily, and, after lhankitjg him for his counsel, promised not to take any mea- sures towaids a removal ^Mthout his advice. This was ail he dcsiied ; and now, enlivened by finding that his influence with her was unimpaired, and that her 160 CECILIA. heart was yet her own, he ceased his exhortations, and turned the discourse to subjects more gay and general, judiciously cautious neither by tedious admonitions to disgust, nor by fictful solicitude tp alarm her. He did net quit her till the evening was fdr advanced, and then, in returning to his own house, felt all his anxieties and disappointments recompensed by the comfort this long and satisfactory conversation Iiad afforded him. While Cecilia, charmed with having spent the morning with her new ac- quaintance, and the evening with her oid fiiend, retiied to rest better pleased with the disposal of her time than she had yet been since her journey from Suffolk. CHAPTER VIII. A TETE-A-TETE. The two following days had neither event nor distur- bance, except some little vexation occasioned by the behaviour of Sir Robert Fioyer, who still appeared not t» enteitain any doubt of the success of his addresses, This impertinent confidence she could only attribute to the officious encouragement of Mr. Harrel, and therefore she determined rather to seek than to avoid an explanation with him. But sbe had, in the mean time, the satisfaction of hearing from Mr. Arnotr, who, ever eager to oblige her, was frequent in his enquiiies, that Mr. Beiheld was almost entirely recovered. On Thursday, according to her appointment, she again went to St. James’s-square, and being shewn into the drawing-room till dinner was ready, found there only young Mr. Delvile. After some general conversation, he asked her how lately she had any news of Mr. Beffield ? “ I his morning,” she answered, “ when I had the plea- sure of heaiing he was quite lecovereu. Have you seen him again, sir ?” “ Yts, madam, twice.” “And did you think him almost well ?” CECILIA. 161 ** I thought,” answered he, with some hesitation, *^and I think still, that your enquiries ought to be his cure.” *‘0,” cried Cecilia, “ I hope he has far better medi- cines : but I am afraid I have been misinformed, for 1 see you do not think him better.” “ You must not, however,” replied he, blame those messengers whose artifice has only had your satisfaction in view ; nor should 1 be so malignant as to blast their de- signs, if I did not fear that Mr. Belfield’s actual safety may be endangered by your continued deception.” “What deception, sir ? I don’t at all understand you. How is his safety endangered ?’’ “ Ah, madam !” said he smiling, “what danger in- deed is there that any man would not risk to give birth to such solicitude! Mr. Bel field, however, 1 believe is in none from which a command of yours cannot rescue him.” “ Then were I an hard-hearted damsel indeed not to issue it I but if my commands are so medicinal, pray instruct me how to administer them.” “ You must order him to give up, for the present, his plan of going into the country, where he can have no assistance, and where his wound must be dressed only by a common servant, and to remain quietly in town, till his surgeon pronounces that he may travel without any hazard.” “ But is he, seriously, so mad as to intend leaving town without the consent of his surgeon?” “Nothing less than such an intention could have in- duced me to undeceive you with respect to his recovery. But indeed 1 am no friend to those artifices \'^hich pur- chase present relief by future misery : I venture therefore, to speak to you the simple truth, that by a timely exer- tion of your influence you may prevent further evil.” “ I know not, sir,” said Cecilia with the utmost sur- prize, “why you should suppose I have any such influ- ence ; nor can I imagine that any deception has been practised.” “Is it possible ?” answered he ; “I may have been too much alarmed ; but in such a case as this, no informa- tion ought to be depended upon but that of his sur- geon, You, madam, may probably know his opinion ?’ * VOL. I, X 5 162 CECILIA. “Me?— No, indeed! I never saw his sur^geon; I know not even who be ^s.” “I j[)urpose calling upon him to-nnorrow morning* will Miss Beverley permit me afterwards the honour of communicating to her what may pass ?” “I thank you^ sir,” said she, colouring very bigb> ‘%ut my impatience is by no means gi^at as to occasion giving you that trouble.” Delvile, perceiving her cbange;of countenance, instant* ly, and with much respect, entreated her pardon for tlie proposal : which, however, she had no sooner granted than he said very archly, “ Why indeed you have not much right to be angry, since it was yonr own frankness that e^cifed mine. And thus, you hod, like most other culprits, I am ready to cast the blame of the otfeuce npon the offended. 1 feel however an irresistible pro- pensijty to do service to Mr. Belfield ! — shall I sin quite beyond forgiveness if I venture to tell you how I found him situated this morning?” “No certainly— if you wish it, I can have no objection.” “i found him, then, surrounded by a set of gay youdg men, who, by way of keeping up bis spirits, made him laugh and talk without ceasing: he assured me himself fhat he was perfectly well, and intended to gallop QMt uf town to-morrow nriorning; though, when! shook hands with him at parting, I was both shocked and alarmed to feel, by the beating heat of bis skin, that, far frooi dist carding his surgeon, he ougbtrather tocall in a physician.” “ I am very much concerned to hear this account,” said Cecilia ; “ hut I do not well understand what you mean siiould on my part follow it?” “ That,” answered he, bowing, with a look of mock gravity, “ 1 pretend not to settle ! In stating the easel have satisfied my conscience ; and if in hearing ipyou can paidpn the liberty I have taken, I shall as much honour the openness of your character, as I admire that of your countenance.” Cecilia now, to her no little astonishment, found she had the same mistake to clear up at present concerning Mr. Belfieid, that only three days before she had. ex- plained with respect to the baronet. But she had CEGILIA. 163 time to speak further upon the subject, as the eritrance of Mrs. Delvile put an end to' their discourse. That lady received her with the most distinguishing kindness ; apologized for not sooner waiting upon her, and repeatedly declared, that nothing but indisposition should have prevented her returning the favour of her first visit. They were soon afterwards summoned to dinner. Mr. Delvile, to the infinite joy of Cecilia, was out. The day was spent greatly to her satisfaction. There was no interruption from visitors, she was tormented by the discussion of no disagreeable subjects, the duel was not mentioned, the antagonists were not hinted at, she was teased with no self-sufficient encouragement, and wearied with no mortifying affability ; the conversation at once was lively and rational, and though general, was rendered interesting, by a reciprocation of good-will and pleasure in the conversers. The tavourable opinion she had conceived both of the mother and the son, this long visit served to confirm : in Mrs. Delvile she found strong sense, quick parts, and high breeding ; in M\/riimer, sincerity and vivacity joined with softness and elegance; and in both there seemed the most liberal admiration of talents, with an ppenness of heart that ('isdained all disguise. Greatly pleased with their manners, and struck with all that was apparent in their characters, she much regretted the pre- judice of Mr. Monckton, which now, with the promise she had given him, was all that opposed her making an immediate effort towards a change in her abode. She did not take her leave till eleven o’clock ; when Mrs. Delvile, after repeatedly thanking her for her visit, said she would not so much encroach upon her good-na- ture as to request another till she had waited upon her in return ; but added, that she meant very speedily to pay that debt, in order to enable herself, by frindly and fre- quent meetings, to enter upon the confidential commis- sion with which her guardian had entrusted her. Cecilia was pleased with the delicacy which gave rise to this forbearance ; yet having in fact nothing either to re- late or concealj she was rather sorry than glad at the de- 166 CECILIA. s^fqqgly opposed lit* bi?t Mr. Harrel seemed rather to prefer it, ypt spokeiAO confidently of his speedy pay mentj he appeared to think it a matter of little importanee ffpm which he accepted it. A generous contest ensued between Mr. Arnott and Cecilia ; but as she was very earnest, she at length prevailed, and settled to go herself thejnext morning. into, the city, in order to have the mo- ney, adva-nced by Mf* Briggs, who had the managementt of .her fortune entirely tO| himself, her other guardidhs never interfering in the executive part of her affairs. Thus arranged, they all retired. And then with increasing astonishment, Cecilia reflect- ed upon the ruinpus levity of Mr. Harrel* and the blind security of his wife ; she saw in their situation danger the most alarming, and in the behaviour of Mr. Harrel sel- fishness the most inexcusable ; such glaring injustice to bis creditory, such utter insensibility to his friends, took from her all wish Of assusiing him, though the indignant compassion with which she saw.the easy generosky of Mr. Arnptt so frequently abused, had now, for hip sake merely, induced her to relieve- him. She;resolyed, however, as soon as the present difficul- ty; was surmounted,* to make another attempt to open the eyes of Mrs. Harrel to the evils which so apparently, threatened her, and press her to exert all her influence with her husband, by means both of example and lad- viqe, to retrench his expences, before it should be-abso- lutaly too late to save him from ruin. She determined also, at the same time that she ap- plied lor the money requisite for this debt, to take up eqough for discharging her own, bill at the ^ bookseller’s, and putting in execution her plan of assisting the Hills. The , next morning she arose early, and, attended, by her servant, set out for the house of Mr. Briggs purpos- ing, as tbejWeather was clear and frosty, to .walk through Oxfordroad, and then put herself into a chair, and hopiwg tq return to Mr. Harrel’s by the usual hour of breakfast. She had not proceeded far, before she; sa\v> a mob gathering and the windows of almost all the houses iUling with spectators. She desired her . servant, to enquiie what this meant, and, was. inf(ftmed.that the people weds CECILIA. 1«7 assembling tolfsee some malefactors pass by in their way to Tyburn. Alarmed at this intelligence from the fear of meeting the unhappy criminals, she hastily turned down the next street, but found that also hlling with people, who were rupning to the scene she was trying to avoid : en- circuled thus every way, she applied to a maid servant who was standing at the door of a large house, and begged leave to step in till the mob was gone by. The maid immediately consented, and she waited here while she sent her man for a chair. He soon arrived with one ; but just as she returned to the street door, a gentleman, who was hastily enter- ing the house, standing back to let her pass, suddenly exclaimed, “ Miss Beverley !” and looking at him she perceived young Delvile. “I cannot stop an instant,” cried she, running down the steps, “ lest the crowd should prevent the chair from going on.” “Will you not first,” said he, handing her in, “ tell me what news you have heard ?” “News!” repeated she, “No, I have heard none.” “ You will only, then, laugh at me for those ofiicious offers you did so well to reject.” “ 1 know not what offers you mean I” ‘‘They were indeed superfluous, and therefore I won- der not you have forgotten them. Shall I tell the chairmen whither to go ?” “To Mr. Briggs. But 1 cannot imagine what you mean.” “ To Mr. Briggs !” repeated he ; “O live for ever French beads and Bristol stones I fresh offers may perhaps be made there, impertinent, officious, and use- less as mine !” He then told her servant the direction, and, making bis bow, went into the house she had just quitted. Cecilia, extremely amazed by this short but unintelli- gible conversation, would again have called upon him to explain his meaning, but found the croud increasing so fast, that she could not venture to detain the chair, which with difficulty made its way to the adjoining streets ; but her surprise at what had passed so entirely occupied her, 168 CTCILIA. that when she stopt at the bouse of Mr. Briggs, she had almost forgotten what had brought her thither. The foot boy, who came to the door, told her that his master was at home, but not well. She desired he might be acquainted that she wished to speak to him upon business, and would wait upon him again at any hour when he thought he should be able to see her. The boy returned with an answer that she might call again the next week. Cecilia, knowing that so long a delay would destroy all the kindness of her intention, determined to write to him for the money, and therefore went into the par* lour, and desired to have pen and ink. The boy alter making her wait some time in a room with- out any fire brought her a pen and a little ink in a broket^ lea cup, saying, “Mester begs you won't spirt it about for he’s got no more ; and all our blacking’s as good as gone.” ‘‘Blacking ?” replied Cecilia ! “ Yes, miss : when master’s shoes are blacked, we commonly gets a little drap of fresh ink,'^ Cecilia promised to be careful, but desired him to, fetch her a sheet of paper. “Law, miss,” cried the boy with a grin, “ I dare say master’d as soon give you a bit of his nose ! howsever I’ll go ax.” In a few minutes he again returned, and brought in his hand a slate and a pencil : “Miss,” cried he, “Master says bow you may write upon this, for he sup- poses you’ve no great matters to sav.” Cecilia, much astonished at this extreme parsimony^ was obliged to consent ; but as the point of the pencil was very blunt, desired the boy to get her a knife that she might cut it. He obeyed, but said, “Pray, miss, take care it ben’t known, for master don’t do such a thing once a year, and if he know’d I’d got ybu the knife, he’d go nigh to give me a good polt of the head.” Cecilia then wrote upon the slate her desire to he in- formed in what manner she should send him her receipt for 6001. which she begged to have instantly advanced. The boy came back grinning and holding up his handi» CECILIA. m and said, Miss, there’s a fine piece of work up stairs ! Master’s in a peck of troubles; but he' says how he’ll come down, if you’ll stay till he’s got his things on.” “ Does he keep his bed, then ? 1 hope 1 have not made him rise?” “ No, miss, he don’t keep his bed, only he must get ready, for be wears no great matter of clothes when he’s alone. You are to know, miss,” lowering his voice “ that that day as he went abroad with our sweep’s clothes on,jhe corned home in such a pickle you never see! 1 believe somebody’d knock’d him in the kennel ; so does moll ; but don’t you say as I teld you 1 He’s been special bad ever since. Moll and 1 was as glad as could be, because he’s so plaugy sharp; for, to let you know, miss, he’s so near, its partly a wonder how he lives at all ; and yet^ he’s worth a power of money, too.” “ Well, well,” said Cecilia, not very desirous to en- courage his forwardness, “ if I want any thing, I’ll call for you. ’ The boy, however, glad to tell his tale, went on. Our moll won’t stay with him above a week longer, miss, because she says how she can't get notliirig to eat, but just some old stinking salt meat, that’s stayed in the butcher’s shop so long, it would make a horse sick to look at it. But moil’s pretty nice; however, miss, to let you know, we don’t get a good meal so often as once a quarter ! why this last week we han’t had nothing at all but some dry musty red herrings : so you may think, miss, we’re kept pretty sharp !” He was now interrupted by hearing Mr. Bfiggacom- ing’down the stairs, upon which, abruptly breaking off his complaints, he held up his finger to his nose in token of secrecy, and ran hastily into the kitchen. The appearance of Mr. Briggs washy no means rendered more attractive by illness and negligence of dress. He had on a fiaiinel gown and night cap, his black beard, of many days growth, was long and grim, and upon his nose and one of bis cheeks was a large patch of brown paper, which as be entered the room, he held on with both his hands. Cecilia made many apologies for having disturbed him and some civil enquiries concerning his health. VOL. I. Y 5 17C CECILIA. Ay, ayy * cried he pettishly, “ bad enough ; all alpiig of that trumpery masquerade : wish I bad not gone i Fool for my pains.” “ When were you taken ill, sir ?” ** Met with an accident ; got a fall, broke my head, like to have lost my wig. Wish the masquerade at old Nick! thought it would cost nothing, or would not have gone, Warrant sha’n’t get me so soon to another !’’ “ Did you fall in going home, sir ?’’ “Ay, ay, plump in the kennel ; could hardly get out of it; felt myself a going, was afraici to tear my clotbe»| |tuew the rascal would make me pay for them, so by holding up the*old sack, came bolt on fny face ; off pops my wig, could not tell what to do ; all as dark as pitch j* Did not you call fer help r” Nobody by but scrubs, knew they would not hpjp for nothing. Seraw leo out as 1 could, groped about for my wig, found it at last, all soused in the mud ; stuck to my bead like Turner’s cerate.” “ I hope, then, you got into a hackney coach?’ “ What for? to make tilings worse: was bad enough, hay? — must pay two shillings beside?' But how did you find yourself when you got hoini^ sir ?” ** How r why wet as muck ; eny head all bumps, my cheek all cut, my nose big as two! forced to wears plaister; half ruined in vinegar. Got a great cold; put mein a fever; never been well since," But have you had no advice, sir? should not. you send fdr a physician ?” “ What to do, hay? fill me with jallop r can get it myself, can’t I? Had one once; was taken very ba i, thought should have pop! ofi’, began to flinch, sent foi’ the doctor, proved nothing hut a cheat! cost me a guinea, give it at fourth visit, and he never came again! — - — warrent won’t have no more Then perceiving upon the table some dust from the pencil, “What’s here?” cried he, angerily, who’s been cutting the pencil ? wish they were hanged ; suppose it’s the boy ; deserves to be horse- whipped : give him a good banging." CECILIA. m C&cilid. imtii€diat6ly cleared hin), by acknowledging she had herself been the culprit. “ Ay, ay,” cried he, “ thought as much all the time ! guessed how it was : nothing but ruin and waste ; send- ing for money nobody knows why ; wanting 6001. — what to do? through it in the dirt? IN ever heard the like! Sha’n’t have it, promise you that, noding his head, “ sha’n’t have no such thing 1’’ “Sha’n’t have it?” cried Cecilia, much surprised, “ why not, sir ?” “ Keep it for your husband ; get you one soon : won^t have no juggling. Oont be in a hurry; one in my eye.^’ Cecilia then began a very earnest expostulation, as- suring him she rearlly wanted the money for an occa- sion, which would not admit of delay. Her remonstrances, however, be wolly disregarded, telling her that girls knew nothing of the value of mo- ney, and ought not to be trusted with it ; that he would not hear of such extravagance, and was resolved not to advance her a penny. Cecilia was both provoked and confounded by a re- fusal so unexpected ; and as she thought herself bound in honour to Mr. Herral not to make known the motive of her urgency, she was for some time totally silenced ; till re- collecting her account with the bookseller, she deter- mined to rest her plea upon that, persuaded that he could not, at least, deny her money to pay her own bills. He heard her, however, with the utmost content ; “ Books?” he cried, “ what do you want with books? do no good ; ail lost time ; words get no cash.” She informed him his admonitions were now too late, as she had already received them, and must therefore necessarily pay for them. “ No, no,” cried he, “ send ’em back, that's best ; keep no such rubbish, wont turn to account; do better without ’em.” “That, sir, will be impossible, for I have had them some time, and cannot expect the bookseller to take them again.*’ “ Must, must,” cried he, can’t help himself ; glad to have ’em too. Are but aminorcon’t be made pay a farthing ' ifg CECILIA. Cedttia with much indignatioo heard such frau^ recOm* mended, and told him she could by no means consented ^folldiv his advice. Bat she soon found, to her utter amaze- -ment, that he steadily refused to give her any other;- ^ Ho bfestow the slightest attention upon her expostulatioil, -Sturdily saying that her uncle had left a noble estate, i-and: he would take care to see it put in proper bands, b}^ getting her a good and careful husband ‘M have no- intention, no wish, sir,” cried she, “to break into the income or estate left me by my uncle ; on 3the contrary, I hold them sacred, and think myself bound in conscience never to live beyond them ; but -the 10,00()L- bequeathed me by my father, I regard as more peculiarly my own property, and therefore I think myself at liberty to dispose of it as I please.” J “ What,”cried he in a rage, “ make it over to a scrubby bookseller ! give it up for an old pot-hook ? no, no, won't isuffer it : sha’n’t be, sha’n’t be, I say ! If you want some books go to Moorfields, pick up enough at an old stall; get ’em at two* pence a piece ; dear enough too.” Cecilia for some time hoped he was merely indulging his strange and sordid humour, by an opposition that was only intended to teaze her; but she soon found her- self extremely mistaken ; he was immoveable in obstinacy as he was incorrigible in avarice; he neither troubled himself with enquiries nor reasoning, but was contented with refusing her as a child might be refused, by peremp- torily telling her she did not' know what she wanted, and therefore should not have what she asked. And with this answer, after all that she could urge, she was compelled to leave the house, as he complained that his brown paper plaister wanted fresh dipping in vinegar, and he could stay talking no longer. The disgust with which this behaviour filled her, was doubled by the shame and concern of returning to the Harrels with her promise unperformed ; she defiberated upon every method that occurred to her of still endea- vouring to serve them, but could suggest nothing, except trying to prevail hpon Mr. Delvile to interfere in her fa- vour. She liked not indeed, the office of solicitation to so haughty a man, but, having no other expedient, her re- CEC1LM4 J73 T|)Ugnance gave way to her gebcro^k^, ^nd fshe .ordered :the chairman to carry her to St; JamOsVsquare. CHAPTER. X. A PERPLEXITY. AND here, at the door of his fathers house, and just ascending the steps she perceived young Delvile. “ Again cried he, handing her out of the chair,“ sure- ly some good genius is at work for me this morning !” She told him she should not have called so early, now she was acquainted with the late hours of Mrs. Delvile, but that she merely meant to speak with his father, for two minutes, upon business. He attended her up, stairs ; and finding she was in haste, went himself with the message to Mt. Delvile: and soon returned with an answer, that he would wait upon her presently. The strange speeches he had made to her when they first met in the morning, now recurring to her memory, .she determined to have them explained, and in order to lead to the subject, mentioned the disagreeable situation in which he had found her, while she was standing up to avoid the sight of the condemned malefactors. “ Indeed I” cried he, in a tone of voice somewhat in- credulous, “ and was that the purpose for which you stood up?” ** Certainly, sir what other could I have ?” “ None, surely !” said he, smiling, “ but the accident was singularly opportune.” “Opportune?” cried Cecilia, staring, “how oppor tune ? this is the second time in the same morning that I am not able to understand you ?” “ How should you understand what is so little intelli- gible r “ I see you have some meaning w'hicb I cannot fa- thom, why, else, should it be so extraordinary that I should endeavour to. avoid a mob? or how could it be opportune that I should happen to meet with one ?” CECILIA. 17a He at first without making any answer; btt perceiving she ionked at bim ivith impatience, be, half gaily, half reproachfully, said, ** Whence is it thatyouf^ ladies, even such vyhose principles are most strict, seem universally, in those affairs w’here iheir affections are con- cerned, to think hypocrisy, necessary and deceit amiable? and hold it graceful to disavow to-day, what they may perhaps mean publicly to acknowledge to-morrow? Cecilia, who heard these questions with unfeigned as- tonishment, looked at him with the utmost eagerness for an explanation. “ Dd you so much wonder,” he continued, “ that I should have hoped in Miss Beverly to have seen some deviation from such rules ? and have expected more open- ness and candour in a young lady who has given so noble a proof of the liberality of her mind and iinderstandiDg?' “ Yoiramaze me beyond measure !” cried she, “ what roles, what candour, what liberality, do you mean?” “ Must I speak yet more plainly? and if 1 do yea will bear to hear me ?” “ Indeed 1 should be extremely glad if you would give me leave to understand you.”* “i^nd may I tell you what has charmed nae, as well as what I have presumed to wonder at?” “ You may tell me any thing, if you will but be less mysterious.” “ Forgive then the frankness you invite, and let me ac- knowledge to you how greatly I honour the noblencMof your conduct. Surrounded as you are by the dpolent and ihesplended, unshackled by dependence, unrestraiaed by auihwity, blest by nature with all that is attractive, by situation with all tliat is desirable, — to slight the rich, and disregard the powerful, for the purer pleftsureof raising oppressed merit, and giving to desert that wealth in which alone it seemed deficient — bow can a spirit so liberal be sufficiently adnawed, or a choice of so much dignity be too highly extolled?” “ I find,” cried Cecilia, “ I must forbear any further enquiry, for the more I hear, the less I onderstandv” “ Pardon me, then,” cried be, “ if here, I return to ®y first question; whence is it that a young lady, who can CECILIA. 175 think so nobly, and act so disinterestedly, should not be unifortnly great, simple in truth, and unaffected in since- rity ? Why should she be thus guarded, where frank* ness would do her so much honour? Why blush in own- ing what all others may blush in envying “ Indeed you perplex me intolerably,’' cried Cecilia, with sonae vexation. “ Why, sir, will you not be more explicit ?” “ And why, madan,” returned he with a laugh “ will you tempt me to be more impertinent; have 1 not said strange things already ?” “ Strange, indeed," cried she, “ for not one of tliem can I comprehend !” “ Pardon, then,” cried he, “ and forget them all ! 1 scmce know myself what urged me to say them, but I began inadvertently, without intending to go on, and I have proceeded involuntarily, without knowing how to stop. The fault, however, is ultimately your own, for the sight of you creates an insurmountable desire to converse with you, and your conversation a propensity equally in- corrigible to take some interest in your weltare." He would then have changed the discourse, and Ceci- lia, ashamed of pressing him further, was ^or some time silent ; but when one of the servants came to inform her that his master meant to wait upon her directly, her un- willingness to leave the matter in suspence, induced her somewhat abruptly to say, “ Perhaps, sir, you are think- ing of Mr. Belfield ?” “ A happy conjecture !” cried he,“ but so wild a one I cannot but marvel how it should occur to you ! “ W^ell, sir,” said she, “ I must acknowledge I now understand your meaning; hut with respect to what has given rise lo it, I am as much a stranger as ever.’ The entrance of Mr. Delvile here closed the conver- sation. He began with his usual ostentatious apologies, declar- ing he had so many people to attend, so many complaints to bear, and so many grievances to redress, that it was impossible for him to wait upon her sooner, and not without difficulty that he waited upon her now. Mean time his son almost immediately retired, and Ce» 176 CECIUA. (cilia, instead of listening to this harangue, was'only disturb* ing herself with cotijeCtures upon what had just passed 8he saw that young Delvile coritluded she was' absolutely engaged to Mr. Belfield, and though she was better pleas* ed that any suspicion should fall' there than upon Sir Ro- bert-Floyer, she was yet both provoked and concerned^ to be suspecfed at all. An attack so earnest from almost any other person, could hardly have failed being very offensive tiKhel*, but in the manners of young Delvile, good breed- ing Was so happily blended with frankness, that his free- dom seemed merely to result from the openness of his dis* position, and even in its very act pleaded its own excuse. Her reverie was at length interrupted by Mr. Delvile’^ desiring to know in what he could serve her. She told him she had present occasion for 6001. and hoped he would not object to her taking up that sum. “ Six hundred pounds,” said he, “ after some delibera- tion, “ is rather an extraordinary demand for a young la- dy in your situation ; your allowance is considerable, yoo have no house, no equipage, no establishment ; your ex* pences, 1 should imagine, cannot be very great — ” j He stopt, and seemed weighing her request. Cecilia, shocked, at appearing extravagant, yet too ge- nerous to mention Mr. Harrel, had again recourse to the booksellers bill, which she told hiuoi she was anxious to discharge. - “A bookseller’s bill cried he ; “ and do you want 600l, for a bookseller’s bill ?” “ No, sir,” said she, stammering, “ no — ^^not all for that, — I have some other — I have a particular occasion ■” But what bill at all,” cried he, with much surprise, “can a young lady have with a bookseller? The Spectatof, Taller, and Guardian, would make library sufficient for any female in the kindgom, nor do I think it like a gentle* woman to have more. Besides, ifyou allay yourself in sufib a manneras 1 approve and recommend, you will inall pro- bability, find already collected more books than there can ever be any possible occasion for you to look into. And let me counsel you to remember, that a lady, w hether so called from birth or fortune, should never degrade herself by be- ing put on a level with writers, and such sort of peofJe.’ CECILIA. 177 Cecilia thanked him for his advice, but confessed tha upon the present occasion it came too late, as the books were now actually in her own possession. “ And have you taken,” cried he, “ such a measure this without consulting me V I thought I bad assured you, my opinion xvas always at your service when you were in anv dilemma ” “Yes sir,” answered Ce'cilia ; “but I knew bow much you were occupied, and wished to avoid taking up your time.” “I cannot blame your modesty,” he replied, “and therefore as you have contracted the debt, you are, in honour, bound to pay it. Mr. Briggs, however, has the entire management of your fortune, my many avocations obliging me to decline so laborious a triibt : apply there- fore, to him, and, as things are situated, I make no op- position to your demand.” “ 1 have already, sir,” said Cecilia, “ spoke to Mr. Briggs, but “You went to him first, tiien?” interrupted Mr. Delvile, with a look of much displeasure. “ 1 was jnwiliing, sir, to trouble you till I found' it anavoi(j.ibie,” sue tlien acquainted him with Mr. Briggs’ refusal, and entreated he would do her the favour to in- tercede in her behalf, that the money might uo longer be denied her. Every word she spoke, his pride seemed rising to re- sent, and wlien >he had done, after regarding her some time with apparent indignation, he said, “ / intercede, jT become an agent !” Cecilia, amazed to find liim thus violerulv irritated, made a very earnest apohigy tor Her reqlle^r; t)ut, with- out paving ber any atrenfiun, he walktii u(> and down the room, exclaiming “an agent! and to VJr. Briggs 1 This is an aflh)nt I could nev'^ r have expected ! why did 1 degrade myself bv accepting this liumiliating office I ought to have known better !’’ 1 hen, turning to Cecilia, “ Child,” he added, “ for whom -is it you take me, and for what?” Cecilia again, though affronted in her turn, began some r)iotestations of respect ; but haughtily interrupting her, VOL. I. 2 5 178 CECILIA. he said, “ If of me, and of my rank in life, you judge b Mr. Briggs or Mr. Harrel, I may be subject to proposals such as these every day; suffer me, therefore, for your better information to hint to you, that the head of an ancient and honourable house, is apt to think himself somewhat superior to people but just rising from dust and obscurity.” Thunderstruck by this imperious reproof, she could at* tempt no further vindication : but when he observed bar consternation, he was somewhat appeased, and hoping he had now impressed her with a proper sense of his dignity, he more gently said, “ you did not, 1 believe in- tend to insult me.” “ Good heaven, sir, no !’’ cried Cecilia, “ nothing was more distant from my thoughts ; if my expressions have been faulty, it has been wholly^ from ignorance.” “ -Well, well, we will think then no more of it,” She then said she would no longer detain him, and, without daring to again mention her petition, she wished him good morning. He suffered her to go, yet, as she left the room, gra- ciously Said, “ Think no more of my displeasure, for it is over : I see you were not aware of the extraordinary thing you proposed. I am sorry I cannot possibly assist you ; on any other occasion you may depend upon my services : but you know Mr. Briggs, you have seen him yourself — judge, then, how a man of fashion is to ac- commodate himself with such a person !” Cecilia concurred, and courtseying, took her leave, “Ah! thought she, in her way home, how happy is it for me that 1 followed the advice of Mr. Moncktoo! else I had surely made interest to become an inmate of that bouse, and then, indeed, as be wisely foresaw, I should inevitably have been overwhelmed by this pom- pous insolence. No family, however amiable, could make amends for such a master of it.” CECILIA. 179 BOOK III. CHAPTER I. AN ADMONITION. The Harrels and Mr. Arnott waited the return of Cecilia with the utmost impatience ; she told them with much concern the failure of her embassy, which Mr. Barrel heard with visible resentment and discontent; while Mr. Arnott, entreating him not to think of it, again made an offer of his services, and declared he would disregard all personal inconvenience for the plea- sure of making him and his sister easy. Cecilia was much rnortihed that she had not the power to act the same part, and asked Mr. Harrel whether he believed his own influence with Mr. Briggs would be more successful. “ No, no,*’ answered he, “ the old curmudgeon would but the rather refuse. 1 know his reason, and therefore am sure all pleas will be vain. He has dealings in the alley, and 1 dare say games with your money as if it were his own. There is, indeed, one way— but 1 do not think you would like it though 1 protest I hardly know why not however, ’tis as well let alone.” Cecilia insisted upon hearing what he meant, and, af- ter some hesitation, he hinted that there were means, by which, with very little inconvenience, she might borrow the money, Cecilia, with that horror natural to all unpractised minds at the first idea of contracting a voluntary debt, started at this suggestion, and seemed very ill disposed to listen to it. Mr. Harrel, perceiving her repugnance, turned to Mr. Arnott, and said, “Well, iny good brother. 180 CECILIA. I hardly know how to suffer you to sell out at such a loss, but yet, my present necessity is so urgent ” “Don’t mention it ” cried Mr. Arnott; “I am very sorry 1 let you know it : be certain, however, that while I have any ttiii-g, it is your’s and my sister's.” The two j>enrlenun were then retiring together; but Cecilia, slio( ked tor Mr. Arnott, though unmoved by Mr. Harrel, stopt tliem to enquire what was the way by which it was n.eant she could borrow the money Mr. Harrt'l seemed averse to answer, but she would not be refu.sed ; and ilien he mentioned a Jew, of whose honesty he tmd made undoubted trial, and who, as she was so near being ot age, would accept very trifling io- terest tor whaievi r she should like to take up. Til© heart of Cecilia recoiled at the very mention of a Jtw^ aiid taking uft momy upon initrtst ; hut, impeilfid strongly by her own genemsity to emulate tr.at of Mr» Arnott,, she agie< d, alter some hesitation, to have course to this method. Mr Harrel tiien made some faint denials, and Mr. Arnott proitsied be hation or oi jeetion undertook the commission; gnd Cecilia would not lessen if, because unwilling to do more for the security ot the luxurious Mr. Harrel, tbafl for the riistresio of the laboiious Hills. Nothing could be more speedy than the executioBof this affair; Mr. Harrel was diligent and expert, the whole was settled that morning, and, giving to the' Jew her bond for the payment at the interest he required, sb€ put into the bands of Mr. Harrel three hondred CECILIA. ISi pounds, for which he gave his receipt, and she kept the rest for her own purposes. She intended the morning after this transaction to settle her account with the biiokseller. When she went into the parlour to hreakfast, she was somewhat surprised to see Mr. Harrel seated there, in earnest discourse with bis wife. Fearful ot interrupting a tete a-iete so uncommon, she would have retired ; but Mr. Harrel calling after her, said, “ O pray come in ! 1 am only telling Priscilla a piece of my usual ill luck. You mus' know I happen to be in immediate w ant of 2001. though only for three or four days, and 1 sent to order honest old Aaron to come hither directly with the money ; but it so ijappens that he went out of town the moment he had done with us yesterday, and will not he back again this week. Now 1 don’t believe there is another Jew in the kingdom who will let me have money upon the same terms: they are such notorious rascals, that 1 hate the very thought of employing them.” Cecilia, w liocouhl not but understand what this meant, was loo much displea>ed both by his extravagance, and his indelicacy, to feel at all inclined to change the destina- tion of the fuoney she had just received, and therefore cooly agreed that it w as unfortunate, but added nothing more. “ O, it is provoking indeed,” cried he, “for the extra interest 1 must pay one of those extortioners is absolutely so much money thrown away.” Cecilia still without noticing these hints, began her breakfast. Mr. Harrel then said he w'ould take his tea with them; and, while he was buttering some dry toast, exclaimed, as if from sudden recollection, “ O Lord, now .1 think ol it, 1 believe, Miss Beverley, you can leml me this money yourself for a day or two. The moment old Aaron conu s to tov^n, 1 will pay you. Cecilia, whose generosity, however extensive, was neither thoughtless nor indiscriminate, found something so repulsive in this procedure, that instead of assenting to his request w ith her usual alacrity, she answered very gravely, that the money she had just received was al- ready appropriated to a particular purpose, and she knew not bow to defer making use of it. Alf. Harrel was extremely chagrined by this reply, which 182 CECILIA. was by no means what he expected ; but, tossing down a dish of tea, he began humming an air, and soon re- covered his usual unconcern. In a few minutes, ringing his bell, he desired a servant to go to Mr. Zackery. and intoi in him, that he wanted 10 speak with him immediately. “And now,” said he, with a look in which vexation seemed struggling with carlessness, “the thing is done! I don’t like, indeed, to get into such hands, for tis hard ever to get out of them, when once one begins, and hither- to 1 have kept pretty clear. But there is no help for it. — Mr. Arnott cannot jest now assist me, and so the thing must take its course Pri^ci!la why do you look so grave?” “I am thinking how unlucky it is my brother should happen to be unable to lend you this money.” “ O, don’t think al)out it; 1 shall get rid ot the man very soon, I dare say ; I shall pay hini off in a very few days — I hope so, at least 1 am sure I mean it.” Cecilia now grew a little disturbed ; she looked at Mrs. Harrel, who seemed also uneasy, and then, with some hesitation, said, “ Have you really never, sir, em- ployed this man before ?” “ Never in my life ; never any but old Aaron. I dread the wh^le race ; I have a sort of superstitious notion that if once I get into their clutches, I shall never be my own man again: and that induced me to beg your as- sistance. However, it’s no great matter.” She then began to waver ; she feared there might be future mischief as well as present inconvenience, in his applying to new usurers, and knowing she had now the power to prevent him, thought herself half cruel in re- fusing to exert it. She wi.shed to consult Mr. Monckton, but found it necessary to take her measures immediately, as the Jew was already sent for, and must in a few mo- ments be either employed or discarded. Much perplext how to act, between a desire of doing good and a fear of encouraging evil, she w eighed each side hastily, but while still uncertain which ought to preponde- rate, her kindness for Mrs. Harrel interfered, and, in the hope^of rescuing her husband from further bad practic^ she said she would postpone her own business for theief CECILIA. 183 days he mentioned, rather than see him compelled to open any new account with so dangerous a set of men. He thanked her in his usual negligent manner, and accepted the 2001. gave her his receipt for it, and a pro- mise she should be paid in a week. Mrs. Harrel, however, seemed mote grateful, and with many embraces spoke her sense of this friendly good-na- ture. Cecilia, happy Irom believing she had revived in her some spark of sensibility, determined to avail herself of so favourable a symptom, and enter at once upon the disagreeable task she had set herself, of representing to her the danger of her present situation. As soon, iheiefore, as breakfast was done, and Mr. Arnott, who came in before it was over, w'as gone, with a view to excite her attention by raising her curiosity, she begged the favour of a private conference in her own room, upon matters of some importance. She began with hoping that the friendsliip in which they had so long lived would make her pardon the liberty she was going to take, and wliich nothing less than their for- mer intimacy, juined to strong apprehensions for her fu- ture welfare, coaid authorise; “ But, Oh, Priscilla !” she continued, with open eves to see your danger, yet not warn vou of it, would be a reserve treachery in a friend, and cruel even in a fellow-creature.” “ What danger r" cried Mrs. Harrel, much alarmed. “ Do you think ti e ill ? Do I look consumptive r’’ “ Yes, consumptive indeed !” said Cecilia; “but not, I hope, in yoiw constitution.” And then, with all the tenderness in her-power, she came to the point, and conjured her without delay to re- trench her expences. and change her thoughtless way of life for one more considerate and domestic. Mrs. Harrel, with much simplicity, assured her she did nothing but what every body else did, and that it was quite impossible for her to appeal' in the zcortd in any other manner. “ But how are you to appear hereafter?” cried Ce- cilia; “ if now you live beyond your income, you mutt consider that, in time, your income by such depredations will be exhausted.” CECILIA. 194 “ But I ^clare to you,” answeFed Mrs. Harrel, “ I noTer rtrn in debt for more than balf a year, for as soon as I reeeive my own. money, I generalfy pay it away every shiilino ; and so borrow what 1 want till pay day comes round again.” And that,” said Cecilia, “ seems a method expressly derised for keeping you eternally comfort les.s : pardon me, however, for speaking so ope(tly, but I fear Mr. Harrel himself must be even still less attentive and ac^ curate in his affairs, or he co'dd not so frequently be embarrassed.. And what is to be the result? look but, my dear Priscilla, a little forward, and you will tremWe at the prospect before you !” Mr5. Harrel seemed frightened at this speech, and begged to know what she Would have them to do? Cecilia then, with equal wisdom and friendliness, pro»‘ posed a general reform in the household, the public and private expence.s of both : she advised that a strict exa- mination might be made into the state of their affafrs ; til at all their bills should be called in, and taithfully paid'; and that an entire new plan of life should be adopted, 'according to the situation of their fortune and income when cleared of all incumbrances. “ Lord, n)y dear !” exclaimed Mrs. Harrel, with a look of astonishment, “ why Mr. Harrel would no more do all this than % ! If I was only to make such a proposal, 1 dare say he would laugh in my face.” “ A nd why r” “ Why? — why because it would seem such an odd thing — it’s w hat nobody thinks of, though I am sure f aai very much obliged to you tor mentioning it. Shall we gd down stairs? I think 1 heard somebody come in.” “ No matter w-ho comes in,” said Cecilia, “ reflect foV a moment upon my proposal, and, at least, if you disap- prove it, suggest something more eligible.” “ O, it’s a very good proposal, that I agree,” said Mrs.' Harrel, looking very weary “ but only the thing is, it’d quite impossible.” “ Why so? Why is it impossible ?” “Why because — dear, 1 don’t know — but T am sure CECILIA. 185 ** But what is your reason ? What makes you sure of it?” Ijord, I can’t tell— -but 1 know it is— because I am very certain it is.” Argument such as this, though extremely fatiguing to the understanding of Cecilia, had yet no power to blunt her purpose ; she warmly expostulated against the weak* ness of her defence, strongly represented the imprudence of her conduct, and exhorted her by every tie of justice, honour, and discretion, to set about a reformation. “ Why what can I do ?” cried Mrs. Barrel, impatient- ly, “ one must live a little like other people. You would not have me be stared at, I suppose ; and I am sure 1 donH know what I do, that every body else does not do too.*’ “ But were it not better,” said Cecilia, with more energy, to think less of other people^ and more of selff to consult your own fortune, and your own situatmn in life, instead of being blindly guided by those of other peo- ple? If, indeed, other people would be responsible for your losses, for the diminution of your wealth, and for the disorder of your affairs, then might you rationally make their way of life the example of your’s ; but you can- not flatter yourself such will be the case : you know better; your losses, your diminisbed fortune, your embarrassed circumstances will be all j-our own ! pitied, perhaps, by some, but blamed by more, and assisted by none i*’ “ Good Lord, Miss Beverley ” cried Mrs. Barrel, start- ing* “ you talk just as if we were ruined !” ^ I mean not that,** replied Cecilia, “ but I would fain, by pointing out your danger, prevail with you to prevent in lime so dreadful a catastrophe.” Mrs, Barrel, more affronted than alarmed, heard this answer with much displeasure, and after a sullen hesita- tion, peevishly said, “ I must own I don’t take it very kind of you to say such frightful things to me : I am sure we only live like the rest of the woild, and I don’t see why a man of Mr. Barrel’s fortune should live any worse. As to his having now and then a little debt or two, it is no- thing but what every body else has. You only think it so odd, because you a’n^t used to it ; but you are quite mis- taken if you suppose he does not mean to pay, for he told VOL. I. 2 A 5 186 CECILIA. me this morning, that as soon as ever he receives his rents he intends to discharge every bill he has in the world.” “ I am very glad to hear it,” answered Cecilia, “ and 1 heartily wish he may have the resolution to adhere to his purpose. I feared you would think me iiri pertinent, but you do worse in believing me unkind : friendship and good will could alone have induced me to hazard what I have said to you. 1 must, however, have done; though I cannot forbear adding, that 1 hope what has already passed will sometimes recur to you. ' They then separated, Mrs. Harrel half bangry at remon- strances she thought only censorious ; and Cecilia of- fended at her pettishness and iolly, though grieved at her blindness. She was soon, however, recompensed for this vexation by a visit from Mrs. Delvile ; who, finding her alone, sat with her some time, and by her spirit, understanding, and elegance, dissipated all her chagrin. From another circumstance, also, she received much pleasure, though a little perplexity.; Mr. Arnott brought her word that Mr. Belfield, almostquite well, had actu- ally left his lodgings, and was gone into the country. She now half suspected that the account of his illness given her by young Delvile, w'as merely the effect of his curiosity to discover her sentiments of him ; yet when she considered how foreign to his character appeared every species of artifice, she exculpated him from the design, and concluded that the impatient spirit of Belfield had hurried him away, when really unfit for travelling. She had no means, however, to hear more of him now he had quitted the town, and therefore, though uneasy, she was compelled to be patient. In the evening she had again a visit from Mr. Monck- ton ; who, though he was now acquainted how much sb^ was at home, had the forbearance to avoid making fre-^ quent use of that knowledge, that his attendance might escape observation. Cecilia, as usual, spoke to him of all her affairs with the utmost openness: and as her mind was now chiefly occupied by her apprehensions for the Harrels, she com- municated to him the extravagance of which they were CECILIA. 187 guilty, and hinted at the distress that from time to time it occasioned ; but the assistance she had afforded them her own delicacy prevented her mentioning. Mr. Monckton scrupled not from this account instantly to pronounce Harrel a ruined man ; and thinking Cecilia, from her connexion with him, in much danger of being involved in his future difficulties, he most earnestly ex- horted her to suffer no inducement to prevail with her to advance him any money, confidently affirming she would have little chance of being ever repaid. Cecilia listened to this charge with much alarm, but readily promised future circumspection. She confessed to him the conference she had had in the morning with Mrs. Harrel, and after lamenting her determined neglect of her affairs, slie added, “ I cannot but own that my es- teem for her, even more than my affection, has lessened almost every day since 1 have been in her house ; but this morning, when I ventured to speak to her with ear- nestness, I found her powers of reasoning so weak, and her infatuation to luxury and expence so strong, that I have ever since felt ashamed at my own want of discern- ment in having formerly selected her for my friend.’’ “When you gave her that title,” said Mr. Monckton, “ you had little choice in your power; her sweetness and good-nature attracted you; childhood is never troubled with foresight, and youth is seldom difficult : she was lively and pleasing, vou were generous and affectionate ; your acquaintance with her was formed while you were yet too young to know your own worth ; your fondness of her grew from habit; and before the inferiority of her parts had weakened your regard, by offending youf judgment, her earlv marriage separated you from her entirely. But now^ you meet again, the scene is altered ; three years of absence spent in the cultivation of an un- derstanding naturally of the first order, by increasing your wisdom, has made you more fabiidious while the same time spent by her in mere idleness and shew, has hurt her disposition, without adding to her knowledge, and robbed her of her natural excellencies, without en- riching her with acquired ones. ITou see her now with impartiality, for yon see her almost as a stranger, and all 1S8 CECILIA. those deficieinctes which retirettient and inexperience had formerly concealed, her vanity, and her superficial ac* quaintance with the world, have now rendered glaring. But fully weakens all bands; remember, therefore, if you would form a solid friendship, to consult not only the heart but the head, not only the temper but the under- standing.’* “ Well, then^” said Cecelia, “ at least it must be CCHI* fessed I have judiciously chosen yo«/” “ You have, indeed, done me the highest honour,” he answered. They then talked of Belfield ; and Mr. Monckton am- firmed the account of Mr. Aroott, that he had left Ion-' don in good health. After which, he enquired if she had seen any thing more of the Delvile’s ? Yes,” said Cecilia, “ Mrs. I>elvile called upon me this morning. She is a delightful woman ; I am sorry you know lier not enough to do her jnstioe.’ “ Is she civil to you?” “ Civil ? she is all kindness !” Then, depend upon it, she has something in view; whenever that is not the case, she is all insolence* And Mr. Del vile — pray what do you think of him r” “ O, 1 think him insufferable! and 1 cannot sufficiently thank you for that timely caution which preveticed my change of habitation. I would not live under the same roof with him for the world !” “ Well, and do you not now begin also to see the son properly r” “ Properly ? I don’t understand yon.” “ Why as the very son of such parents, haughty and impertinent.” “ No, indeed ; he has not the smallest resemblance of bis father, and if he resembles his mother, it is only what every one must wish who impartially sees her.” “You know not that family. But bow, indeed, should you, when they are in a combination to prevent yoitf getting that knowledge? They have all their designs up- on you, and if you are not carefully iU>pon your guard, you will be the dupe to them.” “ What can you possibly mean r” CECILIA. lad ** Nothing but what every body else must immediately see ; they have a great share of pride, and a small one of wealth ; you seem by fortune to be flung in their way, and doubtless they mean not to neglect so inviting an Opportunity repairing their estates,” “ Indeed you are mistaken ; I am certain they have no such intention ; on the contrary, they all even teasingly persist in thinking^ me already engaged elsewhere.” She then gave hbn a history of their several suspicions. V The impertinence of report,’\she added, “ has so much convinced them that Sir Robert Floyer and Mr. Belfield fought merely as rivals, that I can only clear myself of partiality for one of them, to have it instantly conclude I feel it for the other. And, far from seeming hurt that 1 appear to be disposed of, Mr. Delvile openly seconds the pretensions of Sir Robert, and: his son officially per- suades me that I am already Mr; Beltield's.” “ Tricks, nothing but tricks, to discover your real si- tuation.” He then gave her some general cautions to be upon her guard against their artifices, and changing the subject, talked, for the rest of his visit, upon matters of general entertainment. CHAPTER II. AN EVASION. CECILIA now for about a fortnight passed her time without incident ; the Harrels continued their accustom- ed dissipation ; Sir Robert Floyer, without even seeking a private conference, persevered in his attentions ; and Mr. Arnott, though still silent and humble, seemed only to live by the pleasure of beholding her. She spent two whole days with Mrs. Delvile, both of which served to confirm her admiration of that lady and of her son; and she joined the parties of the Harrels, or stayed quietly at home, according to her spirits and inclinations : w hile she was visited by Mr. Monckton often enough to satisfy him with her proceedings, yet too seldom to betray either to herself or to the world any suspicion of her designs. Her 2001. however, which was to have been returned at 190 CECILIA. the end of the week, though a fortnight had now elapsed, had not even been mentioned : she began to grow very impatient, but not knowing what course to pursue, and wanting courage to remind Mr. Harrel of his promise, she still waited the performance of it without speaking. At this time, preparations were making in the family for removing to Violet-Bank to spend the Easter holidays; but Cecilia, who was too much grieved at such perpetual encrease of unnecessary ex pences to have any enjoyment in new prospects of enter,lainment, had at present some business of her own which gave her full employment. The poor carpenter, whose family she had taken under her protection, was ju§t dead, and, as soon as the last duties had been paid him, she sent for bis widow, and after trying to console her for the loss she had suffered, assured her she was immediately ready to fulfil the en- gagement into which she had entered, of assisting her to undertake some better method of procuring a livelihood; and therefore desired to know in what manner she could serve her, and what she thought herself able to do. The good woman, pouring forth thanks and praises in- numerable, answered that she bad a cousin, who had of- fered, for a certain premium, to take her into partnership in a small haberdasher’s shop. “ But then, madam,” continued she, “it’s quite morally impossible 1 should raise such a sum, or else, to be sure, such a shop as that, now i am grown so poorly, would be quite a heaven upon earth to me: for my strength, madam, is almost all gone away, and when I do any bard work, it’s quite a piteous sight to see me, for I am all in a tremble after it, just as if 1 had an ague, and yet all the time my bands, madam, will be burning like a coal!” “ \ ou have indeed been over-worked,” said Cecilia, “and it is high time your feeble frame should have some rest. What is the sum your cousin demands r” “ O, madam, more than I should be aide to get toge- ther in all my life ! for earn what 1 will, it goes fast as it comes, because there’s many mouths, and small pay, and two of the little ones That can’t help at all ; — and there’s no Billy, madam, to work for us now !” “ But tell me what is the sum ?” CECILIA. 191 “ Sixty-pound, madam.” “ You shall have it!"’ cried the generous Cecilia ; if the situation will make you happy, I will give it you myself.” The poor woman wept her thanks, and was long before she could sufficiently compose herself to answer the fur- ther questions of Cecilia, who next enquired what could be done with the children ? Mrs. Hill, however, hitherto hopeless of such a provision for herself, had for them formed no plan. She told her, therefore, to go to her cousin, and consult upon this subject, as well as to make preparations for her own removal. The arrangement of this business now became her fa- vourite occupation. She went herself to the shop, which was a very small one, in Fetter-lane, and spoke with Mrs. Roberts, the cousin, who agreed to take the eldest girl, now sixteen years of age, by way of helper ; but said she had room for no other : however, u[)on Cecilia offering to raise the premium, she consented that the two little children should also live in the house, where they might be under the care of their mother and sister. There were still two others to be disposed of, but as no immediate method of providing for them occured to Ce- cilia, .she determined, for the present, to place them in some cheap school, where they might be taught plain W'ork, which could not but prove a useful qualification for whatever sort of business they miglit hereafter attempt. Her plan was to bestow upon Mrs. Hill and her. chil- dren 1001. by way of putting them all in a decent way of living; and then, from time to time, to make them such small presents as their future exigencies or changes of situation might require. Now, therefore, payment from Mr. Harrel became im- mediately necessary, for she had only 50l. out of the 6 OOI, she had taken up in her own possession, and her custom- ary allowance was already so appropriated, that she could make from it no considerable deduction. There is something in the sight of laborious indigence so affecting and so respectable that it renders dissipation peculiarly contemptible, and doubles the odium of ex- travagance; every time Cecilia saw this poor family, J92 CECILIA. her aversion to the conduct and the principles of Mr. Barrel increased, while her delicacy of shocking or sham- ing him diminished, and she soon acquired for them what she had failed to acquire for herself, the spirit aird reso- lution to claim her debt. One morning, therefore, as he was quitting the break- fast-room, she hastily arose, and following, heyged to have a moment’s discourse with him. They went toge- ther to the library, and after some apologies, and much hesitation, she told him she fancied he had forgotten the 2001. which she had lent him. “The 2001.” cried he : “ O, ay, true !— I protest it bad escaped me. Well, but you don’t want it imuiediately?” “ Indeed I do, if you can conveniently Sj are o.” “O yes, certainly 1-^without the, least douhi ! — Ttiough tiow' I think of it*— it’s extremely unlucky, Out reidly just at this time — why did not you put uie in mi«d of it be* fore r “ I hoped you would have remembered it yourself,” “ T Could have paid you two days ago exueiw ly well^ — however, you shall certainly have it very ?>oon, that you may depend upon, and a day or two can make no great difference to you." He then wished her good morning, and left ber. Cecilia, very much provoked, regretted that she liad ever lent it at all, and determined tbr the future strictly to fidiow the advice of Mr. Monckton, in trusting him no mure. Two or three days passed on, but still no notice was taken either of the payment or of the debt. She thenre*^ solved to ^et^ew her application, and be mose serious and more urgent with him ; but she found, to her niter s«r* prise, this was not in her pow er, and though she lived under the same roof with him, she had no opfi-ortunity to enforce her claim. Mr. Han el, whenever she desired to speak with him, protested he was so much hun ied be bad not a inoment to spare : and even w hen, tired of his ex# ciises, she pursued him out of the room, lie oniv qukkr ened his speed, smiling, however, and bowing, anxl casing eut, " J am vastly sorry, *but i am so late now I cannot ’.^op an instant; however, as soon as I come back, I shall be wholly at your command.” CECILIA. 19s When he came back, however, Sir Robert Floyer, or some other gentleman, was sure to be with him, and the difficulties of obtaining an audience were sure to be en- creased. And by this method, which he constantly prac- tised, of avoiding any private conversation, he frustrated all her schemes of remonstrating upon his delay, since her resentment, however great, could never urge her to the in- delicacy of dunning him in presence of a third person. She was now much perplexed herself how to put into execution her plan for the Hills : she knew it would be as vain to apply for money to Mr. Briggs, as for pay- ment to Mr. Harrel. Her word, however, had been given, and her word she held sacred : she resolved, there- fore, for the present, to bestow upon them the 501. she still retained, and, if the rest should be necessary before she came of age, to spare it, however inconveniently, from her private allowance, which, by the will of her uncle, was 5001. a year ; 2501. of which Mr. Harrel re- ceived for her board and accommodations. Having settled this matter in her own mind, she went to the lodging of Mrs. Hill, in order to conclude the affair. She found her and all her children, except the youngest, hard at work, and their honest industry so much strengthened her compassion, that her wishes for serving them grew every instant more liberal. Mrs. Hill readily undertook to make her cousin accept half the premium for the present, which would suffice to fix her, with three of her children, in the shop : Cecilia then went with her to Fetter-lane, and there drawing- up herself an agreement for their entering into partnership, she made each of them sign it, and take a copy, and kept a third in her own possession ; after which, she gave a pro- missory note to Mrs. Roberts for the rest of the money. She presented Mrs. Hill also, with 101. to clothe them all decently, and enable her to send two of the children to school, and assured her that she would herself pay for their board and instruction, till she should be established in her business, and have power to save money for that pur- pose. She then put herself into a chair to return home, fol- lowed by the prayers and blessings of the whole family VOL. I. S B 5 m CECILIA. CHAPTER III. AN ADVENTURE. NEVER had the heart of Cecilia felt so light, so gay, so glowing, as after the transaction of this affair : her life had never appeared to her so important, nor her wealth so valuable. To see five helpless children provided for by herself, rescued from the extremes of penury and wretchedness, and put in a way to become useful to so- ciety, and comfortable to themselves ; to behold their feeble mother, snatched from the hardship of that labour which, Overpowering her strength, had almost destroyed her existence, now placed in a situation where a compe- tent maintenance might be earned without fatigue, and the remnant of her days pass in easy employment — to view such sights, and have power to say, “ These deeds are mine f what, to a disposition fraught with tenderness and benevolence, could give purer self-applause, or more exquisite satisfaction ? Such were the pleasures which regaled the reflections of Cecilia, when, in her way home, having got out of her chair to walk through the upper part of Oxford-street, she was suddenly met by the old gentleman whose emphatical addresses to her had so much excited her astonishment. He was passing quick on, but stopping the moment he perceived her, he sternly called out, “ Are you proud? are you callous } are you hard of heart so soon “ Put me, if you please, to some trial !” cried Cecilia, with the virtuous courage of a self-acquitted conscience, “ I already have !” returned he, indignantly, “ and already have I found you faulty !” “I am sorry to hear it,” said the amazed Cecilia; “ but at least I hope you will tell me in what ?” “ You refused me admittance,” he answered, “ yet I was your friend, yet L was willing to prolong the term of your gehuine tranquillity ! I pointed out to you a method of preserving peace with your own soul ; I came to you in behalf of the poor, and instructed you. how to merit their prayers ; you heard me, you were susceptible, you complied ! I meant to have repeated the lesson, to have CECILIA. J95 turned your whole heart to compassion, and to have taught you the sad duties of sympathising humanity. For this purpose I called again, but again I was not admit- ted ! Short was the period of my absence, yet long enough for the completion of your downfall !’’ “ Good heaven,” cried Cecilia,^ “how dreadful is this language ! when have you called, sir ? 1 never heard you bad been at the liouse. Far from refusing you admit- tance, I wished to see you !” “ Indeed ?” cried he vvith some softness, and are you in truth, not proud? not callous? not hard of heart? Follow me, then, and visit the humble and the poor; fol- low me, and give comfort to the fallen and dejected !” At this invitation, however desirous to do good, Cecilia started ; the strangeness of the inviter, his slightiness, his authoritative manner, and the uncertainty whither or to whom he might carry her, made her fearful of proceed- ing : yet a benevolent curiosity to see as well as serve the objects of his recommendation, joined to the eagerness of youthful integrity to clear her own character from the aspersion of hard-heartedness, soon conquered her ir resolution, and, making a sign to nerservant to keep near her, she followed as her conductor led. fie went on silently and solemnly till he came to Swal- low-street, then turning into it, he stopt at a small and mean-looking house, knocked at the door, and without asking any question of the man who opened it, beckoned her to come after him, and hastened up some narrow winding stairs. Cecilia again hesitated ; but when she recollected, that this old man, though little known, was frequently seen, and though with few people acquainted, was by many personally recognized, she thought it iu)[)Ossible be could mean her any injury. She ordered her servant, however, to come in, and bid him keep walking up and down the stairs till she returned to him. And then she obeyed the directions of her guide. He proceeded till he came to the second floor, then, again beckoning her to follow him, he opened a door, and entered a small and very meanly furnished apartment. And here, to her infinite astonishment, she perceived, CECILIA. 1D6 employed in washing some china, a very lovely young woman, genteely dressed, and appearing hardly seven- teen years of age. The moment they came in, with evident marks of con- fusion, she instantly gave over her work, hastily putting the bason she was washing upon the table, and endea- vouring to hide the towel with^ which she was wiping it, behind her chair. The old gentleman, advancing to her with quickness, said, ‘‘ How is he now ? is he better ? will he live?” “Heaven forbid he should not !” andswered the young W'oman with emotion, “ but, indeed, he is no better.” “Look here,” said he, pointing to Cecilia, “I have brought you one w'ho has power to serve you, and to re- lieve your distress : one who is rolling in affluence, a stranger to ill, a novice in the world ; — unskilled in the miseries she is yet to endure, unconscious of the depravity into which she is to sink ! Receive her benefactions while she is yet untainted, satisfied that while she aids you, she is blessing herself!” The young woman, blushing and abashed, said, “ You are very good to me, sir, but there is no occasion — there is no need — I have not any necessity — I am far from being so very much in want — ” “ Poor simple soul !” interrupted the old man, “ and art thou ashamed of poverty ? Guard, guard thyself from other shames, and the wealthiest may envy thee ! Tell here thy story, plainly, roundly, truly } abate nothing of thy indigence, repress nothing of her liberality. The poor, not impoverished by their owm guilt, are equals of the affluent, not enriched by their own virtue. Come then, and let me present ye to each other! young as ye both are, with many years and many sorrows to encounter," lighten the burden of each other’s cares, by the heart- soothing exchange of gratitude for beneficence !” He then took a hand of each, and joining them between his own, “ Tow,” he continued, “ who though rich, are not hardened, and you, who though poor, are not debased, why should ye not love, why should ye not cherish each other ? The afflictions of life are tedious, its joys are evanescent; ye are now both young, and with little to CECILIA. 197 p*joy> find much to suffer. Ye are both too, 1 believe, innocent ; Oh could ye always remain so ! Cherubs were ye then, and the sons of men might worship you !” He stopt, checked by bis own rising emotion ; but soon resuming his usual austerity, “ Such, however,” he con-^ tirtued, “ is not the condition of humanity ; in pity, there- fore to the evils impending over both, be kind to each other ! I leave you together, and to your mutual ten- derness I recommend you !” Then, turning particularly to Cecilia, “ Disdain not,”^ he said, “ to console the depressed ; look upon her with- out scorn, converse with her without contempt : like you, she is an orphan, though not like you, an heiress ; like her you are fatherless, though not like her friendless ! If she is awaited by the temptations of adversity, you, also, are surrounded by the corruptions of prosperity. Your fall is most probable, her’s most excusable ; commisserate her therefore now% — by and by she may commisserate you And with these words he left the room. A total silence for some time succeeded his departure, Cecilia found it difficult to recover from the surprise in- to which she had been throw n sufficiently for speech ; in following her extraordinary director, her imagination had painted to her a scene such as she had so lately quitted, and prepared her to behold some family in distress, some helpless creature in sickness, or some children in want; but of these to see none, to meet but one person, and that one fair, young, and delicate, — an introduction so singular to an object so unthought of, deprived her of all power but that of shewing her amazement. Meanwhile the young woman looked scarcely less sur- prised, and infinitely more embarrassed. She surveyed her apartment with vexation, and her guest with confu- sion ; she had listened to the exhortation of the old man with visible uneasiness, and now he was gone, seemed overwhelmed with shame and chagrin. Cecilia, who in observing these emotions felt both her curiosity and her compassion encrease, pressed her hand as she parted with it, and, when a little recovered, said, “ You must think this a strange intrusion ; but the gentle- man who brought me hither is perhaps so well know n to 158 CECILIA. you, as to make his singularities plead with you their own apology.” “No, indeed, madam,” she answered bashfully, “he is very little known to me ; but he is very good, and very desirous to do me service : — not but what I believe he thinks me much worse off than I really am, for, I assure you, madam, whatever he has said, I am not ill off at all — hardly. The various doubts to her disadvantage which had at first, from her uncommon situation, arisen in the mind of Cecilia, this anxiety to disguise, not display her distress, considerably removed, since it cleared her of all suspicion of seeking by artifice and imposition to play upon her her feelings. With a gentleness, therefore, the most soothing, she replied, “ I should by no means have broken in upon you thus unexpectedly, if I had not concluded my con- ductor had some right to bring me. However, since we are actually met, let us remember his injunctions, and endeavour not to part, till, by a mutual exchange of good will, each has added a friend to the other.” “You are condescending, indeed, madam,” answered the young woman, with an air the most humble, “ look- ing as you look, to talk of a friend when you come to such a place as this ! up two pair of stairs ! no furnittire! no servant ! every thing in such disorder ! Indeed I won^ der at Mr. Albany ! he should not but he thinks every body’s affairs may be made public, and does not care what he tells, nor who hears him; — he knows not the pain he gives», nor the mischief he may do.” “ I arn very much concerned,” cried Cecilia, more and more surprised at all she heard, “ to find I have been thus instrur^ental in distressing yon. I was ignorant whi- ther I was coming, and followed him, believe me, not from curiosity nor inclination, but simply because I knew not how to refuse him. He is gone, however, and I will therefore relieve you by going too : but permit me to leave behind me a small testimony that the intention of my coming was not mere impertinence.” She then took out her purse ; but the young woman, starting back with a look of resentful mortification, CECILIA. 199 claimed, “ No, madam ! you are quite mistaken ; pray put up your purse ; I ana no beggar ! Mr. Albany has misrepresented me, if he has told you I am.” Cecilia, mortified in her turn at this unexpected rejec- tion of an offer she had thought herself invited to make, stood some moments silent; and then said, “ I am far from meaning to offend you, and I sincerely beg your pardon if I have misunderstood the charge just now given to me.” “ I have nothing to pardon, madam,'’ said she more calmly, “except, indeed, to Mr. Albany; and to him, »tis of no use to be angry, for he minds not what I say ; he is very good, but he is very strange, for he thinks the whole world made to live in common, and that every one who is poor should ask, and every one who is rich should give ; he does not know that there are many who would rather starve,” ■“ And are you,” said Cecilia, half-smiling, “ of that number?” No, indeed, Madam ! I have not so much greatness of mind. But those to whom I belong have more forti- tude and higher spirit. 1 wish 1 could imitate them.” Struck with the candour and simplicity of this speech, Cecilia now felt a waim desire to serve her, and taking her hand, said, “ Forgive me ; but though 1 see you wish me gone, I know not how to leave you : recollect, therefore, the charge that has been given to us both, and if you refuse my assistance one way, point out to me in what other 1 may offer it.” “ You are very kind, madam,” she answered, “ and I dare say you are very good ; 1 am sure you look so at least. But I want nothing; I do very well, and I have hopes of doing better. Mr. Albany is loo impatient. He knows, indeed, that 1 am not extremely rich, but he is nuich to blame it he supposes me therefore an object of charity, and thinks me so mean as to receive money from a stranger. “ I am truly sorry,” cried Cecilia, “ for the error 1 have committed, but you must suffer rne to make my peace with you before we part ; yet, .till I am better known to you, I am fearful of proposing terms. Perhaps you will permit me to leave you my direction, and do me the favour to call upon me yourself. 200 CECILIA. “ O no, madam ! X have a sick relation whom I can* not leave : and, indeed, if he were well, he would not like to have me make an acquaintance while I am in this place.” ** I hope you are not his only nurse ? I am sure you do not look able to bear such fatigue. Has he a physh cian ? Is he properly attended ?’’ ** No, madam, he has no physician, and no attendance at all !” “ And is it possible that in such a situation you can refuse to be assisted? Surely you should accept some help for him, if not for yourself.” “But what will that signify, when, if I do, he will not make use of it? and when he had a thousand and a thou* sand times rather die, than let any one know he is in want?” “ Take it then, unknown to him ; serve him without acquainting him you serve him. Surely you would not suffer him to perish without aid ?” “ Heaven forbid ! But what can I do ? ,I am under his command, madam, not he under mine.” “Is he your father? — —Pardon my question, but your youth seems much to want such a protector.” “ No, madam, I have no father I 1 was happier when I had ! He is my brother.^* “ And what is his illness ?” “ A fever.” “ A fever, and without a physician ! Are you sure, too, it is not infectious r” “ O yes, too sure !” “Too sure ? how so ?” “ Because I know too well the occasion of it !” “ And what is the occasion ?” cried Cecilia, again taking her hand, “ pray trust me ; indeed you shall not repent your confidence. Your reserve hitherto has only raised you in my esteem, but do not carry it so far as to mortify me by a total rejection of my good offices.” “ Ah, madam !” said the young woman, sighing, “ you ought to be good, I am sure, for you will draw all out of me by such kindness as this ? the occasion was a neg- lected wound, never properly healed.” CECILIA. 201 “ A wound! is he in the army?” “ No, — he was shot through the side in a duel.**’ “ In a duel !” exclaimed Cecilia, “ pray what is his name ?*’ “ O, that 1 must not tell you I his name is a great secret now, while he is in this poor place, for I know he bad al- most rather never see the light again than have it known.” “ Surely, surely,’* cried Cecilia, with much emotion, “ he cannot — I hope he cannot be Mr. Belfield I” “ Ah Heaven I” cried the young woman, screaming do you know him ?” Here, in mutual astonishment, they looked at each other. “ You are then,” said Cecilia, “ the sister of Mr. Bel- held r and Mr. Belfield is thus sick, his wound is not yet healed, — and he is without help !” “ And who, madam, are youf* cried she, “ and how is it you know him ?” “ My name is Beverley.” “ Ah !” exclaimed she again, “ I fear I have done no- thing but mischief! I know very well who’^you are now, madam ; but if my brother discovers that I have be- trayed him, he will take it very unkind, and perhaps never forgive me.” “ Be not alarmed,’’ cried Cecilia ; “ rest assured he shall never know it. Is he not now in the country ?” “ No, madam, he is now in the very next room ?” But what is become of the surgeon who used to at- tend him, and why does he not still visit him r*’ “ It is in vain, now, to hide any thing from you? my brother deceived him, and said he was going out of town merely to get rid of him." “ And what could induce him to act so strangely?’* “ A reason which you, madam, 1 hope, will never know. Poverty ! — he would not run up a bill he could not pay.” “ Good Heaven ! — but what can be done for him ? he must not be suffered to Unger thus; we must contrive some method of relieving and assisting him, whether he will consent or not.” “ I fear that will not be possible. One of his friends has VOL. I. 2 C 6 202 CECILIA. already found him out, and has written him the kindest letter! but he would not answer it, and would not see him, and was only fretted and angry.” “ Well,” said Cecilia, “ 1 will not keep you longer, lest he should be alarmed by your absence. To-morrow morning, with your leave, 1 will call upon you again, and then 1 hope you will permit me to make some effort to assist you ’’ “ If it only depended upon me, madam,” she answer- ed, “ now I have the honour to know who you are, I believe I should not make such scruple; for 1 was not brought up to notions so high as my brother. Ah! hap- py had it been for him, for me, for all his family, if he had not had them neither !’’ Cecilia then repeated her expressions of comfort and kindness, and took her leave. This little adventure gave her infinite concern ; all the horror which the duel had originally occasioned her, again returned ; she accused herself with much bitter- ness for liaving brought it on ; and finding that Mr. Bel- field was so cruelly a sufferer both in bis health and his af- fairs, she thought it incumbent upon her to relieve hitn to the utmost of her ability. His sister, too, had extremely interested her; her youth, and the uncommon artlessness of her conversa- tion, added to her melancholy situation, and the Ibveli- ness of her person, excited in her a desire to serve, and an inclination to love her; and she determined, if she found herai deserving as she seemed engaging, not only to assist her at present, but, if her distresses continued, to receive her into her own house in future. Again she regretted the undue detention of her 2001. What she now had to spare was extremely inadequate to what she now wished to bestow, and she looked forward to the conclusion of her minority with encreasing eager- ness. The generous and elegant plan of life she then in- tended to pursue, daily gained ground in her imagination, and credit in her opinion. CECILIA. 5203 CHAPTER IV. A MAN OF GENIUS. THE next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Cecilia went in a chair to Swallow-streel ; she enquired for Miss Belfield, and was told to go up stairs: but what was her amazement to meet, just coming out of therooin into which she was entering, young Delvile! They both started, and Cecilia, from the seeming strangeness of her situation, felt a confusion with which she had hitherto been unacquainted. But Delvile, pre- sently recovering his surprise, said to her, with an ex- pressive smile, “ How good is Miss Beverley thus to visit the sick ! and how much better might I have had the pleasure of seeing Mr^ Belfield, had I but, by pre- science, known her design, and deferred my own en- quiries till he had been revived by her’s !’’ And then bowing, and wishing her good morning, he glided past her. Cecilia, notwithstanding the openness and purity of her intentions, was so much disconcerted by this unex- pected meeting, and pointed speech, that she had not the presence of mind to call him back and clear herself; and the various interrogatories and railleries which had already passed between them upon the subject of Mr. Belfield, made her suppose that what he had tormerly sus- pected he would row think confirmed, and conclude that all her assertions of indifference, proceeded merely from that readiness at hypocrisy upon particular subjects, of which he had openly accused her whole sex. This circumstance and this apprehension took from her, for a while, all interest in the errand upon which she came; but the benevolence of her heart soon brought it back, when, upon going into the room, she saw her new favourite in tears. “ What is the matter!’' cried she, tenderly; “ no new alHictionl hope has happenedPYour brother is not worse?” “ No, madam, he is much the same ; I was not crying for him.” 204 CECILIA. “ For what then? tell me, acquaint me with your sor- rows, and assure yourself you tell them to a friend. “ I was crying, madam, to find so much goodness in the world, when I thought there was so little ! to find I have some chance of being again happy, when I thought I was miserable for ever ! Tw o w'holc years have 1 spent in nothing but unhappiness, and I thought there wag nothing else to be had ; hut yesterday, madam, brought me ^ou, with every promise of nobleness and protection ; and to-day a friend of my brother’s has behaved so gene* roiisly, that even my brother has listened to him, and al- most consented to be obliged to him !” “ And have you already knoNVn so much sorrow,” said Cecilia, “ that this little dawn of prosperity should wholly overpower your spirits ? Gentle, amiable girl • may the future recompence you for the past, and may Mr. Albany’s kind wishes be fulfilled in the recipretea* tion of our comfort and affliction.” They then entered into a conversation which the sweetness of Cecilia, and the gratitude of Miss Belfield, soon rendered interesting, friendly, and unreserved : and in a very short time, whatever was essential in the story or situation of the latter was fully communicated- ShegaVfe, however, a charge the most earnest,that her brother should never be acquainted with the confidence she had made. Her father, who had been dead only two years, was a linen-'draper in the city ; be had six daughters, of whom herself w'as the youngest, and only one son. This soft, Mr. Belfield, was alike the darlingof his father, inolhef, and sisters : he was brought up at Ea?lon, no expenCe was spared in his education, nothing was denied that could make him happy. With an excellent understanding he bad unconrinon quicknes.s of parts, and his progress in bis studies were rapid and honourable ; his father^ though he always meant him for his successor in his bu- siness, heard of bis improvements with rapture, often saying, My boy will be the ornamebt of the city, fae will be the best scholar in any shop in London.” He was soon, however, taught another lesson ; when, at the age of sixteen, he returned home, and was placed in the shop, instead of applying his talents, as his father hftd CECILIA, 205 expected, to trade, he both despised and abhorred the name of it : when serious, treating it with contempt, when gay, with derision. He was seized also with a most ardent desire to finish his education, like those of his school-fellows who left Eaton at the same time, atone of the universities: and, after many difficulties, this petition, at the intercession of his mother, was granted ; old Mr. Belfield telling him be hoped a little more learning would give him a little more sense, and that when he became a Jinishei student^ he would not only know the true value of business, but understand how to get money, and make a bargain, bet- ter than any man whatsoever within Temple-bar. These expectations equally short sighted were also equal- ly fallacious with the former, the son again returned, and returned, as his father had hoped, a finished student : but far from being more tractable, or better disposed for ap- plication to trade, his aversion to it now was more stubborn, and his opposition more hardy than ever. The young men of fashion with whom he had formed friendships at school, or at the university, and with whom, from the indulgence of his father, he was always able to vie in expeoce, and from the indulgence of nature to excel in capacity, earnest- ly saught the continuence of his acquaintance and courted and coveted the pleasure of his conversation ; but though he was now' totally disqualified for any other society, he lost all delight of their favour, from the fear they should discover his abode, and sedulously endeavoured to avoid even occasionally meeting them, lest any of his family, should at the same time approach him ; for of his family, though wealthy, worthy and independent, he was now so utterly ashamed, that the mortification the most cruel he could receive, was to be asked his address, or told he should be visited. Tired, at length, of evading the enquiries made by some, and forcing ffiint laughs at the detection made by others, he privately took a lodging at the west-end of the town, to which he thenceforward directed all his friends, and were, under various pretences, he contrived to spend the greatest part of his time. In all his expensive deceits and frolics, his mother was 206 CECILIA. his nfiver-failing confident and assistant ; for when she heard that the companions of her son were men of fash- ion, some born to titles, others destined to high stations, she concluded he was in the certain road to honour and profit, and frequently distressed herselt, without ever repining in order to enable him to preserve, upon equal terms, connexions which she believed so conducive to his future grandeur. In this wild and unsettled manner he passed some time, struggling incessantly against the authority of his father, privately abetted by his mother, and constantly aided and admired by his sisters ; till, sick of so desultory a way of life, he entered himself a volunteer in the army. How soon he grew tired of this cljange has already been related as well as his reconciliation with his fa- ther, and his becoming a student at ihe Temple : for hia father now grew as weary of opposing, as the young mao of being opposed. Here, for two or three years, he lived in happiness unin- terrupted; he extended his acquaintance among the great, by whom he was no sooner known than caressed and admired, and he frequently visited his family, which, though he blushed to own in public, he affectionately loved in private. His profession, indeed, was hut little in his thoughts, successive engagements occupying almost all his hours. Delighted with the favour of the world, and charmed to find his presence seemed the signal for enter- tainment, he soon forgot the uncertainty of his fortune, and the inferiority of his rank : the law grew' more and more fatiguing, pleasure became n^ore and more alluring, and, by degrees, he had not a day unappropriated to some party or amusement ; voluntarily consigning the few leisure moments his gay circle afforded him, to the indulgence of bis fancy in some hasty compositions in verse, which were handed about in manuscript, and which contributed to keep, him in fashion. Such was his situation at the death of his father ; a new scene was then opened to him, and for some time be hesitated what course to pursue. Old Mr. Belfield, though he lived in great affluence, left ^ See page 12. CECILIA. 207 DOt behind him any considerable fortune, afterthe portions of his daughters, to each of whom he bequeathed 20001. had been deducted from it. But his stock in trade was great, and his business was prosperous and lucrative. His son, how^ever, did not merely want application and fortitude to become his successor, but skill and know- ledge ; his deliberation, therefore, was hasty, and his re- solution improvident ; he determined to continue at the Temple hiinself, while the shop, which he could by no meaiis afford to l elinquisli, should be kept up by another name, and the business of it be transacted by an agent ; hoping thus to secure and enjoy its emoluments, without either the trouble or the humiliation of attendance. But this scheme, like most others that have their basis in, vanity, ended in riothing hut mortification and disappoint- ment, tfie stiop, which under old Mr. Belfield had been flourishing and successful, and enriched himself andallhis family, could now scarce ^support the expences of an indi- vidual. Without a master, without that diligent attention to its prosperity, which the interest of possession alone can give, and the authority of a principal alone can enforce, it quickly lost its fame for the excellence of its goods, and soon after its customers from the report of its declension. The produce, diminished every month ; he was surpris- ed, he was provoked ; he was convinced he was cheated, and that his affairs were neglected; but though be threatened from time to time to enquire into the state of the business, and investigate the cause of its decay, he felt himself inadequate to the task? and now first la- mented that early contempt of trade, which by prevent- ing his acquiring some knowledge of it while he had youth and opportunity, made him now ignorant what re- dress to seek, though certain of imposition and injury. But jet, however disturbed by alarming suggestions in his hours of retirement, no alteration was made in the general course of his life ; he was still the darling of his friends, and the leader in all parties, and still, though his income was lessened, his expences encreased. Such were his circumstances at the lime Cecilia first saw him at the house of 'Mr. Monckton : from which, two days after her arrival in town, he was himself sum- 208 CECILIA. moned, by an information that his agent bad suddenly left ihe kingdom. o The fatal consequence of this fraudulent elopement was immediate bankruptcy. His spirits, however, did not yet fail him ; as he had never been the nominal master of the shop, he escaped all dishonour from its ruin, and was satisfied to consign what remained to the mercy of the creditors, so that his own natiie should not appear in the Gazette. Three of his sisters were already extremely well mar- ried to reputable tradesmen ; the two elder o^ those who were yet single were settled with two of those who were married, and Henrietta, the youngest, resided with her mother, who had a comfortable annuity, and a small lioiise at Paddington, Berett tfjus through^vanity and imprudence of all tire long labours of his lather, he w as now compelled to think seriously of some actual method of maintenance ; since his mother though willing to sacrifice to him even the nou- rishment which sustained her, could do for him but little, and that little he had too much justice to accept. The law, even to the most diligent and successful, is extreme” ]y slow of profit, and whatever, from his connexions and abiiitit?s, might be hoped hereafter, at preasent required an expence which he was no longer able to support It remained then to try his influence with his friends among the great and the powerful. Ilis canvass proved extremely honourable ; everyone promised something, and all semed delighted to have at} opportunity of serving him. Pleased with finding the world so much better than report had made it, he now saw the conclusion of his difficulties in the prospect of a place at court. Belfield, with half the penetration with which he was gifted, would have seen in any other man the delusive idler ness ofexpectations no better founded; but though discernr meut teaches us the folly ot others, experience singly can teach us our own! he flattered himself that his friends had been more wisely selected than the friends of those vrho in similar circumstances, had been beguiled; and he suspect- ed not the fraud of his vanity, till he found his invi- CECILIA. 209 tations daily slacken, and that his time was at his own command. All his hopes now rested upon one friend and patron, Mr. Floyer, and uncle of J>ir Robert Floyer, a man of power in the royal household, with v^hoin he had lived in great intintacy, and \\ho at this period had the dispo- sal of a place which he solicited. The only obstacle that seemed in his way was tiorn Sir Robert himself, 'who warmly exerted his interest in favour of a friend of his own. Mr. Floyer, however, assured Belfield of the pre- ference, and only begged liis patience till he could find some opportunity of appeasing his nephew. And this was the state of his affairs at the time of his quarrel at the Opera house. Already declared opponents of each other. Sir Robert felt double wrarh that for him Cecilia should reject his civilities; while Be I held, suspect- ing he presumed upon his known dependence on his uncle to affront him, felt also double indignation at the haugh- tiness of his behaviour. And thus, slight as seemed to the world the cause of their contest, each had private mo- tives of animosity that served toptiiuulaie revenge. The very day after this duel, Air. Floyer wrote him word that he vvas now obliged, in common decency, to take part off his nephew, and therefore had already given the place to the friend he had recommended. This was the termuiaiion ot his hopes, and the signal of his ruin ! To the pain of his wound he became insen- sible, from the superior pain of this unexpected miscar- riage ; yet his pride still enabled liim to disguise his dis- tress, and to see all his biends whom this accident in- duced to seek him, while from the sprightliness he forced in order to conceal his anguinh, he appeared to them more lively and uiore entertaining than ever But these efforts, when lett to himself and to nature, only sunk him the dee[>er in sadness ; he b'Und an im- mediate change in his way of life vvas necessary, yet could not brook to make it in sight of tito-e with whom he had so long lived in all the brilliancy of equality, A high principle of honour which still, in the miot of his gay career, had remained uncorrupted, had scrupulously guarded him from running in debt, and therefore, though VOL. I. 2D () CECILIA. glO of little possessed, tbai little was strictly fhis own. He now published that he was going out of town for the benebt of purer air, discharged his surgeon, took a gay leave of his friends, and trusting no one with his secret but his servant, was privately conveyed to mean and cbeatp lodgings in Swallow -street. Here, shut up frort) every human being he had former- ly known, be purpiOBed to remain tiU he grew better,, taad then again to seek his fcwtune in the army. His present situation, however, wsas little calculated to contribute to his recovery ; the discission of the surgeoQ the precipitation of his re«iOval, the inconveniences ot bis lodgings, and the unfeasonable deprivation of long custo- mary indulgencies were unavoidable dis la,te disappointment preyed incessaah ly upon his mind, robbed him of rest, heigh tened bis fever, and reduced hitn by degrees to a state so low aful dangerous, that his servant, alanired for his life, secretly acquainted his mother with his illness and retreat. The mother, almost distracted by this iatelligeace^ in^ stantly vvith i>er daughter, flew to his lodgings. She wished to have taken him immediately to her house at Padding* ton, but he had siiflered too mudi from his first removal, that he would not consent to another. She would then bate called in a physician, but he refused even to see one, and she had too long given way to ail his desires and opinions^ to have now the force of mind for exerting the requisite authority of issuing her orders without consulting tiiffli She begged, she pleaded, indeed, and Henrietta j< inedin her entreaties; bot&ickness and vexation had not rendered him tame, though they made him sullen : he resisted tbeir prayers, and commonly silenced them by assurances that their opposition to the plan he had determined to pursue, only ifjflamed his fever, and retarded his recovery- Tiie motive of an obduracy .so cruel to his friends, was the fear of a detection w hich he thought not merely preju* dicial to his alfairs, but dishonourable to his character: for, without betraying any symptom of his distress, he had takeo ageoeral leave of his acquaintance, upon pretenceof going out of town, and he could ill endure to make a discovery which would proclaim his degradation and his deceit GECILIA. 211 Mr. Albany had accidentally broken' in upon him, by mistaking bis room for that of another siek person in the same house to whom his visit had' been intended ; but as be knew and reverenced that old' gentleman, he did not mnch repine at his intrusion. He was not so easy when the same discovery was made by young Delvile, who chanced to meet his servant in the street, enquiring concerning his master^s health, and sur- prieing from him its real state, followed him honoe ; where, soon certain of the change of his affairs by the change of his habitation, he wrote hin» a letter, in which after apo- logizing for his freedom, he warmly declared that no- thing could: make him so happy as being favoured with his commands, if, either through himself or his friends, he could be so fortunate as to do him any service. Bel field deeply mortified at this detection of his situa- tion, returned only a verbal answer of cold thanks, and desired he would not speak of his being in town, as he was not well enough to be seen. This reply gave almost equal mortification to young Delvile, who continued, however, to call at the door with enquiries how he went on, though he made no further attempt to see him. Belfield, softened at length by the kindness of this conduct, determined to admit him ; and he was just come from paying his first visit, when he was met by Cecilia upon the stairs. His stay with him had been short, and he had taken no notice either of his change of abode, or his pretence of go- ing into the country: he had talked to him only in general terms, and upon general subjects, till he arose to depart, and tiien here-urged his offers of service with so much openness and warmth, that Belfield, affected by his ear- nestness, promised be would see him again, and intimat- ed to his delighted mother and sister, that he would frankly consult with him upon his affairs. Such was the tale w hich, with various minuter circum- stances, Miss Belfield communicated to Cecilia. “ My mother,” she added, “ who never quits him, knowes that you are here, madam, for she heard me talking' wifhi somebody yesterday, and she made me tell her 212 CECILIA. all that had passed, and that you said you would COine again this morning.” Cecilia returned njany acknowledgements for this art- less and unreserved communication, but could not, when it was over, forbear enquiring bv what early misery she had already, though so very young, spent ?/car5 nothing hut wihappinessf “Because,” she answered, “when my poor father died, all our family separated, and I left every body' to go and live with mv mother at Paddington : and 1 vvas never a favourite with my motlier.— -no more, indeed, was any body but iuy brother, lor she thinks all the rest of the world only made tor his use. So she used to deny both her- self and me almost common necessaries, in order to save up money to make him presents; though, if he liad known how it was done, he would only have been angry instead of taking them. However, 1 should have regarded no- thing that had been lor bis benefit, for I loved him a great deal more than my own convenience; but sums that would distress us for months to save up, would by him be spent in a day, and then thought ot no more ! Nor was that all O no! I had much greater uneasiness to suflfe/ I for 1 was infor med by one of my brother’s-in- law how ill every thing went, and that certain ruin would come to my poor brother from the treachery of his agent; and the thought of this was always preying upon my mind, for J did not dare tell it my mother, for fear it should put her out of humour, for, sometimes, she is not very patient; and it mattered little what any of us said to mv brother, for he wa.s too gay and too r(,nfident to believe his danger.” “ Well, but, ’ said Cecilia, “ I hope, now, all will go better ; if your brother w ill consent to see a physician — ” “Ah, madam ! that is the thing 1 fear he never will do, because of being seen in these had lodgings. I would kneel whole days to prevail with him, but he is unused to controul, and knows not how to submit to it ; and he has lived so long among the great, that he forgets that' he was not born as high as themselves. Oh that he had never quitted his own family ! If he had not been spoilt by ambition, he had the best heart and sweetest disposition in the world. But liv ing al ways w ith his superiors, taught' CECILIA. 213 him to disdain his own relations, and be ashamed of us all ; and yet now, in the hour of his distress who else comes to help him ?”' Cecilia then enquirer! if she vvanted not assistance for herself and her mother, observing that they did not seem to have all the conveniences to which they were entitled. “ Why indeed, madam,” she replied, with an ingenu- ous smile, “ w hen you first came here I was a little like my brother, tor 1 was sadly ashamed to let you see how ill we lived ! but now you know the worst, so I shall fret about it no more. “ But this cannot be your usual way of life ; I fear the misfortunes of Mr. Belfield have spread a ruin wider than his own.” “ No, indeed ; he took care from the first not to in- volve us in his hazards, for he is very generous, madam, and very noble in all his notions, and could behave to us all; no better about money matters than he has ever done. But from the moment we came to this dismal place, and saw his distress, and that he was sunk so low who used always to be higher than any of us, we had a sad scene indeed! My poor mother, whose whole delight was to think that he lived like a nobleuian, and who always flat- tered herself ili.it he would rise to be as great as the Company he kept, was so distracted with her disappoint- ment, that she would not listen to reason, but immedi- ately discharged both our servants, said she and I should do all the work ourselves, hired this poor room for us to live in, and sent to order a bill to be put upon her house at Paddington, for she said she would never return to it any more.” “ But are you then,,” cried Cecilia, “ without any ser- vant ?” ‘•We have my brother's man, madam, and so he lights our fires, and takes away some of our litters, and there is not much else to be done, except sweeping the rooms, for we eat noihing but cold meat from tl)e cook-shops.” “ And how lotig is this to last."” “Jlndeed, I cannot tell ; for the real truth is, my poor mother has almost lost her senses ; and ever since our cominghere,she has been so miserable and so complaining, that indeed; between her and my broiiier, 1 have almost £14 CECILIA. lost mine too ! For when she found all her hope» at m end, and that her darling son, instead of l^eing rich and powerful, and surrounded by friends and admirers, all trying who should do the most for him, was shut wp, by himself in this poor little lodging, and instead of gaining more, had spent all he was worth at first, with not a ereature to come near him, though ill, though confined, though keeping his bed ! — Oh madam, had' you seen my poor mother when she first cast her eyes upon him in that condition !— indeed you could never have lorgolteii k!” “ 1 wonder not at her disappointment,” cried Ceeifia^ “ with expectations so sanguine, and a son of so much merit, it might well indeed be bitter.” “Yes, and besides the disappointment, she i-s now con* tinually reproaching herself for always complying with his humours, and assisting him to appear bcitier than the rest of his family, though my father nev^r approved her doing so. But she thought herself so sure of bis risings that she believed we should all thank her for it in» the And she always used to say, that he was born to be a gentleman, and what a grievous thing it would be to hwe him made a tradesman.” “ I hope, at least, she has not the additional misery of seeing him ungrateful for her fondness, however injudi^ cious 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 encouragenaent, 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 brother knows this, though he w'iil not tell it her, and therefore she .says that unless be gets well she will punish herself all ll)e rest of her life, and never go back to her house, and never hire another servant, and never eat any tiling but bread, nor drink any thing but water 1” “ Poor unhappy woman!’ cried Cecilia, “ how dearly does she pay for her imprudent and short-sighted indul- gence ! 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 CECILIA. 215 for the world; I should think myself wicked indeed to leave her rmw. Besides, I don’t at all repine at the lit- tle 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, ] must own 1 used often to think it unfair, and if I had not loved him dearly, 1 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 i>y the fear of offending, or of being again re- fused ; siie had, however, devised a private ischeme for lerving 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 mis- placed, and promising again to see her soon, reluctantly departed. CHAPTER V. AN EXPEDIENT,' the scheme now projected by Cedlia, was to ac- quaint the surgeon uho had already attended Mr. Bel- ^eld 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. Bel field ig- norant to whom they were indebted. She was aware, in- deed, that whatever might be her management, that high fepirited and unfortunate young man would be extremely hurt to find himself thus detected and pursued ; hut she thought his life too well worth preserving to let it be sa- crificed to hia pride, and her interaal conviction of being 210 CECILIA. herself the immediate cause of its present danger, gave her an anxious and restless desire to be herself the means of extricating him from it. Uupil, the name of the surgeon, she had already heard mentioned bv Mr. Aroott, and in getting into her chair, she ordered Ralph, her man, to enquire w here he lived. “I know already where he lives, madam,” answered Ralph, ‘‘for I saw iri- name over a door in C’avendish- street, Oxford-road ; 1 took pai liitular notice of it, be- cause it was at tim hoiise where you stood up that day on account of the mob that was waiting to see the male- factors go to Tyburn.” This answer unravelled to Cecilia a mystery which had Jong perpiext her ; for the speeches of young Delvile, when he Ijad surprised her in that situation, v\ere now fully explained. In seeing her come out ol tlie surgeons house, he had naturally concluded she bad only entered it to ask news of his patient, Mr Belfield ; her protes- tations of merely standing up to avoid the crowd, he had only laughed at ; and his hints at her reserve and dissi- mulation, were meant to reproach her for refusing his offer of procwring her intelligence, "at the very time when, to all appearance, she anxiou^ly, 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 autliorise ail suspicions of her partiality for him : and even if any doubt had yet rentained, the un'ucky meeting upon the stairs at his lodgings, wouiil not fail to dispel it, and confirm the notion of her secret regard. She hoped, however, to soon have s without receiving any recompence but the plea- sure of serving a gentleman who is so much beloved.” Cecilia, charmed at this unhoped for success, was mak- ing further enquiries into what had passed, when Mrs. Hill, in a low voice, said, “ There’s the gentleman, ma- dam, who was with Mr. Rupil when 1 gave him the letter. I had a notion he was dodging me all the way I came, for I saw him just bel)ind 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 w'indow. 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 ano- ther attack, and further raillery, similar to what she bad already received from him : but as soon as he made his purchase, he bowed to her again, and, without speaking left the shop. A silence so unexpected at once astonished and dis- turbed her; -he again desired to hear all that had passed at Mr. Rupil’s, and from the relation gathered that Del- vile had himself undertaken to be responsible for his at- tendance 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 CECILIA. 219 him. She had no doubt he had immediately concluded she was the author of the application to the surgeon, and that he followed her messenger merely to ascert in the fact; while his siler.ce, when he had made the discovery, she could only atcrihute to his now believing that her regard for Mr. Belfield was too serious for raillery. Doubly, however, she rejoiced at the genero.sity of Mr. Rupil, as it rendered- wholly unnecessary her further in- terference : for she now saw with some alarm the danger to which benevolence itself, directed towards a youthful object, might expose her. CHAPTER VI. A REMONSTRANCE. CECILIA returned home so late, that she was sum- moned 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 sur- prise, said, “ ll you have such freaks as these, Miss Be- verley, 1 must begin to enquire a little more into your proceedings.” “ That, sir,” said Cecilia, very coldly, “ would ill re- pay your trouble.” “ When we get her to Violet Dank,” cried Mr. Har- rel, “ 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.” “Aye, Sir Robert,” cried Mrs. Harrel, “you know I alway^ advised you not to be quite so easy, and 1 am sure I really think you deserve a little severity, for not being more afraid.” “ Afraid of what, madam ?’’ cried the baronet : “ ofa young lady’s walking out without me? Do you think I wish to be any restraint upon Miss Beverley’s time in a 220 CECILIA. it)oi’ning« while 1 have the happintes 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 in 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 iniimaiion of coming to the bouse for the happimn of tvniting upon her^ made her determine, without losinga moment, to seek herself an explanation with him; whkc the discovery that he was included in the Easter party, which vaiious other concomitant causes had already ren- dered disagreeable to her, made her look forward to that purposed expedition with nothing but unwillingness and distaste. Btttv 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 ofSciousness too obvious to pass for chance, eoftstantlv stopt the progress of any discourse in which he did not himself bear a part. A more passionate ad- mirer might not have been so easily defeated t but Sir Ro- bert, too proud for solicitation, and too indolent for tosi- duity, was very soon checked, because very soon wearied, The whole evening, therefore, to her infinite mortifica- tion, passed away without affording her any opportunity of making known to him his mistake^ Her next effort wan to remOBstrate. with Mr. Harnel himself ; but thisscheiwe was not more easy of execution than tile other, since Mr. Harrel, suspecting she jueant again (o dun him for the money, avoided all separate conversation with lor so sktlfnlly, that she could not^Aod 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 w ell, and covdd not talk gravely. Cecilia, justly offended with them all, ibad now no re* source but in Mr, Monckton, whose counsel fc*r effec- CECILIA. 221 tttally 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 impropri- ety 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, as- SHring 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 re- fute this opinion, which she regarded as proceeding ra- ther from prejudice than justice ; but when she mention- ed that the baronet was invited to spend the Easter ho- lidays 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 pre- remptorily refuse to go to Violet-Bank yourself. If, after what has past you are included in the same party ■with Sir Robert, you give a sanction yourself to the re- ports 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 connexion is believed in the world, frequently, if not generally, leads by imperceptible degrees to its real rati- fication.” 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 sa- tisfaction, happy in his power over her mind, and anti- cipating 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, w'hich was to take place in two days time, she mentioned the next. morning her design of spending the holidays in town, CECILIA. 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 vras subsided.into indifference, but that, since she had en- deavoured to abridge her amusements, she regarded her as a spy, and dreaded her as the censor of her conduct. Meanwhile Mr. Arnott, who was pre.sent, though he interfered not in the debate, waited the event with anx- 'iety : naturally hoping her objections arose from her dis- like 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 rea- sons 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 per- sisted 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 verv favourable to Sir Robert but a short time •/ V ago, and so, I dare say, you will be again, when you have seen more of him.” “ Yon amaze me, sir !” cried Cecilia, “ when was 1 favourable to him? Has he not always and regularly been my aversion ?’ “ 1 fancy,” answered Mr. Harrel, laughing, “ you will not easily persuade him to think so; vour behaviour at the Opera-house was ill-calculated to give him that tmtion.” “ 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 CECILIA. 223 Bate if I say they can only be aCirifaiited to your unwilling- ness to refnove them. I entreat yon, therefore, to trifle with him no longer, nor tb* subject me aga'in'^to the free- dom of implications extremely disagreeable to me.” “ O Be, Be. Miss Beverley ! after, all'thal has passed, after his long ex pectations and his constant attendance, you cannot for a moment think seriously of discarding him.” Cecilia, equally surprised and provoked by this speech, could not lor 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 Eng- land 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 re- sentment, “ No, bir,’^ she cried, “ this must* not pass ! my positive rejection of Sir Robert the injrtant you com- municated to me his proposals you can neither have for- gotten nor mistaken : and you must not wonder if I ac* knowledge myself extremely disobliged by your unac- countable 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 witlj 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 preposter- ous an opimon. Pray hear me, however, finally, and pray tell Sir liobert ” “No, no,” interrupted he, with affected gaiety, “you shall manage it all your own way ; 1 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 be- haviour, that instead of returning to the family, she went directly toiler own room. It was easy for her to see that Mr. Harrel was bent upon using every method he could 224 CECILIA. devise, to entangle her into some engagement with Sir Robert, and though she could not imagine the meaning of such a scheme, the Httieness of his behaviour,' excited her contempt, and the long-coo tioued errors of the ba* ronet gave her the utmost uneasiness. She again deter- mined to seek an explanation with him herself, and im- moveably to refuse joining the party to Violet- Bank. The following day, while the ladies and Mr. Areott were at breakfast, Mr. Harrel came into the room to enquire if they should all be ready to set off f<»r his villa by ten o’clock the next day. Mrs. Harret and her bra- tter answered in the affirmative ; but Cecilia was end he turned to her and repeated his question. “ Do you think -me sO capricious, sir,” said 'she, after telling you but yesterday 1 could not be of yow party, I shall tell you to-day that I can?” “ Why you do not really mean to remain in town 4^ yourself!” replied he, “ you cannot suppose that will be an eligible plan for a young lady. On the coi^Wary, it will be so very improper, that I think wyse If, as ywr guardian, obliged to oppose it.” Amazed at this auihorilative speech, 'Cecilia lookoli ’at him with a mixture of mortification and ajuger ; give me entertainment, and even of those few, the chief part have in their uianners, si- tuation or characters an unfortunate something ^ that gene- rally renders a near connexion with them inconvenint or disagreeable. These are indeed so many draw-backs to regard and intimacy, from pride, from propriety, and va- rious other collateral causes, that rarely as we meet with VOL. I. 2 F 6 226 CECILIA. People of brilliant parts» there is almost ever some objec- tion to our desire of meeting them again. Yet to live wholly alone is cheerless and depressing; and vyth you, at least/’ taking Cecilia's hand, “ I find not one single obstacle to oppose to a thousand inducements, which in- vite 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 bier whether it Would be possible for her to give it up. She instantly answered in the affirmative. “ And would you really be so obliging,” cried ^drs. Delvile, with some surprise, “ as to bestow upon me the time you had destined for this gay excursion ?” “ Most willingly,’’ answered Cecilia, “ if you are so good as to vvish it." “ But can you also for you must by no means re- main alone in Portman-square, manage to live en- tirely in my house till Mr. Harrel’s return ?” To this proposal, which was what she most desired, Cecilia gave a glad assent; and Mrs. Delvile, extreme- ly pleased vvith her compliance, promised to have an apartment prepared for her immediately. She then hastened home to announce her new plan. This she took occasion to do when the family was as- sembled at dinner. The surprise vvith which she was heard was very general ; Sir Robert seemed at a loss what conclusion to draw from her information; Mr. Arnott was half elated with pleasure, and half depressed with apprehension ; Mrs. Harrel wondered without any other sensation ; and Mr. Harrel himself was evidently the most concerned of the party. Every effort of persuasion and importuiiily he now essayed to prevail upon her to give up this scheme, anct still accompany them to the villa ; but she coolly answer- ed that her engagement with Mrs. Delvile was decided, and she had appointed to wait upon her the next morning. When her resolution was found so steady, a general ill- humour took place of surprise ; Sir Robert had now the CECILIA. 227 air of a man who thought himself affronted ; Mr. Arnott was wretched from a thousand uncertainties; Mrs. Harrel indeed was still the most indifferent ; but Mr. Ijarrel could hardly repress his disappointment and anger. Cecilia, however, was all gaiety and pleasure : in re- moving only from the house of one guardian to another, she knew she could not be opposed ; and the flattering readiness with which Mrs. Delvile had anticipated her request without enquiring into her motives, had relieved her from a situation which now grew extremely distress- ing, without giving to her the pain of making complaints of Mr. Harrel. The absence of Mr. Delvile contributed to her happiness, and she much rejoiced in having now the prospect of a speedy opportunity to explain to his son whatever had appeared mysterious in her conduct re- specting Mr. Belfieid. If she had any thing to regret, it was merely the imossibilily, at this time, of waiting for the counsel of Mr. Monckton. The next morning, w'hile the family was in the midst of preparation for departure, she took leave of Mrs. Harrel who faintly lamented the loss of her company, and then hastily made her complaints to Mr. Harrel and Mr. Arnott, and putting herself into a chair, was con- veyed to her new habitation. Mrs. Delvile received her with the most distinguished politeness ; she conducted her to the apartment which had been prepared for her, led her to the library, which she desired her to make use of as her own, and gave her the most obliging charges to remember that she was in a house of which she had the command. Young Delvile did not make his appearance till dinner time, Cecilia, from recollecting the strange situations in which she had lately been seen by him, blushed extreme- ly when she first met his eyes ; but finding him gay and easy, general in his conversation, and undesigning in his looks, she soon recovered from her embarrassment, and passed the rest of the day without restraint or uneasiness. Every hour she spent with Mrs. Delvile contributed to raise in her esteem the mind and understanding of that lady. She found, indeed, that it was not for nothing she was accused of pride, but she found at the same time so j^8 CECILIA. many excellent qualities, so much true dignity of roioA and so noble a spirit of liberality, that however great was the respect she seemed to demand, it was always inferior to what she felt inclined to pay. Nor was young Delvile less rapid in the progress he made in her favour, his cliaracter, upon every opportunity of shewing it, rose in her opinion, and hi& disposition and manners had a mingled sweetness and vivacity that ren- dered his society attractive, and his conversation spirited Here, therefore, Cecilia experienced that happiness she had so long coveted in vain : her life was neither public nor private, her amusements were neither dissipated nor retired ; the company she saw were either people of high rank or strong parts, and their visits were neither frequent nor long. The situation she quilted gave a xest to that into which she entered, lor she was now no longer shocked by extravagance or levity, no longer tormented with address ses which disgusted her, nor mortified by the ingratitude of the friend she had endeavoured to serve. All was smooth and serene, yet lively and interesting. Her plan, however, of clearing to young Delvile his mistakes concerning Belbeld, she could not put in execu- tion ; for he now never led to the subject, though he was frequently alone with her, nor seemed at all desirous to renew his former raillery, or repeat his enquiries. She wondered at this change in him, but chose rather to wait the revival of his own curiosity, than to distress or pe^ plex herseifby contriving methods of explanation. Situated thus happily, she had now only one only anxK ety, which was to know whether, and in what manner. Mr. Belfield had received his surgeon as well as the actual state of his own and his sister saffairs ; but the fear of again etl'r countering young Delvile in suspicious circumstances, deterred her at present from going to tlieir house. Yet her natural benevolence, which partial convenience never lulled to sleep, impressing her with au apprehension that her services might be wanting, she was induced to write to Miss Belfield, though she forbore to visit her. Her letter was short, hut kind, and to the purpose: she apologized for her officiousness, desired to know if her brother was better, and entreated her, in tenues the CECILIA. 229 most delicate, to acquaint her if yet she would accept from her any assistance. She sent this letter by her servant, who, after waiting a considerable lime, brought her the following answer ; — TO MISS BEVERLEY. “ Ah madam ! your goodness quite melts me ! we want nothing, however, yet ; though I feer we shall not say so much longer. But though 1 hope I shall never for- get myself so as to be proud and impertinent, I will rather struggle with any hardship than beg, for 1 will not dis- oblige my poor brother by any fault tliat I can help espe- cially now he is fallen so low-. But thank Heaven, his wound has at last been dressed, for the surgeon has found him out, and he attends him for nothing ; though my brother is willing to part with every thing he is worth in the world, rather than owe that obligation to him : yet I often wonder how he hates so to be obliged, for when he was rich himself, he was always doing some- thing to oblige other people. But I fear the surgeon thinks him very bad ! for he won’t speak to us when we follow him down stairs. “ I am sadly ashamed to send this bad writing, but 1 dare not ask my bro'her for any help, because he would only be angry that 1 wrote any thing abouthim at all ; but indeed I have seen too little good come of pride to think of imitating it : and as 1 have not his genius, 1 am sure there is no need I should have his defects : ill, therefore, as 1 write, you, madam, who have so much goodness and gentleness, would forgive it, 1 believe, if it was worse, almost. And though w e are not in need of your kind of- fers, it is a great comfort to me to think there is a lady in the world that, if we come to be quite destitute, and if the proud heart of my poor unhappy brother should be quite broke down, will look upon our distress with pity, and generously help ns from quite sinking under it. I remain, madam, “ with the most humble respect, “ your ever most obliged V humble servant, “HENRIETTA BELf lELD 230 CECILIA. Cecilia much moved by the simplicity of this letter de- termined that her very first visit from Portman-squarft should be its fair and innocent ‘Writer. And having now an assurance that she was in no immediate distress, and that her brother was actually under Mr. Rupil’s care, she dismissed from h*er mind the only subject of uneasiness that at present had endeavoured to disturb it, and gave herself wholly up to the delightful serenity of unalloyed happiness. Few are the days of unmixed felicity which we acknow- ledge while we experience, though many are those wede- .plOre, when by sorrow taught their value, and by misfor- tune, their loss. Time wiih Cecilia now glided on with such rapidity, that before she thought the morning half over, the evening w as closed, and ere she w as sensible tire first week was past, the second was departed for ever. More and more pleased with the inmates of her new habi- tation she found in the abilities of Mrs. Delvile sources in- exhaustible of entertainment, and in the disposition and sentiments of herson something so concordant to her own, that almost every word he spoke shewed the sympathy of their minds, and almost every look which caught her eyes was a reciprocation of intelligence. Her heart deep- ly wounded of‘ late by unexpected indifterence, and un- deserved raortilication, was now, perhaps, more than usually susceptible of those penetrating and exquisite pleasures w hich frindshipand kindness possess the higheit powers of bestowing. Easy, gay, and airy, she only rose to happiness, and only retired to rest ; and not merely heightened was her present enjoyment by her past dis- appointment, but carrying her retrospection to her earliest remembrance, she still found her actual situation more peculiarly adapted to her taste and temper, than any she had liitherto at any time experienced. The very morning that the destined fortniglu was elapsed, she ‘received a note from Mrs. Harrel, with information of her arrival in town, and an entreaty that she would return to Portman-square. Cecilia, vvho, thus happy, had forgot to mark the pro- gre.ss of tiiiie, was now all amazement to find the term of her absence so soon past. She thought of going back with the utmost reluctance, and of quitting her new abode CECILIA. 231 with the most lively regret. The representations of Mr* Monckton daily lost their force, and notwithstanding her dislike to Mr. Delvile, she had no wish so earnest as thatof being settled in his family for the rest of her minority. To effect this was her next thought ; yet she knew not how to make the proposal ; but from the uncommon par- tiality of Mrs. Delvile she hoped, with a very little en- couragement, she would lead to it herself. Here, however, she was disappointed ; Mrs. Delvile, when she heard of the summons from the Harrels, ex- pressed her sorrow at losing her in terms of the most flattering regret, yet seemed to think the parting indis- pensable, and dropped not the most distant hint of at- tempting to prevent it. Cecilia, vexed and disconcerted, then made arrange- ments for her departure, which she fixed for the next morning. The rest of this day, unlike every other which for the last fortnight had preceded it, was passed with little ap- pearance, and no reality of satisfaction ; Mrs. Delvile was evidently concerned, her son openly avowed his chagrin, and Cecilia felt the utmost mortification ; yet, though every one was discontented, no effort was made towards obtaining any delay. The next morning during breakfast, Mrs. Delvile very elegantly thanked her for granting to her so much of her time, and earnestly begged to see her in future whenever she could be spared from her other friends ; protesting she was now so accustomed to her society, that she should require both long and frequent visits to soften the sepa- ration. This request was very eagerly seconded by young Delvile, who warmly spoke his satisfaction that his mother had found so charming a friend, and unaf- fectedly joined in her entreaties that the intimacy might be still more closely cemented. Cecilia had no great difficulty in according her compli- ance to those demands, of which the kindness and cordi- ality somewhat lessened her disturbance at the parting. When Mrs. Harrel’s carriage arrived, Mr. Delvile took a most affectionate leave of her, and her son at- tended her to the coach. 232 CECILIA, In her way down stairs* he stopt her for a few mo* rnenis, and in some confusion said, “ I wish much to apologize to Miss Beverly, before her departure, for the very gross mistake of which 1 have been guilty. I know not if it is possible she can pardon me, and I hardly know myself by what perversity and blindness 1 persisted so long in my error.” “ O,” cried Cecilia, much rejoiced at this voluntary explaination, “ if yon are but convinced you were really in an error, 1 have nothing more to wish. Appearances, indeed, were so strangely against me, that 1 ought not, perhaps to wonder they deceived you.” ‘‘ This is being candid indeed,” answered he, again leading her on : ” and jn truth, though your anxiety was obvious, iti cause Was obscure, and where any thing is left to conjectuie, oppinion interferes, and the jdugtneflt is easily watped. My own partiality, however, for Mr. Belfield, will ] hope plead my excuse, as from that, and not from any prejudice against the baronet, my mistake arose: on the contrary, so highly 1 respect your taste and your discernment, that your approbation, when known, can scarcely fail of securing mine.” Great as w as the astorrishment of Cecilia at the con- clusion of this speech, she w as at the coach-door before she could make any answer; but Delvile, perceiving her surprize, added, while he handed her in, “ Is it possible but no it is not possible I should be again mistaken, I forbore to speak at ail, till 1 had information by which I could not be misled.” “I know not in what unaccountable obscurity,” cried Cecilia, “ I, or my affairs, may be involved, l)ut I per- ceive that the cloud which I had hoped was dissipated, is thicker and more impenetrable than ever.” Delvile then bowed to her with a look that accused her of insincerity, and the carriage drove away. Teased by tliese eternal mistakes, and provoked to find that though the object of Iter supposed partiality was so frequently changed, the notion of her positive engagement w-irh one of the duellists w'as invariable, she resolved, with all the speed in her power, to commission Mr. Moticklon wait upon Sir Robert Fioyer, and in her own name gire CECILIA. a formal rejection to his proposals, arid desire him thence- forward to make known, by ever opportunity, their total independence of each other ; for sick of debating with Mr. Harrel, and detesting all intercourse with Sir Robert, she how' dropt her design of seeking an explanation herself. She was received by Mrs. Harrel with the same cold- ness with which she had parted from her. That lady appeared now to have some uneasiness upon her mind, and Cecilia endeavoured to draw from her its cause ; but far from seeking any alleviation in friendship, she studiously avoided her, seeming pained by her conversa- tion, and reproached by her sighf. Cecilia perceived this eiicreacing reserve with much concern, but with noore indignation, conscious that her good offices had merited a better reception, and angry to find that her advice had not merely failed of success, but even expos- ed her to aversion. Mr. Harrel, on the contrary, behaved to her with unu- sual civility, seemed eager to oblige her, and desirous to render his house more agreeable to her than ever. But in this he did not prosper ; for Cecilia immediately upon her return, looking in her apartment for the projected alterations, and finding none had been made, was so dis- gusted by such detection of duplicity, that he sunk yet lower than before in her opinion, and she repined at the necessity she was under of any longer continuing his guest. The joy. of Mr. Arnotl at again seeing her, was visible and sincere ; and not a little was it encreased by finding that Cecilia, who sought not more to avoid Mr. Harrel and Sir Robert, than she was herself avoided by Mrs. Harrel, talked with pleasure to nobody else in the house, and scarcely attempted to conceal that he was the Otily one of the family who possessed any portion of her es-^ teem. Even Sir Robert appeared now to have formed a de- sign of paying her rather more respect than he had hither- to thought necessary ; but the violence he did himself was so evident, and his imperious nature seemed so repug- nant to. the task, that his insolence, breaking forth by starts, and checked only by compulsion, was but the more conspicuous from his inadequate efforts to disguise it. VOL. I. 2 G 6 234 eECILIA. CHAPTER VIII. A COMPLAINT. AS Cecilia now found herself cleared, at least of all suspicions, of harbouring too tender a regard for Mr. Belfield, her objections to visiting his sister were remov- ed, and the morning after her return to Mr. Harrel’s she went in a chair to Swallow-street. She sent her servant up stairs to enquire if she might be admitted, and was immediately taken into the room where she had twice before been received. In a fiew minutes Miss Belfield, softly opening and shutting the door of the next appartment, made her ap- pearance. She looked thin and pale, but much gratified by the sight of Cecilia. “ Ah madam !” she cried, “you are good indeed not to forget us ! and you can little think how it cheers and consoles me, that such a lady as you can condescend to be kind to me. It is quite the only pleasure that I have now in the whole world.” “ I grieve that you have no greater,” cried Cecilia; “ you seem much fatigued and harrassed. How is your brother ? I fear you neglect your own health, by too much attention to his.” “ No indeed, madam ; my mother does every thing for him herself, and hardly suffers any body else to go near him.” “ What, then, makes you so melancholy ?” said Ce- cilia, taking her hand, “you do not look well; your anxiety, I am sure, is too much for your strength.” “ How should 1 look well, madam,” answered she, “ living as, I live.? however, I will not talk of myself, but of my brother. O, he is so ill ! indeed, 1 am sadly, sadly afraid, he will never be well again !” “ What does his surgeon say ? you are too tender, and too much frightened, to be any judge.” “ It is not that I think myself he will die of his wound, for Mr. Rupil says the wound is almost nothing ? but he is in a constant fever, and so thin and so weak, that in- deed it is almost impossible he should recover!” “ You are too apprehensive,” said Cecilia; “you CECILIA. 236 know not what effect the country air may have upon him : there are many, many expedients, that with so young a man may yet be successful.’* j| O no, the country air can do nothing for him ! for 1 will not deceive you, madam, for that would be doubly a fault when 1 am so ready in blaming other people for wearing false appearances : besides you are so good and so gentle, that it quite composes me to talk with you. So I will honestly speak the truth, and the whole truth at once; my poor brother is lost ! — O 1 fear for ever lost! — all by his own unhappy pride! he forgets his father was a tradesman, he is ashamed of all his family, and his whole desire is to live among the grandest people, as if he belonged to no other. And now that he can no longer do that, he takes the disappointment so to heart that he cannot get the better of it: and he told me this morning that he wished he w%s dead, for he did not know' why he should live only to see bis own ruin ! But when he saw how 1 cried at his saying so, he was very sorry indeed, for he has always been the kindest brother in the world, when he has been away from the great folks who have spoilt him. But why, said he, Henrietta, why would you have me live, when instead of raising you and my poor mother into an higher station, I am sunk so low that 1 only help to consume your own poor pittances to sup- port me in my disgrace t” “ I am sorry indeed,” said Cecilia, “ to find he has so deep a sense of the failure of his expectations ; but how happens it that you are so much wiser ? Young and inex- perienced as you are, and early as you must have been accustomed, from your mother as well as from Mr. Bel- iield, to far other doctrine, the clearness of your judg- ment, and the justness of year remarks, astonish as much as they charm me.” “ Ah, madam ! brought up as I have been brought up, there is little wonder I should see the danger of an high education, let me be ever so ignorant of every thing else ; for I, and all my sisters, have been the sufferers the whole time ; and while we were kept backward that he might be brought forward, while we were denied comforts that he might have luxuries, how could we help seeing the evil of CECILIA. so much vanity, and wishing we had all been brought up according to our proper station ! instead of living in con- tinual inconvenience, and having one part of a family ftruggling with distress, only to let another part of it ap- pear in a way ue tmd no rii,Ul to !” “ flow rationally," said Cecilia, “ have you consider- ed this subject ! and how ujuch do I honour you for theafiection you retain toi your hiother, notwithstanding the wrongs you have suffered to promote hi-' elevation r Indeed ne deserves it ; take but trom him that one fault, pride, and I believe he "has not another ; and hu- moured and darling c hild as from his infancy he has al- ways been, who can at that wonder, or be angry ?” ' “ And has he still no plan, no scheme, for his future destination ?” ' ** No, madam, none at all ; and that it is makes him so miserable, and being so miserable makes him so ill; for Mr. iiupil says, that with such uneasiness upon his mind he can never, in his present low state, get w ell. O, it is melancholy to see bow he is altered ! and bow he has lost all his hne spirits! he that used to be the life of us alll- And now be hardly ever speaks a word, or if he does, be says something so sorrowful that it cuts us to the soul! But yesterday, when my molht r and 1 thought he was asleop he lifted up his head, and looked at us both with the tears in his eyes, which almost broke our hearts to see, and then, in a low voice, he said, ‘ What a lingering illness is this I Ah mv dear mother, you and poor Henrietta ought to wish it quicker over 1 for should 1 recover, my life, hereafter, will but linger like this illness.’ And after- wards he called out, ‘ What o« earth is to become of me? I shall never have health for ilie army, nor interest, nor means ? what am I to do ? subsist in the very prime of my life upon the bounty of a widow ed moiher ! or, with such an education, .'■uch connexions as mine, enter at last into some mwn to answer by this pretended zeal for Sir Robert; nor is it difficult to conjecture what they may be. f rindship, in a man of his light cast, is a mere coyer, a mere name, to conceal a connexion which has its basis solely in the licentious convenience of borrowing money, going to the same gaming house, and mutually commu- nicating and boasting their mutual vices and intrigues, while, all the time their regard for each other is equally hollow with their regard for truth and integrity. He then cautioned her to be extremely careful with respect to any money transactions with Mr. Harrel, whose splendid extravagance he assured her was univer- sally known to exceed his fortune. The countenance of Cecilia, during this exhortation, was testimony sufficient to the penetrating eyes of Mr. Monckton, that his advice came not too soon; a suspi- cion of the real state of the case speedily occurred to him, and he questioned her minutely upon the subject. She endeavoured to avoid making him any answer, but his discernment was too keen for her artificial evasion, and he very soon gathered all the particulars of her trans* actions with Mr. Harrel. He was less alarmed at the sum she had lent him, which was rather within bis expectations, than at the method she had been induced to take to procure it. He represented to her in the strongest manner the danger of imposition, nay, of ruin, from the extortions and the craft of money-lenders ; and he charged her upon no consi- deration to be tempted or persuaded again to have re- course to such perilous expedients. She promised the most attentive observance of his ad- vice; and then told fiim the acquaintance she had made with Miss Belfield, and her sorrow tor the situation of her brother ; thoogli, satisfied tor the present with the plan of young Delvile, she now gave up her design of sobciting his counsel. In the midst of this conversation, a note was delivered to her from Mr. Delvile, senior, acquainting her with his return to town, and begging the favour of her to call in 244 CECII^A. St. James’s-square the next morning, as he vvished to speak to her upon some business of importance. The eager manner in which Cecilia accepted this invi- tation, and her repeated and earnest exclamation of won- der at what Mr. Delvile could have to say, passed not unnoiiced by Mr. Monckton ; he instantly turned the dis- course from the Belfields’ the Harrels* and the Baronet^ to enquire how she had spent her time during her visit in St. James’s-square, and what was her opinion of the family alter her late opportunities of intimacy r Cecilia answered that she had yet seen nothing more of Mr. Delvile, who had been absent the whole time, but with equal readiness and pleasure she replied to all bis questions concerning his lady, expatiating with warmth and fervour upon her many rare and estimable qualities. But when the same interrogatories were transferred to the son, she spoke no longer with the same ease, nor with her usual promptitude of sincerity ; she was embar- rassed, her answers were short, and she endeavoured to hasten from the subject. Mr. Monckton remarked this change with the most apprehensive quickness, but forcing a smile, “ Have yoii yet,’’ he said, “ observed the family compact in which those people are bound to besiege you, and draw you info rheir snares ?” “ J\o, indeed,” cried Cecilia, much hurt by the ques- tion, 1 am sure no such compact has been formed, and I am sure, too, that if you knew them better, you would yourself be the first to admire and do them justice.” “ My dear Miss Beverley,” cried be, “ 1 know them already ; 1 do not, indeed, visit them, but I am perfectly acquainted with their characters, which have been drawfl to me by those who are most closely connected with them, and who have had opportunities of inspection which I hop* will never fall to your share, since 1 am satisfied the trial would pain, though the proof would convince you.” “ What then have you heard of them ?” cried Cecilia, with much earnestness ; it is, at least, not possible^ny ill can he said of Mrs. Delvile.” “ I beg your pardon,” returned he, “ Mrs. Delvile is not nearer perfection than the rest of her family, she has CECILIA. 245 only^more art in disguising her foibles; because, though she is the daughter of pride, she is the slave of interest.” ** I see you have been greatly misinformed,” said Ce- cilia, warmly ; “ Mrs. Delvile is the noblest of women ! she may, indeed, from her very exaltation, have enemies, but they are the enemies of envy, not of resentment, ene- mies raised by superior merit, not excited by injury or provocation !” ‘‘You will know her better hereafter,” said Mr. Monck- ton, calmly, “ I only hope your knowledge will not be purchased by the sacrifice of your happiness.” “ And what knowledge of her, sir,” cried Cecilia, start- ing, “ can have power to put my happiness in any dan- ger?” “ I will tell you,” answered he, “ with all the open- ness you have a claim to from my regard, and then leave to time to shew if I am mistaken. The Delvile family, notwithstanding its ostentatious magnificence, I can so- lemnly assure you, is poor in every branch, alike lineal and collateral.” “ But is it therefore the less estimable ?” “ Yes, because the more rapacious. And while they count on each side dukes, earls, and barons, in their ge- nealogy, the very wealth with which, through your means, they project the support of their insolence, and which they will grasp with all the greediness of avarice: they will think honoured by being employed in their ser- vice, while the instrument, all amiable as she is, by which they attain it, will be constantly held down as the dis- grace of their alliance.” Cecilia, stung to the soul by this speech, rose from her chair, unwilling to answer it, yet unable to conceal how much it shocked her. Mr. Monckton, perceiving her emotion, followed her, and taking her hand, said, “ I would not give this warning to one 1 thought too weak to profit from it ; but as I am well informed of the use that is meant to be made of your fortune, and the abuse that w ill follow of yourself, I think it right to prepare you for their artifices, which merely to point out may render abortive.” Cecilia, too much disturbed to thank him, drew back her hand, and continued silent. Mr. Monckton, reading m CECILIA. U>t'oiagh bfir tl>« state of her a^etioos, stw u'kh terror tUa greatness of tke d&i^er which threatened hiiQ. He found, however, that the present was no time for enforcing objections, and perceiving he had airetdj gone too far, though he was b> means disposed to rt» eant, he tliought it most prudent to retreat, and let her meditate npon his exhortation while its impression was yet strong in her mind. He would now, therefore, have taken leave, but Cecilia, endeavouring to recollect herself, and fully persuaded that however be had shocked her, he had only her interest iq view, stopt him, saying, ‘‘You think me perhaps, ungrate- ful, but believe me I am not : I must, however, acknow* ledge that your censure of Mrs. Delvile hurts me ex- tremely. Indeed, i cannot doubt her worthiness ; I must still, therefore, plead for her ; and I hope the time will come when you will allow I have not pleaded unjustly.” “Justly or unjustly,” answered Mr. Monckton. “lam at least sure you can never plead vainly. I give up, theret- fore, to your opinion my attack of Mrs. Delvile, and am willing, from your commendations, to suppose her the best of the race. Nay, I will even own that perhaps Mr. Delvile himself, as well as his lady, might pass through life and give but little offence, had they only themselves' to think of, and no son to stimulate their arrogance.” “Is the son, ihen,” said Cecilia, faintly, “so much the most culpable ? ’ “ The son I believe,” answ^ered he, “is at least the chief incentive to insolence and ostentation in the parenti, since it is for his sake they covet with such avidity ho- nours and riches, since they plume themselves upon re- garding him as the support of their name and family, and since their pride in him even surpasses their juride in their lineage and themselves.” “Ah!V thought Cecilia, “ and of such a son who could help being proud !” “ Their purpose, therefore,” he continued, “ is to se- cure through his means your for tune, which they will no sooner obtain, than, to my certain knowledge, they mean instantly^ and most unmercifully, to employ it in repjiir- ing all their dilapidated esl^es**’ CECILIA. S47 Aird t^en he (jmtted the suii^ect ; and, with* that guard- ed warmth which accompanied all his expressions, told her, he would carefully watch- for her honour and welfare, and repeating his promise of endeavouring to discover the tie by which Mr. Harrel seemed bound to the baro** net, he left her-— a prey himself to an anxiety yet more se- tere than that with which he had filled her! He now savir all his long-cherished hopes in danger of final destruction, and suddenly cast upon the brink of a precipice, where, while he struggled to protect them from falling, his eyes were dazzled by beholding them totter. Meanwhile Cecilia, disturbed from the calm of soft serenity to which she had yielded every avenue of her soul, now looked forward with distress and uneasinessj even to the completion of the views which but a few minutes before had comprised all her notions of felicity. The alliance which so lately had seemed wholly unex- ceptionable, now appeared teeming with objections, and threatening with difficulties. The representations of Mr. Monckton had cruelly mortified her; well acquainted with bis knowledge of the world, and wholly unsuspicious of his selfish motives, she gave to his assertions involun- tary credit, and even while she attempted to combat them, they made upon her mind an impression scarce ever to be erased. Full, therefore, of doubt and inquietude, she passed the night in discomfort and irresolution, now determining to give way to her feelings, and now to be wholly go- verned by the counsel of Mr. Monckton. CHAPTER XL an expectation. IN this disposition of mind, Cecilia the next morning obeyed the summons of Mr.; Delvile, and for the first time went to St. Jaraes’s-square in an humour to look for evil instead of good, and meanness instead of nobleness. She was shewn into an apartment where she found Mr. 248 CECILIA. Delvile alone, and was received by him as usual, with the most stately solemnity. , When she was seated, “ I have given you, Miss Bever- ley,” said he, “ the trouble of calling, in order to discuss with you the internal state of your affairs ; a duty which, at thisjuncture, I hold to be incumbent upon my character. The delicacy due to your sex would certainly have induced me to wait upon you myself for this purpose but for the rea- sons I have already hinted to you, of fearing the people with whom you live might think it necessary to return my visit. Persons of low origin are commonly in those matters the most forward. Not, however, that I would prejudice you against them ; though, for myself, it is fit 1 remember that a general and indiscriminate acquaintance, by level- ling all ranks, does injury to the right of society.” Ah ! tiidught Cecilia, how infallible is Mr. Monckton ! and bow inevitably, in a family of which Mr. Delvile is the bead, should 1 be cruelly Ae/t/ down as the disgrace of their alliance I “ I have applied,” continued he, ‘‘ to Mrs. Delvile, to know if the communication which I had recommended to you, and to which she bad promised her attentioo, had yet passed ; but 1 am informed you have not spoken to her upon the subject.” “ 1 had nothing, sir, to communicate,” answered Ce- cilia, “ and I had hoped, as Mrs. Delvile made no en- quiries, she was satisfied she had noting to hear.” “ With respect to enquiries,” said Mr. Delvile, “ I fear you are not sufficiently aware of the distance between a lady of Mrs. Delvile’s rank, both by birth and alliance and such a young woman as Mrs. Barrel, whose ances- tors, but a short time since, were Suffolk farmers. But I beg your pardon ; 1 mean not any reflection upon yours : J have always heard they were very worthy peo- ple ; and a farmer is certainly a very respectable person. Your father, ^ ih'.nk, no more than the dean your uncle, did nothing in that way himself.^’” “ No, sir,” said Cecilia drily, and much provoked by this contemptuous courtesy. “ 1 have always been told he was a very good sort of man ; I knew none of the family myself but the dean. His CECILIA. i?49 connexions with the bishop of ,nay relation^ put him often in my way. Though his naming me for one of his trustees, I must own, was rather extraordinary ; but I mean not to hurt you ; on the contrary, 1 should be muc’.i concerned to give you any uneasiness.” Again Mr. Monckton arose in the mind of Cecilia, and again she acknowledged the truth of his stricture ; and though she much wondered in what an harangue so pompous w as to end, her disgust so far conquered her curiosity, that w ithout hearing it she wished herself aw'ay. “ To return,” said he, “ to my purpose. The present period of your life is such as to render advice particular- ly seasonable : I am sorry, therefore, as 1 before said, you have not disclosed your situation to Mrs. Delvile. A young lady, on the point of making an establishment, and with many engagements in her power, is extremely liable to be mistaken in her judgment, and therefore should so- licit instruction from those who are able to acquaint her what connexion would be most to her advantage. One thing, however, I am happy to commend : the young man who was wounded in the duel 1 cannot recol- lect his name is, I hear, totally out of the question. What next? thought Cecilia; though still she gave him no interruption, for the haughtiness of his manner was repulsive to reply. “ My design, therefore, is to speak to you of Sir Robert Floyer. When I had last the pleasure of addres- sing you upon this subject, you may probably remember my voice was in his favour, but I then regarded him merely as the rival of an inconsiderable young man, to rescue you from whom he appeared an eligible person. The affair is now altered, that young man is thought of no more, and another rival comes forward, to whom Sir Robert is as inconsiderable as the first rival was to Sir Robert.” Cecilia started at this information, livelier sensations stimulated her curiosity, and surmises in which she was most deeply interested quickened her attention. “ This rival,” proceeded he, “ I should imagine no young lady would a moment hesitate in electing ; he is every way the superior of Sir Robert except in fortune, VOL. I. 2 1 7 250 CECILIA. and the deficiencies of that the splendour of your own may amply supply.” The deepest crimson now tinged the cheeks of Ce- cilia ; the prophecy of Mr. Monckton seemed imme- diately fulfilling, and she trembled wi|,h a rising conflict between her approbation of the offer, and her dread of its consequences. “ I know not, indeed,” continued he, “ in what esti- mation you may have been accustomed to bold rank and connexion, nor whether you are immpressed with a proper sense of their superiority and valine ; for early prejudices are not easily rooted out, and those who have lived chiefly with monied people, regard even birth it- self as unimportant when compared with wealth.” The colour which first glowed in the Cheeks of Cecilia from expectation, now rose yet higher from resentment ; she thought herself already insulted by a prelude so os- tentatious and humiliating to the proposals which were to follow ; and she angrily determined, with whatever pain to her heart, to asseri^her own dignity, by refusing them at once, too well satisfied by what she now saw of the present, that Mr. Monckton had been just in the prediction of the future. “ Your rejection, therefore,” continued he, “ of this honourable offer, may perhaps have been merely the consequence of the principles in which you have beeq educated.” — Rejection !” irkerrupted Cecilia, amazed, “ what re- jection, sir “ Have you not refused the proposals of my Lord Ernolf for his sou “ Lord Ernolf.? never ! nor have I ever seen either his lordship or his son but in public.” ** That,” replied Mr. Delyile, “is little to the pur- pose; where the connexion is a proper one, a young lady of delicacy has only to accede to it. But though this rejection came not immediately from yourself, it had doubtless your concurrence.” “ I had not, sir, even my knowledge.” “ Your alliance then with Sir Robert Floyer is probably nearer a conclusion than I had imagined, for otherwise CECILIA. 251 Mr. Harrel would not, without consulting you, have given the earl so determined an answer.” “ No, sir,” said Cecilia, impatiently, “ my alliance with him was never more distant, nor do I mean it should ever approach more near.” She was now little disposed for further conversation. Her heroic design of refusing young Delvile, by no means reconciled her to the discovery she now made that he had not meant to address her; and though she was pro- voked and fretted at this new proof that Mr. Harrel scrupled neither assertions nor, actions to make her en- gagement with Sir Robert credited, her disappointment in finding that Mr Dt Iviie, instead of pleading the cause of his son, was exerting his interest for another person, affected her so much more nearly, that notwithstanding he still continued his parading harangue, she scarcely knew even the subject of his discourse, and seized the first opportunity of a cessation to rise and take her leave. He asked her if she would not call upon Mrs. Delvile, but desirous to be alo; e, she declined the invitation: he then charged her to proceed no further with Sir Robert, till he had made some enquiries concerning Lord Ernolf, and graciously promising his protection and counsel, suffered her to depart. Cecilia now perceived she might plan her rejections, or study her dignity, at her leisure, for neither Mr. Del- vile nor his son seemed in any haste to put her fortitude to the proof With regart), therefore, to their plots and intentions. Mr Monckton she found was vvrong; but with respect to their conduct and sentiments, she had every reason to believe him right: and though her heart re- fused to rejoice in escaping a trial ot its strength, her judgment was so well convinced that his painting was from the life, that she determined to conquer her parti- ality for young Delvile, since she looked forward to no- thing but mortification in a connexion with his family. 252 CECILIa. BOOK IV, CHAPTER I. AN agitation. With this intention, and every faculty of her mind absorbed in reflecting upon the reasons which gave rise to it, she returned to Portman square. As her chair was carried in the hall, she observed, with some alarm, a look of consternation among the servants, and an appearance of confusion in the whole house. She was proceeding to her own rooom, intending to en- quire of her maid if any evil had happened, when she was crossed upon the stairs by Mr. Harrel, who passed her with an air so wild and perturbed, that he hardly seemed to know her. Frightened and amazed, she stopt short, irresolute which way to go ; but, hastily returning, he beckoned her to follow him. She obeyed, and he led her into the library. He then shut the door, and abruptly seizing her hand, called out, “ Miss Beverly, I arn ruined ! — I am undone ! — I am blasted for ever !” I hope not, sir,” said Cecilia, extremely terrified, “ I hope not! Where is Mrs. Harrel?” “ O I know not I I know not ! cried he in a frantic manner, “ but 1 have not seen her,— I cannot see her,— I hope I shall never see her more !” — “ O fie, fie !” said Cecilia, “ let me call her, I beg; you should consult with her in this distress, and seek comfort from her affection.” “ From her affection ?” repeated he, fiercely; “from her CECIjLiA. 25 hatred, you mean ! Do you not know, that she too is ruined? Oh, past redemption, ruined ! — and yet that I should hesitate, that I should a moment hesitate, to con- clude the whole business at once !” “ How dreadful !” cried Cecilia, “ what horrible thing has happened ?” “ I have undone Priscilla !” cried he, “ I have blasted my credit ! 1 have destroyed — no, not yet quite destroy- ed myself!’’ “ O yet nor ever !” cried Cecilia, whose agitation now almost equalled his own, “ be not so desperate, I conjure you ! speak to me more intelligibly, — what does all this mean ? How has it come to pass ?” ^ “ My debts 1 — my creditors I — one way only,” striking his hand upon his forehead, “ is left for me I” “ Do not say so, sir,” said Cecili, “ you shall find n’any ways ; pray have courage ! pray speak calmly ; and if you will but be move prudent, will but, in future, better regulate your affairs, 1 will myself undertake ’ She stopt ; checked in the full career of her overflow- ing compassion, by a sense of the worthlessness of its object ; and by the remembrance of the injunctions of Mr. Monckton. “ What will you undertake ?” cried he eagerly ; “ I know you are an angel I tell me what you will undertake r “ I will,”— said Cecilia, hesitating, “ I will speak to Mr. Monckton, — I will consult “ \^ou may as well consult with every cursed creditor in the house 1” interrupted he; “ but do so if you please; my disgrace must perforce reach [him soon, and a short anticipation is not worth begging off.” “ Are your creditors then actually in the house • “ O yes, yes ! and therefore, it is high time I should be out of it !— Did you not see them ?— Do they not line the hall? They threaten me with three executions be- fore night !— three executions, unless I satisfy their im- mediate demands ! — ” “ And to what do their demands amount ? “ I know not ! I dare not ask — to some thousand pounds, perhaps — and I have not, at this minute, forty guineas in the house 254 CECILIA. “Nay, then,” cried Cecilia, retreating, “I can in* deed do nothing ! if their demands are so high, I ought to do nothing.” She would then have quitted him, not more shocked at his situation, than indignant at the wilful extravagance which had occasioned it. “Stay,” cried he, “and hear me!” then low'e ring his voice, Seek out,” he continued, “ your unfortunate friend — goto the poor ruined Priscilla, — prepare her for tioings of horror 1 and do not, though you renounce Me, do not al)r>ndon Her!” Then tierce iy passing her, he was himself leaving the room ; but Cerilia, alarmed by the fury of his manner, called out, “ What is it you mean ? what tidings of hor- ror ? whither are you going?” “To hell !’ critd he, and rusljed out of the apartment. Cecilia screamed aloud, arid conjuring him to hear her, ran after him ; he paid her no regard, but, flying faster than she had power to pursue, reached his own dressing- room, shut himself into it with violence, and just as she arrived at the door, turned the key, and bolted it. Her terror vvas novv inexpressible; she believed him in the veiy act of suicide, and her refusal of assistance seemed the signal for the deed: her whole fortune, at that moment, was valueless and unimportant to het, compared with the preservation of a fellow -creature ; she called out with all tl^e vehemence of agony to beg he would open the door, and eagerly piomised by all that was sacred, to do every thing in her power to save him. At these words he opened it : his face was totally without colour, ar,d he grasped a razor in bis hand. You have stopt me,” said he, in a voice scarce audi- ble, ** at the very moment I had gathered courage for.the blow: but if indeed you will assist me, 1 will shut this up, — if not, 1 will siee » it in nay blood !” “ I will ! I will! cried Cecilia, “ I will do every thing you desire !” “ And quickly ?” “ Immediately.” ** Before my disgrace is known ? and while all may yet be hushed up?” CECILIA. 255 “ Yes, yes \ all — any — every thing you wishl” “ Swear then” Hear Cecilia drew back ; her recollection returned as her terror abated, and her repugnance to entering into an engagement for she knew not what, with a mail whose actions she condemned, and v* [)ose principles she abhor- red, made ail her fright now give way to indignation, and, alter a sliorl p luse, she angrily answered, “No, sir, I will not^wea^! — but yet, all that is reasonable, all that is friendly — ” ear swear, then!*’ interrupted he, furiously,. “ which at this moment I do, by every thing eternal, and by everv thing internal, that 1 will not outlive the sei- zure of mv property, and that the moment 1 am inform- ed there is an execution in my house, shall be the last of my existence!” What crueltv 1 what compulsion! what impiety !” cried Ceciiia: “ give me, however, that horriule instru- ment, prescribe to me what conditions you please.” A noise was novv beard below stairs, at whicii Cecilia, who had not dared call for help, lest she should quicken his desperation, was secretly beginning to rejoice, vvhen starting at the sound, he exclaimed, “ 1 believe you are too late! — the ruffians have already seized my bouse!” then er.deavouring to force her out of the room, “ Go,^’ he cried, “ to my wife; —1 want to be alone! “ O give me" 6rst,” cried she, “ that weapon, and 1 will take w'hat oath yon please !” “ No, no ! — go, — -leave me,” — cried he, almost breath- less with emotion, “ I must not be trifled with.” “I do not trifle! indeed I do not!” cried Cecilia, holding by his arm : “ try, put me to the proof!” “ Swear, solemnly swear, to empty my house of these creditors this moment !” “ I (/o swear,” cried she, with energy, “ and Heaven prosper me as I am sincere !’’ “ 1 see, I see you are an angel !” cried he rapturously, “ and as such 1 worship and adore you ! O you have re- stored me to life, and rescued me from perdition ! “ Give me, then, that fatal instrument! “That instrument,” returned he, “is nothing, since so 256 CECILIA. many others are in my power ; but you have now taken from me all desire of using them. Go, then, and stop, those wretches from coming to me — send immediately for the Jew! — he will advance what money you please^ — my man knows where to find him ; — consult with Mr. Arnolt, speak a word of comfort to Priscilla,- — but da nothing, nothing at all, till you have cleared my house of those cursed scoundrels 1” Cecilia, whose heart sunk within her at the solonjrv promise she had given, the mention of the Jew, and the arduous task she had undertaken, quitted him without reply and was going to her own room, to compose her hurried spirits, and consider what steps she bad totake^ when hearing the noise in the hall grew louder, she stopt to listen, and catching some words that greatly alarmed her, went half way down stairs, when she was met by Davison, Mr. Harrel’s man, of whom she en- quired into the occasion of the disturbance. He answered that he must go immediately to his master, for the bailiffs were coming into the house. “ Let him not know it if you value his life !*’ cried she with new terror. “ Where is Mr. Arnott? call him to me — beg hio) to come this moment,*— I will wait for him here.” The man flew to obey her : and Cecilia, finding s(heha(| time neither for deliberation, nor regret, and dreadinglest* Mr. Harrel, by hearing of the arrival of the bailiffs, should relapse into despair, determined to call to her aid all the courage, prudence, and judgment she possessed, and since to act she was compelled, endeavour, with her best abiiity* to "save his credit, and retrieve his affairs. The moment Mr. Arnott came, she ordered Davison to hasten to his master, and watch his motions. Then, addressing Mr. Arnott, “ Will .you, sir,” she said, “ go and tell those people that if they will instantly quit the house, every thing shall be settled, and Jdt- Harrel will satisfy their demands? “ Ah, Madam !” cried Mr. Arnott, mournfully, ‘'and how l.e has no means to pay them, and I have none’— without ruin to myself, — to help him !” “ Send them but arvgv,” ? 'id Cetilia. “ and I will GECILTA- 257 myself be your security that your promise shall not be <^graced.” “ Alas, madam ! cried he, “ what are you doing ? well as I wish to Mr. Harrel, miserable as I am for my unfortunate sister, I yet cannot bear that such goodness^ •uch beneficence, should be injured V> Cecilia, however, persisted, and with evident reluG*^ tanee he obeyed her. While she waited bis return, Davison came from Mr, Darrel, who had ordered him to run instantly for the Jew. Good heaven, thought Cecilia, that a map so wretch* edly selfish and worldly, should dare, with all his guilt; ilipon his head, “ To rash UBlicenced on eternity* !’* Mr. Arnott was more than half an hour with the peo- ple ; and when, at last, he returned, his countenance immediately proclaimed the ill success of his errand. The creditors, he said, declared they had so frequently been deceived, that they would not dismiss the bailiffs, or retire themselves without actual payment. “ Tell them then, sir,” said Cecilia, “ to send me their accounts, and, if it be possible, I will discharge them di- rectly.” Mr. Arnott*s eyes were filled with tears at this de- claration, and he protested, be the consequence to him- self what it might, he would pay away every shilling he was worth rather than witness such injustice. “ No," cried Cecilia, exerting more spirit, that she might shock him less, “ I did not save Mr. Harrel, to destroy so much better a man! you have suffered but too mnch oppression already , the present evil is mine : and from me, at leasb none I hope will ever spread to jkr. Arnott. , , . , Mr. Arnott could not bear this; he was struck with f rief, with -admiration, and with gratitude^ and finding is tears now refused to be restrmned, he went to exe- cute her, coipmissiQn in silent dejection. The dejection, however, was encredsed, tbtwjgh his * Mtuon'* Eltrida. SK VOL. !• 7 258 CECILIA. tears were disposed, when be returned ; '‘ Oh ma^am !” he cried, “ all your efforts, generous as they are, will be of no avail I the bills even now in the house amount to more than 70001. T* Cecilia, amazed and confounded, started and clasped her hands, calling out, “ Whatrmust I do, to what have J bound myself! and how can I answer to my conscience, ^ — to my successors, such a disposal, such an abuse of so large a part of my fortune 1 Mr. Arnott could make no answer ; and they stood looking at each other in silent irresolution, till Davkoti brought intelligence that the Jew was already come, and waited to speak with her. “ And what can I say to him?” cried she, mo^e and more agitated ; I understand nothing of usury ; how am I to deal with him ?” Mr. Arnott then confessed that he should himself have instantly been bail for his brother, but that his fortune, originally not large, was now so much impaired by the many debts which from time to time be had paid for him, that as he hoped Isome day to have a family of his own, he dared not run a risk by which he might be utterly ruined, and the less, as his sister had at Violet-Bank been prevailed upon to give up her settlement. , This account, which explained the late uneasiness of Mrs. Barrel, still encreased the distress of Cecilia ; and every moment she* obtained for reflection, augmcmtedT her reluctance to parting with so large a sum of money for so worthless an object, and added strength to her resentment for the injustiflable menaces which had ex- torted from her such a promise^ Yet not an instant would she listen to Mr. Arnott's offer of fulfilling her en- gagement, and charged him, as she considered her own self-esteem worth her keeping, not to urge to her a pro- posal so ungenerous and selfish. Davison now came'" again to hasten her, and said that the Jew was with his master, and they both impati^tly expected her. Cecilia, half distracted with her uncertainty how to act, changed colour at this message, and exclaimedt Ob, Mr. Arnott, run, I beseech you, for Mr, Monck- CECILIA. 259 ton ! bring him hither directly, — if any body can save me it is him; but if I go back to Mr. Harrel, I know it will be all over !” “ Certainly,’* said Mr. Arnott, “ I will run to him this moment.” “ Yet, no ! — stop cried the trembling Cecilia, “ he can now do me no good,-— his council will arrive too late to serve me, — it cannot call back the oath I have given ! it cannot, com pulsatory as it was, make me break it, and not be miserable for ever !” This idea sufficed to determine her ; and the appre- hension of self-reproach, should the threat of Mr. Harrel be put in execution, was more unsupportable to her blameless and upright mind, than any loss or diminution which her fortune could sustain. Slowly, however, with tardy and unwilling steps, her judgment repugnant, and her spirit repining, she obeyed the summons of Mr. Harrel, who, impatient of her de- lay, came forw'ard to meet her. “Miss Beverley,” he cried, there is not a moment to be lost; this good man will bring you any sum of money, upon a proper consideration, that you will command ; but if he is not immediately commissioned, and these cursed fellows are not got out of my house, the affair will be blown, — and what will follow,” added he, lowering his voice, “ I will not again frighten you by repeating, though I shall never recant.” Cecilia turned from him in horror ; and with a faul- tering voice and heavy heart, entreated Mr. Arnott to settle for her with the Jew. Large as was the sum, she was so near being of age, and her security was so good, that the transaction was soon finished ; 7,5001. was received of the Jew, Mr. Harrel gave Cecilja his bond for the payment, the creditors w,ere satisfied, the bailiffs were dismissed, and the house was soon restored to its customaryappearance of splendid gaiety. Mrs. Harrel, who during this scene, had shut herself up in her own room to weep and lament, now flew to Cecilia, and in a transport of joy and gratitude, thanked her upon her knees for thus preserving her from utter ruin; the gentle Mr. Arnott seemed uncertain whether mos s 6 a CECILI 4 . to grieve or rejdeei: and Mr. Harrel repeatedly protested she should have the sole guidance of hi& future condat^ This promise* the hope of his airiendment, and the joy she bad expanded*^ somewhat revived the spirits of Ce- cilia ; who, however, deeply affected by what bad pas,- sed, hastened from them all to her own room. She had now parted with 8,0301. to Mr. Harrel* with- out security when or how it was to be paid : and that ar- dour of benevolence which taught her to value l^r riches merely as they enabled her to do good and generous ac- tions, was here of no avail to console or reward her, for her gift was compelled, and its receiver was all but de- tested. “ How much better,” cried she “ would this have been bestowed upon the amiable Miss Belheld ! er upoa her noble-minded, though proud-spirited brother I au;^ how much less a sum would have ipade the virtuous and industrious Hills easy and happy for life ! . but here to become the tool of the extravagance 1 abhor I to be made responsible for the luxury I condemn : to be liberal in , Opposition to my principles, and lavish in defiance of Doy judgment!— Oh that my much deceived uncle had better known to what dangeroua hands he committed me ! and that ray weak and unhappy friend had met with a worthier protector of her virtue and safety t As soon however as she recovered from the first sboch of her rejections, she turned her thoughts from herself to the formation of some plan that might, at least render donation of service and lasting use. The signal service she had just done them gave her at present an ascendency over the Harrels, which she hoped, ifimmediateiy exertep might prevent the return of so calamitous a scene, by en- gaging them both to an immediate change of conduct ^ut unequal herself to contriving expedients for this pur- pose that might not easily be controverted, she determiu** ed to send the next morning a petition to Mr. Monckteh to call upon her, reveal to him , the whole transaction, and entreat him to suggest to her what, with most^oba- bility of success, she might offer to their considerattohi^ While this was passing in her mind, on the evening of the day in whiqh she had so dearly pa rchased the rjg^t of giving counsel, she was sumipiotied to tea. CECILIA. 261 She found Mr. Harrel and his lady engaged in earnest discourse : as soon as she appeared, ihe former said, “ My dear Miss Beverly, after the extraordinary kind- ness you have shewn me this morning, you will not, I am sure, deny me one trilling favour which I mean to ask this evening.” No, “ said Mrs. Harrel, “ that I am sure she will not, when she knows that our future appearance in the world depends upon her granting it.” “ I hope then,” said Cecilia, “ I shall not wish to re* fuse it.’; It is nothing in the world,” said Mr. Harrel, “ but jto go with us to night to the Pantheon.” Cecilia was struck with the utmost indignation at this proposal ; that the man who in the morning had an exe- cution in his house, should languish in the evening for the amusement of a public place, — that he who but a few hours before was plunging uncalled into eternity, should, while the intended instrument of death was yet scarce cold from the grasp of his hand, deliberately court a return of bis distress, by instantly recurring to the me- thods which had involved him in it, irritated and shocked her beyond even a wish of disguising' her displeasure, and therefore, after an expressive silence, she gave a cold, but absolute denial : “ 1 see,” said Mr. Harrel, somewhat confused, ** you do not understand the motives of our request. The un- fortunate affair of this morning is very likely to spread presently all over the town : the only refutation that can given to it, is by our all appearing in public before any body knows wliether to believe it or not.” Do, my dearest triend,” cried his lady, “ oblige me by your compliance 5 indeed our whole reputation de- pends upon it. I made an engagement yesterday to go with Mrs. Mears, and if I disappoint her, every body will be guessing the reason.” At least,” answered Cecilia, “ my going can nswer no purpose to you; pray* therefore, do not ask me; I am ill disposed for such sort ot amusement, and have by no means your opinion of its peces.sity. “But if we do not aU said Mr. Harrel, we do ^most nothing : you are known to live with us, and your CECILIA. appearance at this critical time is important to our credit. If this misfortune gets wind,-theCGirtsequence is that qvcry dirty tradesman in town, to whom I owe a shilling, will be forming the same cursed combination those scoundrels formed this morning, of coming in a body, and waiting for their money, or else bringing an execution into niy honse. The only way to silence report, is by putting a good face upon the matter at once, and shewing our- selves to the world as if nothing had happened. Favour us, therefore, to-night with your company, which is really important to us, or ten to one, but in another fortnight, I shall be just in the same scrape.’* Cecilia, however incensed at this intelligence that his debts were still so numerous, felt now as much alarmed at the mention of an execution, as if she was in actual danger of ruin herself. Terrified, therefore, though net convinced, she yielded to their persuasions, and con- sented to accompany them. They soon after separated to make some alterations in their dress, and then, calling in their way for Mrs» Mears, they proceeded to the Pantheon. CHAPTER II. 4 MAN OF THE TON. AT the door of the Pantheon they were joined by Mr. Arnott and Sir Robert Floyer, whom Cecilia now saw with added aversion; they entered the great room du- ring the second act of the Concert, to which, as no one of the party but herself had any desire to listen, no sort of attention was paid ; the ladies entertaining themselves as if no Orchestra was in the room ; and the gentlemen, with an equal disregard to it, struggling 'for a place by the fire, about, which they continued hovering till tte music was over. Soon after they, were seated, Mr. Meadows, saunteriflg towards them, whispered something to Mrs. Mears, who immediately rising, introduced him to Cecilia; after CECILIA. 263 which, the place next to her being vacant, he cast him- self upon it, and lolling as much at his ease as his situ- ation would permit, began something like a conversation with her. “ tlave you been long in town, ma am ?” “ No, sir.” “ This is not your first winter.^” “ Of being in this town it is.” Then you have something new to see : O charm- ing ! how I envy you ! — Are you pleased with the Pan- theon ?” “ Very much ; I have seen no building at all equal to it.” “You have not been abroad. Travelling is the ruin of all happiness 1 There’s no looking at a building here after seeing Italy !” “ Does all happiness, then, depend upon sight of buildings ?” said Cecilia; when, turning towards her companion, she perceived him yawning with such evi- dent inattention to her answer, that, not choosing to in- terrupt his reverie, she turned her head another way. For some moments he took no notice of this: and then, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he called out hastily, “ I beg your pardon, ma’am, you were saying something!” “No, sir: nothing worth repeating.” “ O pray dont punish me so severely, as not to let me hear it !’* Cecilia, though merely not to seem offended at his negligence, was then beginning an answer, when looking at him- as she spoke, she perceived that he was biting his nails with so absent an air, that he appeared not to know he had asked any question. She therefore broke off, and left him to his cogitation. Some time after he addressed her again, saying, “Don’t you find this place extremely tiresome, ma’am ?’’ “ Yes, sir,” said she, half laughing, “it is, indeed, not very entertaining !” “ Nothing is entertaining,” answered he, “ for two mi- nutes together. Things are so little different one from another, that there is no making pleasure out of any l^iog* We go the sam^ dull round for ever ; nothing 26'4 CECILIA. netv, no variety ! all the same thing over again ! Ard you fond of public places, ma’am ?” “ Yes, sir, soberly y as Lady Grace says.” “ Then 1 envy you extremely, for you have some amuse- ment always in your own power. How desirable that is !” “ And have not you the same resources r” “ O no ! I am tired to death ! tired of every thirigt I would give the universe for a disposition less difficult to please. Yet after all, what is there to give pleasure? When one has seen one thing, one has seen every thing. O, ’tis heavy work I Dont you find it so, ma’mn This speech was ended with so violent a fit of yawn* ing, that Cecilia would not trouble herself to answer it : but her silence, as before, passed wholly unnoticed, ex- citing neither question nor comment. A long pause now succeeded, which he broke at by saying, as he writhed himself about bis ^eat, “ Thdae forms would be flinch more agreeable if there were backst to them. ’Tts intolerabli^ to be forc;ed to sit like a school-’ hoy. The first study of life is ease. There is, indeed, no other study thit pays the trouble of attainments Doifl’t you think so, ma’am ?*’ “ But may not even tbac,” said Cecilia, “ by so rouch study, become labour ” “ I am vastly happy you think so.** “Sir.?** “ I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I thought you said, — I really beg your pardon, but 1 was thinking of some- thing else.” “ You did irery right, sir,” said Cecilia, laughksg, ‘^for what 1 said by no means merited any attemiofi;” “ Will you do me the favour to repeat it ?” cried be, taking out his glass to examine some lady at a distance. “ O no,** said Cecilia, “ that would be trying your pa- tience too severely. “ These glasses shew one nothing but defects,” said he: “l am sorry they were ever invented. They* are the ruin of all beauty ; no complexion can stand them. I believe that solo will never be over : 1 hate a solo ; it sinks, it depresses me intolerably.” “ You will presently, sir,” said Cecilk, looking ai tb# CECILIA. 265 bill of the concert, “ have a full piece, and that, I hope, will revive you.” ^ “ A full piece ! oh insupportable ' it stuns, it fatigues, it overpowers mebeyond endurance ! no taste in it, nodelicacy, no room for the smallest feelin.g” “ Perhaps, then, you are only fond of singing ?” “ I should be, if I could hear it ; but we are now so miserably off in voices, that I hardly ever attempt to listen to a song, without fancying myself deaf from the feeblness of the performers. I hate every thing that requires atten- tion. Nothing gives pleasure that does not force its own Way.” “ You only, then, like loud voices, and great powers ?” “ O worse and worse ! no, nothing is so disgusting to me, All my amazement is that these ^people think it worth while to give Concerts at all : one is sick to death of music.” “ Nay,” cried Cecilia, “ if it gives no pleasuse, at le.ist it takes none away : for, far from being any impediment to conversation, I think every body talks more during the performance than between the acts. And what is there bet- ter you could substitute in its plate ?” Cecilia, receiving no answer to this question, again look- ed round to see if she had been heard ; when she observed her new acquaintance, \yith a very thoughtful air, had turned from her to fix his eyes upon the statue of Bri- tannia. Very soon after, he hastily arose, and seeming entirely to forget that he had spoken to her, very abruptly walked away. Mr, Gosport, who was advacing to Cecilia, and had watched part of this scene, stopt him as he was retreating, and said, “ Why Meadows, how s this? ate you caught at last ?” “ O worn to death ! worn toa thread !” cried he, stretch- ing himself and yawning : “ 1 have been talking with a young lady to entertain her! O such heavy work ! 1 would not go through it again for millions !” “ what, have yOu talked yourself out ofbre'th ? “ No ; but theeflfort! the effort 1—0, it has unhinged 2 L 7 VOL. I. 266 CECILIA. tne for a fortnight ! — Entertaining a young lady ! — one had better been a galley-slave at once!” “ Well, but did she not pay your toils ? She is surclya sweet creature.” “ Nothing can pay one for such insufferable exertion! though she’s well enough too, — better than common run, — quite too shy ; no drawing her out.” “ I thought that was to your taste. You commonly hate much volubility. How have I heard you bemoan yourself when attacked by Miss LaroHes!” ' “ Larolles! O distraction I She taints me into a fever in two minutes. But s® it is f'-r ever ! nothing but extremes to be metwith ! common girls are too forward, this lady is too reserved— —always some fault ! always some drawback! nothing ever perfect !” ‘•Nay, nay,” cried Mr Gosport, “ you do not know her; she is peifect enough in all conscience.” ‘‘Better not know her then,” answered he, again yawn* ing, “ for she cannot be pleasing. Nothing perfect is na- tural ; — I hate every thing out of nature.” He then strolled on, and Mr. Gosport approached Ce- cilia. “ I have been wishing,” cried he, “ to address you this half hour, but as you were engaged with Mr. Meadows, I did not dare advance.” ‘‘ O, I see your malice !” cried Cecilia ; ” you were de- termined to add weight to the value of your company, by making me fully sensible where the balance would prepon- derate.” “Nay, if you do not admire Mr, Meadows,” cried he, “ you must not even whisper it to the winds.” “ Is he then so very admirable ?” “ O, he is now in the very height of fashionable favour: his dress is a model, his manners are imitated, hisattention is courted, and his notice is envied.” “ Are you not laughing ?” ‘•No indeed; his privileges are much more extensive than 1 have mentioned ; his decision fixes the exact limits between what is vulgar and what is elegant, his praise gives reputation, and a word from him in public confers fashion !” CECILIA. 267 And by what wonderful powers has he acquired such influence ?” “ By nothing but a happy art in catching the reigning foibles of the times, and carrying them to an extreme yet more absurd than any one has done before him. Cere- mony, he found, was already exploded for ease, he therefore exploded ease for indolence ; devotion to the fair sex, had given way to a more equal and rational intercourse, which to push still farther , he presently exchanged for rudeness ; joviality, too, was already banished for philosophical indif- ference, and that, therefore, he discarded for weariness and disgust.” “ And is it possible that qualities such as these should recommend him to favour and admirarion ?” “ Very possible for qualities such as these constitute the present state of the times. A man of the Ton, who would now be conspicuous in the gay world, must invariably be insipid, negligent and selfish.” “ Admirable requisites!” cried Cecilia, “ and Mr. Mea- dows, I acknowledge, seems to have attained them all.” “He must never,” continued Mr. Gosport, ‘‘ confess the least pleasure from any thing, a total apathy being the chief ingiedient of his character : he must, upon no account sustain a conversation with any spirit, lest he should ap- pear, to his utter disgrace, interested in what is said ; and when he is quite tired of his existence, from a total vacuity of ideas, he must affect a look of absence, and pretended, on a sudden, to be wholly lost in thought,” “ I would not wish,” said Cecilia, laughing, “ a more amiable companion !” “ Jf he is asked his opinion of any lady,” he continued, “he must commonly answer by a grimace; and if he is seated next to one, he must take the utmost pains to shew, by his listlessncss, yawning, and inattention, that he is, sick of his situation ; for what lie holds of ail things to be most gothic, is gallantry to the women. T© avoid this is, indeed, the principal solicitude of his life. If he sees a lady in distress for her carriage, he is to enquire of her what is the matter, and then, with a shrug, wish her well through her fatigues, wink at some by-stander, and walk 2 L 2 268 CECILIA. away. If he is in a room where there is a crowd of com- pany, and a scarcity of seats, he must early ensure oheof the best in the place, be blind to all looks of fatigue, and deaf to all hints of assistance, and seejnirig totally to forget himself, lounge at his ease, and appear an unconsious spectator of what is going forward. If he is at a ball where there are more women than men, he must decline dancing at all, though it should happen to be his favourite amuse- ment, and smiling as he passes the disengaged young ladies, wonder to see them sit still, and perhaps ask them the reason !” “ A most alluring character, indeed I” cried Cecilia, “ and pray how long have these been the accomplishments of a fine gentleman ?” “ I am but an indifferent chronologer^of the modes,” he answered ; “ but I know it has been long enough to raise just expectations that some new folly will be started soon, by which the present race of INSENSIBLISTS may be driven out. Mr. Meadows is now at the head of this sect, as Miss larolles is of the VOLUBLE, and Miss Leeson of the SUPERCILIOUS. But this waycornes another, who though in a different manner labours with the same view, and aspires at the same reward which stiumlate the ambi- tion of this happy Triplet, that of exciting wonderby pecu- liarity, and envy by wonder. This description announced Capt. Aresby ; who, ad- vancing from the fire-place, told Cecilia how much he re- joiced in seeing her, said he had been reduced to despair by so long missing that honour, and that he had feared she made it a p7inciple to avoid coming in public, having sought her in vain partout. He then smiled, and strolled on to another party. “ And pray of what sect,” said Cecilia, “ is this gentle- man ?” “ Of the sect of JARGONISTS,” answered Mr. Gos- port ; “he has not an ambition beyond paying a passing compliment, nor a word to make use of tha!t he has not picked up at public places. Yet this dearth of language, however you may despise it, is not merely owing to a narrow capacity ? foppery and conceit have their share in the iimi- Pation, for though his phrases are almost always ridiculous CECILIA. 269 Of misapplied) tliey are selected with much study, and in, troduced with infinite pain.” “Poor man !” cried Cecilia, “ is it possible it can co him any trouble to render himself so completely absurd ?” “ Yes ; but no more than it costs his neighbours to keep him in countenacc. Miss Lewson, since she has presided over the sect of the SUPERCILIOUS, spends at least half her life in wishing the annihilation of theother half; for as she must onlv soeak in her own Coterie, she is compelled to be frequently silent, and therefore, having nothing to think of, she is commonly gnawn with self- denial, and soured with want of amusement : Miss La- rollcs, indeed, is better off, for in talking faster than she thinks, she has but followed the natural bent of her dispo- sition : as to this poor JARGON 1ST, he has, 1 must own, rather a hard task, fiorn this continual restraint of speaking only out of his own Liliputian vocabulary, and denying himself the relief of ever uttering one word by the call of occasion, but what hardships is that compared with what is borne by Mr. Meadows ! who, si. te he commenced IN- SENSIBLIST, has never once dared to be phased, nor ventured for a moment to look in good humour!” “ Surely, then,” said Cecilia, “ in a short time, the punishment of this affectation will bring its cure.’, “ No; for the trick grows into liabit, and habit is a second nature. A secret idea of fame makes his forbear- ance of happiness supportable to him ; for he has now the self-satisfaction of considering himself raised to that highest pinnacle of fashionable refinement vvhidi is built upon apa- thy and scorn, and from which, proclaiming himself supe- rior to all possibility of enjoyment, he views the whole world with consempt ! liolding neither beauty, virtue, wealth, nor power, of importance sufficient to kindle the smallest emotion !” “ O that they could all round listen to you!” cried Ce- cilia ; “ they would soon, 1 think, sicken of their folly, if they heard it thus admirably exposed ” “ No ; they would but triumph that it had obtained them so much notice ! — But pray do you see that gentle- man, or don’t you chu'c to know him, who has been bow- ing, to you this half hour ?” 270 CECILIA. “Where?” cried Cecilia, and looking round, perceived Mr. Mortice; who, uopn her returning his salutation, in- stantly approached her, though he had never ventured to shew himself at Mr. Harrel’s since his unfoitunate accident on the evening of the masquerade. Entirely casting aside the easy familiarity at which he had latterly airiv'^ed, he enquired after, her health with the most fearful diffidence, and then, bowing profoundly was modestly retiring; when Mrs. Harrel, perceiving him, smiled with so much good-humour, that hegathered courage to return and address her, and found her, to his infinite de- light, as obliging and civil as ever. The Concert was now over ; the ladies arose, and the gentleman joined them. Morrice. at the sight of Mr. Har- rel, was again shrinking ; but Mr. Hand, immediately shaking hands with him, enquired what had kept him so long from Poriman square? Morrice than, finding, to his great sui'prise, that no one had thought more of the mis- chief but himself who had committed it, joyously discard- ed his timidity, and became as sprightly as before his morn* lification. A motion was now made for going to the tea-room f as they walked on. Cecilia, in looking up to examine the building, saw in one of the galler ies young Delvile, and al- Uiost at the same time caught his eye. Scarcely now did a moment elapse before he joined her. I'lie sight of liim, strongly reviving in her mind the painful (ontraiiety of opinion with which she had lately thought of him, the sentiments so much in his favour which but a few days before she had encouraged, and which it was only that moiriiug she had endeavoured to crush, made her meet him with a kind melancholy that almost induced her to lament he was amiable, and repine that she knew none like him. His appearance, mean time, was far different; beseemed enchanted at the sight of her, he flew eagerly to meet her, and his eyes sparkled witii pleasure as he approached her; a pleasure neither moderate nor disguised, but lively, un- jestrained, and expressive. Cecilia, whose plans since she had last seen him had twice v.uitd, who h st had looked forward to being united CECILIA. 271 with him for ever, and afterwards had detei mined to avoid with liim even a common acquaintance, could not, while these thoughts were all recurring to her memoiy, receive much delight from observing his gaiety, or feel at all grati- fied by his embarrassed manners. The openness of his at- tentions, and the franknessof his admiration, whit h hither- to had charmed her as maiks of the sinceiity of his charac- ter, now shocked her as proofs of the indifferen e of his heart, which feeling for her a mere common regard, that affected neither his spirits nor his peace, he manifested with- out scruple, since it was not accompanied with even a wish beyond the present hour. She now, too recollected that such had always been his conduct, one single and singular moment excepted, when, as he gave to her his letter for Mr. Belfield, beseemed struck, as she was herself, by the extraordinary co-inci- dence of their ideas and proceedings: that emotion, how- ever, she now regarded as casual and transitory, and seeing him so much happier than herself, she felt ashamed of her delusion, and angry at her easy captivation. Reflections such as these, though they added fresh mo- tives to her resolution of giving up all thoughts of his alii, ance, were yet so humiliating, that they robbed her of all power of receiving pleasure from what was passing, and made her forget that the place she was in waseven intended for a place of entertainment. Young Delvile, after painting in lively colours the loss Ills house had sustained by her quitting it, and dwelling with equal force upon the regret of his mother and his own, asked in a low voice if she would do him so much honour as to introduce him to Mr. Harrel ? “ As the son," added he, “of a brother guardian, 1 think 1 have a kind of claim to his acquaintance." Cecilia could not refuse, though as the request was likely to occasion more frequent meetings, she persuaded herself she was was unwilling to comply. The ceremony therefore past, and was again repeated with Mis. Harrel, who, though she had several times seen him, had never been for- mally made known to him. The Harrels were both of them much pleased at this mark of civility in a young man, whose family had pre- 272 CECILIA. pared them rather to expect his scorn, and expressed their wishes that he would drink his tea in their party : he ac- cepted their invitation with alacrity, and turning to Cecilia, said, “ Have I not skillfully timed my introduction ? But though you have done me this honour with Mr. and Mrs. Harrel, I must not yet, I presume, entreat you to extend it lo a certain happy gentleman of thiscompany,” glancing his eyes to Sir Robert Floyer. “ No, sir,” answered she with quickness, “ yet, nor ever !” They were now at the door leading down stairs to the tea-room. Cecilia saw that Sir Robert, who had hitherto been engaged with some gentleman, seemed to be seeking her : and the remembrance of the quarrel which had fol- lowed her refusal ofhi'< assistance at the Opera-house, obliged her to determine, should he offer it again, to accept it ; but the same brutality which forced this intention, contributed to render it repugnant to her, and she resolved if possible to avoid him. by hurrying down stairs before he reached her. She made, therefore, a sudden attempt to slip through the crowd, and as she was light and active, she easily succeeded ; but through her hasty motion sepa- rated licr from the rest of the party, ''Delvile, -who was earnestly looking at her, to discover her meaning in the disclamihg speech she made about Sir Robert, saw into her design, but suffed her not to go alone ; he contrived in a moment to follow and join her, while she was stopping at the foot of the stairs for Mrs. Harrel. “ Why what a little thief you are,” cried he “ t© run away from us thus ! what do you think Sir Robert will say ? I saw him looking for you at the very instant of your flight.” “ Then you saw at the same time,” said Cecilia, “ the reason of it.” “ Will you give me leave, cried he laughing, “ tore- peat this to my Lord Ernolf ?” “ You may repeat it, sir, if you please,” said Cecilia, piqued that he had not rather thought of himself than of Lord Ernolf, “ to the whole Pantheon.” “ And if I should,” cried he, half of it, at least, would thank me: and to obtain the applause of so noble an asseiii- CEClttA.. 273 bly, what would it signify that Sir Robert should cut my throat ?” 1 believe, said Oecilia, deeply mortified by a raillery that shewed so little interest in her avowal of indifference, ‘■‘you arc determined to make me as sick of that man's name, as I am of his conversation.” “ And is it possible,” exclaimed Delvile, in a tone of surprise, “that such can be your opinion, and yet, situated as you are, the whole world atyour command, and all man- kind at your devotion— — but I am answering you serious- ly, when you are only speaking by rule.” “ What rule, Sir ?” “That which young ladies, upon Certain occasions, al- ways prescribe themselves.” Here they were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the company ; though not before Cecilia had received some little consolation for her displeasure, by finding that young Delvile still supposed she was engaged, and flattering her- self his language would be different were he informed of the contrary. Morrice now undertook to procure them a table for tea, which, as the room was very full, was not easily done ; and while they were waiting his success, Mis Larolles, who from the stairs had perceived Cecilia, came running up to her, and taking her hand, called out, “Lord, my dear creature, who’d have thought of seeing you here ? I was never so surprised in my life ! I really thought you was gone into a convent, it's so extreme long since I’ve seen you. But of all things in the world, why was you not at LadyNyland’s last assembly ? I thought of asking Mrs. Harrel fifty times why you did not come, but it always went out of my head. You've no notion how excessively I was disappointed.” “You are very obliging,” said Cecilia, laughing ; “but I hope, since you so often forgot it, the disappointment did riot much lessen your entertainment.” “ O Lord, no ! I was never so happy in my life. There was such a crowd, you could not move a finger. Every body in the world was thcie. You've no idea how delight- ful it was. I thought' verily I should have fainted with the hdat.” 2 M VOL. I* 8 274 CECILIA. ‘‘ That was delightful, indeed ! And how long did you slay ?” “Why we danced till three in the morning. We began with cotillions, and finished with conntry-dances. It was the most elegant thing you ever saw in your life ; every thing quite in stile. I was so nlonstrous fatigued, I could hardly get through the last dance. I really thought I should have dropt idown dead. Only conceive, dancing five hours in such a monstrous crowd ! 1 assure you when I got home my feet were all blisters. You have no idea how they smarted.” “And whence comes it,” cried young Delvile, “that you partake so little of the delights ?” “Because I fear,” answered Cecilia, “ I came too late into the school of fashion to be a ductile pupil.” “ Do you know,” continued Miss Larolles, “ Mr. Mea- dows has not spoke one word to me all the evening! though I am sure he saw me, for I sat at the outside on purpose to speak to a person or two, that I knew would be strolling about ; for if one sits on the inside, there’s no speaking to a creature you know : so I never do it at the Opera, nor in the boxes at Ranelagh, nor any where. It’s the shockingest thing you can conceive to be made sit in the middle of those forms ; one might as well be at home, for nobody can speak to one.” “ But you don’t seem to have had much better success," said Cecilia, “in keeping at the outside.” “ O yes I have, for I got a little chat with two or three people as they were passing, for, you know, when one sits there, they can’t help saying something ; though, I assure you, all the men are so excessively odd, they don’t care whether they speak to one or no. As to Mr. Meadows, he’s really enough to provoke one to death. I suppose he’s in one of hi.*! absent fits. However, I assure you, I think it’s extremely impertinent of him, and so I shall tell Mr. Sawyei’, for I know he’ll make a point of telling him of it again ” > “ I rather tjiink,” said Cecilia, “ the best way would be' to return the compliment in kind, and when he next recol- lects you, appear to have forgotten him.” “O Lord, that'^ a very good notion ! so I will, I dc- CECILIA. 275 dare. But you can’t conceive how glad I am the concert’s over; for I assure you, though I sat as near the fire as possible, I was so extreme cold you've no idea, /or Mr. Meadows never would let me have the least peep at it. 1 declare I believe he does it on purpose to plague one, for he grows worse and worse every day. You can’t think how I hate him !” “Not easily, I believe, indeed!” said Cecilia, archly, “ O do but look !” ^ resumed the fair VOLUBLE, ‘ if there is not Mrs. Mears in her old red gown again ! I begin to think she'll never have another, I wish she was to have an execution in her house, if it was only m get rid of it ! I am so fatigued with the sight of it, you can't conceive.” Mr. Mon ice now brought intelliaence that he had secured one side of a table which would very well accommodate the ladies ; and that the other side was only occupied by one gentleman, who, as he was not drinking tea himself, w’ou Id doubtless give up his place when the partyappeared. Miss Larolles then ran back to her own set, and she rest followed Mr Morrice ; Mrs. Harrel, Mrs. Mears, and Ceciliaj took their places. The gentleman opposite to them proved to he Mr. Meadows : Morrice, therefore, .was much deceived in his expectations, for, far from giving up his place, he had flung himself all along upon the form in such a lounging posture, while he rested one arm upon the table, that, not contented with merely keeping his own seat, he filled up a space meant for three. Mr. Har;el had already walked off to another party : Delvile stood aloof for some minutes, expecting Sir Robert Floyer would station himself behind Cecilia ; but Sir Robert, who would scarce have thought such a condescen- sion due to a princess, disdained any appearance of assi- duity, even while he made it his care to publish his pre- tensions ; and therefore, finding no accommodation to please him, he .stalked towards some gentlemen in another part of the room. Delvile then took the post he had neglected, and Mr. Arnott, who had not had courage to make any effort in his own. favour, modestly stood near him. Cecilia contrived to make room for Mr. Gosper- next to herself, and Morrice was sufficiently happy in bti:^ 2 M 2 276 CECaiA. allowed to call the waiters, superintend the provisions, and* serve the whole party. The task of making tea fell upon Cecilia, who being somewhat incommoded by the vicinity of her neighbours, Mrs. Mears called out to Mr. Meadows, “Do pray, sir, be so good as to make room for one of vis at your side.” Mr. Meadows,, who was indolently picking his teeth, and examining them with a tooth-pick case glass, did not at first, seem to hear hqr ; and when she repeated her rCn. quest, he only looked at her, and said “ umph ?” “ Now, really, Mr. Meadows,” said she, “ whenyoi^see any ladies in such distress, I wonder how you can forbear helping them;.” “ In distress , are you?^’ cried he, with a vacant smile, “ pray what’s the matter ?” “ Don’t you see ? we are so crouded, we cari hardly sit.” “Can't you?” cried he, “upon my honour it's very shameful that these people don’t contrive some seats more convenient.” “ Yes,” said Mrs. Mears, “but if you would be so kind, as to let somebody else sit by you, we should not want any contrivance.” Here Mr. Meadows was seized with a furious fit of ya^wn^ ing, which as much diverted Cecilia and Mr. Gosport, as it offended Mrs. Mears, who with great displeasure added,. “ Indeed, Mr. Meadows, it's very strange that you. never hear what’s said to you.” “ I beg your pardon,” said he, “ were you. speaking to me?” and again began picking his teeth. Morrice, eager to contrast his civility with the inatten-. tjon of Mr. Meadows, now flew round to the other side of the table, and calling out, “Let me help you Mis^ Be* verley, I can make tea better than any body;” he leant, oyer that part of the form which Mr. Meadows had occu- pied with one of his feet, in order to pour it out himself: but Mr. Meadows, by an unfortunate removal of his foot, bringing him forwarder- than he was prepared to go,, thfi tea-pot and its contents were overturned immediately opppr site to, Cecilia. Young, Del vile, who saw the impending evil, from aa impetuous impulse to prevent her suffering by it, hastily CECILIA. 277 di?ew her back, and bending down before her, secured her preservation by receiving himself the mischief with which she was threatened. Mrs. Mear.sand Mrs. Harrel vacated their seats in a mo- ment, and Mr. Gosport and Mr. Arnott assisted in clearing the table, and removii^g Cecilia, who was very slightly hurt, and at once surprised, ashamed, and pleased, at the manner in which she had been saved. Young Delvile, though a sufferer from his gallantry, the hot water having penetrated through his coat to his arm and shoulder, was at first insensible to his situation, from an apprehension that Cecilia had not w^holly escaped ; and his enquiries were so eager and so anxious, made with a look of such solicitude, and a voice of such alarm, that, equally as- tonished and gratified, she secretly blest the accident which had given birth to his uneasiness, however she grieved for its consequence to himself. But no sooner was. he satisfied for her safety, than he felt himself obliged to retire ; yet,, attributing to inconvenience what was really the effect of pain, he hurried away with an appearance of sport, saying, “There is something, I must own, raihei; unknightly in quitting the field for a wet jack- et, but the company, I hope, will, only give me credit for flying away to Ranelagh. — So “ I,lkc a, brave genera] after being beat, “ I’ll; exult an.J rejoice in a prudent retreat.” — Swi rt. He then: hastened to his carriage ; and poor Morrice, frightened and 'confounded at the disaster he had occasion- ed, sneaked after him with much less ceremony. While Mr. Meadows, wholly unconcerned by the distress and confusion around him, sat quietly picking his teeth, and. looking on., during the whole transaction, with an un-. meaning stare, that made it doubtful whether he had even perceived it. Order being now soon restored, the ladies finished their tea, and wen.t up stairs Cecilia, to whom the late acci- dent had, afforded much new and interesting matter for re- flection, wished immediately to have returned home, but she was not the leader of the party, and therefore could not make the proposal. Th.ey then strolled through all the apartments, and bav- 278 CECILIA. ing walked about till the fashionable time of retiilng, they were joined by Sir Robert Floyer, and proceeded to the little room near the entrance to the great one, in order to wait for their carriages. Here Cecilia again met Miss Larolles, who came to make various remarks, and infinite ridicule, upon sundry un- fashionable or uncostly articles in the dresses of the sur- rounding company; as well as to complain, with no little resentment, that Mr. Meadows was again standing befpre the fire. Captain Aresby also advanced to tell her, he was quite abattu by having so long lost sight of her, to hope ^hzwould make a t enounce of mortifying the world by discarding it, and to protest he had waited for his carriage till he was ac- tually upon the point of being accable. In the midst of ihisjargon^ to which the fulness of Ce- cilia's mind hardly permitted her to listen, there suddenly appeared at the door of the apartment, Mr. Albany, who, with his usual austerity of countenance, stopt to look round upon the company, “Do you see," cried Mr. Gosport, to Cecilia, “ who approaches? your poor will again be taken to task, and I, for one, tremble at the coming storm !” “O Lord," cried Miss Larolles, “ I wish I was safe in my chair ! that man always frightens me out of my Senses. You've no notion what disagreeable things he says to one. I assure you,^ Vve no doubt but he's crazy ; and J am always in the shockingest fright in the world for fear he should be taken with a fit while I'm near him." “ It is reallya petrifying thing," said the Captain, “that one can go to no spectacle without the horreuT of being ehsede by that person ! if he comes this way, I shall cer- tainly make a renounce and retire.” “Why so," said Sir Robert, “what the d — 1 do you mind himfor ?" “O he is the greatest bore in nature!" cried the Captain, “and I always do mon possible to avoid him ; for he breaks oat into such barbarous phrases, that 1 find myself degouit with him in a moment." “ O, I assure you," said Miss Larolles, “he attacks one sometimes in a manner you've no idea. One day he came CECILIA. 279 up to me all of a sudden, and asked me what good I thought I did by dressing so much ? Only conceive how shocking 1” “ O, I have had the horreur oi questions of that sort from him sans Jin,” said the Captain. “Once he took the liberty to ask me, what service I was of to the world ? and another time, he desired me to inform him, whethei I had ever made any poor person pray for me? And so, in short, he has frequently inconvenienced me by his imperti- nencies, that he really bores me to a degree.” “ That s j ust the thing that makes him hunt you down,” said Sir Robert ; “if he were to ask me questions for a month together, I should never trouble myself to move a muscle.” “ The matter of his discourse,” said Mr. Gosport, '“is not more singular than the manner; for without any seem- ing effort or consciousness, he runs into blank verse perpe- tuilly. I have made much enquiry about him; but all I am able to learn, is, that he was certainly confined, at one part of his life, in a private mad-house : and though now, fromnot being mischievous, he is set at liberty, his looks, language, and whole behaviour^ announce the former injury of his intellects.” “ O Lord,” cried Miss Larolles, half screaming, ‘‘‘ what shocking notions you put in one’s head! 1 declare I daie say I sha n’t get safe home for him, for I assure you, I be- lieve he has taken a spite to me ! and all because one day, before I knew of his odd ways, I happened to fall a laughing at his going about in that old coat. Do you know I put him quite in a passion ! only conceive how ill- natured !” “ O, he has distressed me,” exclaimed the Captain with a shrug, 'Jartout! and found so much fault with every thing I have done, that I should really be glad to have the honour to cut ; for the moment he comes up to me, I know what I have to expect 1” “ But I must tell you,” “ cried Miss Larolles, “how monstrously he put me in a fright one evening when I was talking to Miss Moffat. Do you know, he came up to us, and asked what we were saying? and because we could not tlrink in a minute of something to answer him. he said, he 280 CECILIA. supposed we were only talking some scandal, and so w'e had better go home and employ out selves in working for the poor! OTtly think how lionid ! and after that, he was SO excessive irnperiinent in his remaiks, there was quite no bearing him. I assure you he cut me up so you've no notion." Here Mr. Albany advanced ; and every body but Sir Hobert moved out of the way. Fixing his eyes Upon Cecilia, with an expression in sorrow than in anger, after contemplating her some time in silence, he exclaimed, “Ah, lovely, but perishable flower! how long will that ingenuous countenance, Wearing, bes- cause wanting rio disguise, look responsive of the whiteness of the region within ? How long will that air of innocence irradiate your whole appearance ? unspoilt by prosperity, unperverted by power ! pure in the midst of surioundin| depravity ! unsullied in the tainted air of infectious pCT- dition!" The confusion of Cecilia at this public address, which drew upon her the eyes and attention of all the company, was inexpressible ; she arose from her seat, coverfed with blushes, and saying, “I fancy the carriage must be ready,” pressed forward to quit the room, followed by Sir Robert, who answered, “No, no, they’ll call it when it comes up. Arnott, will you go and see where it is ?" Cecilia stopr, but whispered Mrs. Harrel to stand near her. “ And whither,*' cried Albany indignantly, “whither wouldst thou go ? Art thou already disdainful of my pre- cepts ? and canst thou hot one short moment spare from the tumultuous folly which encircles thee !* Many and many are the hours thou mayest spend with such as these ; the world, alas ! is full of them ; weary not then, so sooh, of all old man that would admonish thee, — he cannot call uboh thee long, for soon he will be called upon himself.” This solemn exhortation extremely distressed her, and fearing to still further offend him, by making another effort to escape, she answered in a low Voice, “ I will not only hear, but thank* you for yoiir precepts, if you will forbeat to give them before so many witnesses,” “ Whence,” cried he sternly,” these vain and superficial CECILIA. 281 distinctions ? Do you not dance in public ? What rcndqis you more conspicuous? Do you not dress to be admired, and war< ta be observed ? Why then this fantastical sctu- plc, unjustified by reason, unsupported by analogy ? is fol- ly only to be published ? Is vanity alone to be exhibited? Oh slaves of senseless contraction ! Oh feeble followers of yet feebler prejudice ! daring to be wicked, yet feaiing to be wise ; dauntless in levity, yet shi inking from the name of virtue !" The latter part of this speech, during which he turned with entigy to the whole company, raisc^d such a general alarm, that all the ladies hastily quitted the room, and all lire gentlemen endeavout ed to enter it, equally curious to see the man who made the oration, and the lady to whom it was addressed. Cecilia, therefore, found her situation in- supportable ; “I must go,” she cried, “ whether there is a carriage or not ! Pray, Mrs. Harrel, let us go 1” Sir Robert then offered to take her hand, which she was extremely ready to give him , but while the crowd made their passage difficult, Albany, following and stop- ping her, said, “ What is it you fear? a miserable old man, worn out by the sorrows of that experience from which he offers you counsel ? What, too, is it you trust ? a libertine wretch, coveting nothing but your wealth, for the gift of which he will repay you by the perversion of your principles !'' “ W’hat the d — 1 do you mean by that ?” cried the Baronet. “ To shew,” answered he, austerely, “ the inconsistency of false delicacy ; to shew how those who are too timid for truth, can feailess meet licentiousness ” “ For Heaven's sake. Sir,” cried Cecilia, “ say no moie to me now ! Call upon me in Portman square when you please,— rfeprove me in whatever you think me blameable, I shall be grateful for your instructions, and bettered, per- haps, by your care. — but lessons and notice thus public can do nothing but injury “ How happy,” cried he, “ were no other injuiy near thee ! spotless were then the hour of thy danger ; bright, fair, and refulgent thy passage to security ! the Good woulJ receive thee with praxie, the Guilty would supplicate tkf 2S2 CECILIA, prayeifs, the Poor would follow thee with blessings, and Children would be taught by thy example 1” He then quitted her, every body making way as he mov» ed, and proceeded into the great room. Mrs. Hairel’s car^ riage being also announced at the same time, Cecilia lost not an instant in hastening away. Sir Robert, as he conducted her, disdainfully laughedi^t the adventure, which the general licence allowed to Mr. Albany prevented his resenting, and which therefore he scorned ta appear moved at. , Mrs. Harrel could talk of nothing else, neither was Ceci- lia disposed to change the subject, for the remains of insa- nity which seemed t© hang upon him were affecting with- out being alarming, and her desire to know more of hita grew every instant stroriger. This desire, however, outlived not the conversation to which it gave rise : when she returned to her own room, no vestige of it remained upon her mind, which a hearer concern and deeper interest wholly occupied* The behaviour of young Delvile had pained, pleased, and disturbed her. His activity to save her from mischief might proceed merely from gallantry or good nature ; upon that, therefore, she dwelt little ; but his eagerness, his, anxiety^, bis insensibility to himsqlf, were more than good breeding could claim, and seemed to spring from ai. motive less artificial. She now, therefore, believed that her partialfiy was re- turned ! and this belief had power lO: shake all her resolves, and enfeeble all her objections. The arrogance of Mr. Delvile lessened in her reflections, the admonitions of Mr. Monckton abated in their influence. With the first she considered that though connected she need not live;- and for the second, though she acknowledged the e.xce Hence of his judgment, she concluded him wholly ignorant of her sentiments of Delvile ; which she imagined, when once revealed, would make every obstacle to the alliance seem (rifling, when put in competition with mutual esteem, arid affection- CECILIA. 2S3 chapter Hi. A REPJfVOF. THE att'^Htion of Cecilia to her oWn alFairS, did not tiiake her forgetful of those of the Harrels ; and the morning after the busy day which was last recorded, as soon as she quitted the breakfast-room, she began a note to Mr. Monck- lon, but was interrupted with information that he was al- ready in the house. She went to him immediately, and had the satisfaction of finding him alone ; but desirous as she was to relate to him the transactions of the preceding day, there was in his countenance a gravity so unusual, that her impatience was involuntarily checked, and she waited first to hear if he had himself any thing to communicate. He kept her not long in suspense: “Miss Beverley,” he said, “ I bring you intelligence which, though I know you will be very sorry to hear, it is absolutely necessary should be told to you immediately ; you may otherwise, from however laudable motives, be drawn into some action which you may repent for life.” “ What now !” cried Cecilia, much alarmed. “All that I suspected,” said he, “and more than I hinted to you, is true ; Mr Harrel is a ruined man ! he is not worth a groat, and he is in debt beyond what he ever possessed.” Cecilia iHadeno answer ; she knew but too fatally the desperate state of his affairs, yet that his debts were more than he had ever possessed, she had not thought possible. “ My enquiries,” continued he, “ have been among principals, and such as would not dare deceive me. I has- tened, therefore, to you, that this timely notice might en- force the injunctions I gave you when I had the pleasure of seeing you last, and prevent a misjudging generosity from leading you into any injury of your own fortune, for a man who is past all relief from it, and who caiinot be saved even though you were to be destroyed for his sake. “You are very good," said Cecilia, “ but your counsel is now too late!” She then briefly acquainted him with what had passed, and with how large a suinshe hau parted. 2 N 2 284 CECILIA. He heard her with rage, amazement, and hoiror ; and after inveighing against Mr. Hand in the bittertsc teims, he said, “ But why, before you signed your name to so base an imposition, could you not send for rne?” “ 1 wished — I meant to have done it,” cried she, “but I thought the time past when you could help me. How, indeed, could you have saved me? my word was given, given with an oath the most solemn, and the first I have ever taken in my life.” “ An oath so forced,” answered he, “ the most delicate conscience would have absolved you from performing. You have, indeed, been grossly imposed upon ; and, pardon me if I add, unaccountably to blame. Was it not obvious, that relief so circumstanced must be temporary ? If his ru- in had been any thing less than certain, what tradesman Would have been so insolent ? You have therefore deprived yourself of the power of doing good to worthier object, merely to grant a longer date to extravagance and villainy.” “Yet how,” cried Cecilia, deeply touched by this re- proof, “ how could J do otherwise? Could I see a man in the agonies of despair, hear him first darkly hint his own destruction, and afterwards behold him almost in the very act of suicide, the instrument of self-murder in his despe- rate hand — and yet, though he put his life in. my power, though he told me I could preserve him, and told me he had no other reliance or resource, could 1 leave him to his dreadful despondence, refuse my as.sisting hand to raise him from perdition, and to save what, after all, lam well able to spare, suffer a fellow-creature, who flung himself open my mercy, to offer 'up his last accounts with an action blacker than any which had preceded it ? — No, I cannot repent what I have done, though I lament, indeed, that the object was not more deserving.” “ Your repjfsentation,” said Mr. Monckton, “ like eve- ry thing else that I ever heard you utter, breathes nothing but benevolence and goodness ; but your pity has been abused, and your understanding imposed upon. Mr. Har- rcl had no intention to destroy himself ; the whole was an infamous trick, which, had not your generosity been too well known, would never have been played,” “I cannot think quite so ill of him,” said Cecilia, “nor CECILIA. 285 for the world would I have risked my own future reproach- es, by trusting to such a suspicion, which, had it proved wrong, and had Mr. Harrel, upon my refusal, committed the fatal deed, would have made his murder upon my own conscience rest for ever! Surely the experiment would have been too hazardous, when the consequence had all my future peace in its power.” “ It is impossible not to revere your sciupics,” said Mr. Monckton, “even while I consider them as causeless ; for causeless they undoubtedly were ; the man who could act so atrocious a part, who could so scandalously pillage a young lady who was his guest and his ward, take advantage of her temper for the plunder of her fortune, and extort her compliance by the basest and most dishonourable arts, meant only to teiiify her into compliance ; for he can be nothing less than a downright and thorough scoundrel, ca- pable of every species of mean villainy.” He then protested he would at least acquaint her other guardians with what had passed, whose business it would be to enquire if there was any chance of redress. Cecilia, however, had not much trouble in combating this proposal ; for though her objections, which were mere- ly those of punctilious honour and delicacy, weighed no- thing with a man who regarded them as absurdities, yet his own apprehensions of appealing too officious in her afF.iiis, forced him, after a little deliberation, to give up the design. “ Besides,” said Cecilia, “ as I have his bond for whit I have parted with, 1 have, at least, no right to complain, unless, after he receives his rents, he refuses to pay me.” “His bonds! his, rents!” exclaimed Mr. Monckton ; “ what is a man’s bond who is not worth a guinea ? and what are his rents, when all he ever owned must be sold before they .;;e due, and when he will not himself receive a penny fiom the sale, as he has neither land, house, nor pos- session of any sort, that is not mortgaged ? “Nay, then,” said Cecilia, “if so, it is indeed all over! I am sorry. I am grieved ! — but it is past, and nothing, therefore, remains, but iliat I try toforget I ever was richer !” “This is very youthful philosophy,” said Mr, Monck- ton ; “but it will not lessen your regret hereafter, when the value of money is better known to you.” CECILIA. “ If I shall dearly buy my experience," said Cecillia “let me be the moie atteniive to making good use of it; and, since my loss seems irremediable to myself, let meat least endeavour to secure its utility to Mr. Harrel.” She tljicn told him her wisli to prop^)Se to that gentleman some scheme of reformation, while yesterday's events were yet recent in his mind: but Mr. Monckton> who had hard* ly 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 ma- chinations, for you may else be involved in luin 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 GecUia ; “ he would in vairi apjMy to me in future : I cannot repent that I ventured not yes- terday to brave his menaces ; but too little is the comfort 1 feel from what I have bestowed^ to suffer any consideration to make me part with more.” “Your resolution,” answered he, “ will bt as feeble as your generosity will be potent : depend nothing upon your- self, 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 extri- cate himself from them, he has but to talk of dying, and to shew you a sword cr a pistol.” “ Jfso then,” said Cecilia, looking down while she spoke, “1 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, then 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 underhis roof he might again be as unrivalled in her opinion and es- teem, 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 repugniance to such an habitation was strongly, though silently increased by her secret inclination to return to St. James s-square. “ J mention not Mr. Briggs as an eligible host/' said CECILIA. 287 Mr. Monckton, after listening to her objections, “but merely as orie more proper for you. than Mr. Delvile, with whom your fixing at present would be but ill thought of in the world.” “ JU 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 ac- cord 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 res- pect to Sir Robert Floyer, he thought she had better suffer tfi- report to subside of itself, which in time it must neces- sarily do, than give to it so much consequerjee as to send a leiter to the Baronet, from which he might pretend to in- fer 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 confer- ence, was, however, wholly unanswered. Mr. Monckton^ enraged by the conduct ofMr. 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 hopes of amendment she so anxiously wished ; and having now no other person to, whom she co.old 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 supe-- rior abilities. There was, indeed, no time to be lost in making the pro^ jected attempt ; for no sooner was the immediate danger of suffering removed, than the alarm wore away, and the peni-. tence was forgotten ; every thing went on as usual : no new regulations were made, no. expcnces abated, no pleasures 288 CECILIA. forborne, 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. Arnoti 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 enter- tainment 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 irre- claimable, were hopeless prognostics ; yet Cecilia would not desist from her design. She therefore took the earliest op- portunity of speaking with Mr. Arnott upon the subject, when she openly expressed her uneasiness at the state ofhis 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 reti ieve their affairs , and con- cluded 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 task, told his sister their mutual advice. She thanked him, said she was much obliged to him, and would certainly con- sider 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 ear- nestly 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 CECILIA. 289 ulnady ruined, and ’therefore that she thought it tuould he 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 undeistanding ; and there- fore, though she listened to her with patience, she conclu- ded with the same aiiswer she had begun. Cecilia, then, though almost heartless, resolved upon talking to Mr. Harrel himself: and, therefore, taking an opportunity which he had not time to elude, she ingenu- ously 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 be- lieved he should now very speedily retrieve, as he had had the preceding night an, uncommon 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 uncer- tainty of so hazardous a reliance, and the inevitable evils of so destructive a practice. She made not, however, the least impression upon lus 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. Arnotr, who was yet more cruelly afflicted at it ; but though they conversed upon the subject by every opportunity, they were ecjually unable to relate any success ftom their efforts, or to devise any plan more likely to ensure it. "V ^ "W CHAPTER 17 J MISTAKE. MEANTIME young Delvile failed not to honoilt Cecilia's introduction of him ta Mr. Hmrel, by waltii g 2 0 8 VOL. I. 290 CECILIA. upon that gemienaan as soon as the ill effects of his accident at the' Pantheon permitted him to leave his own house. Mr. Barrel, 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. Barrel, 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 bad himself fared. No sign, however, of emotion appeared in return, either when he first addressed, or afterwards answered her: the look of solici- tude, 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 indiffer- ent 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 bis 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 ihecompan)!. 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 dis: tant, 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 ; hpt he had made appfrGatioa elsewhere^ which he bfifitved wwld be CEGIUA. 291 successful ; and he had communicated his proceedings to Mr. BelHeld, whose spirits he hoped would recover by this prospect of employment and adv'antaiie. “ It is, however, but too tiue,” he added, “ that I have rather obtained his coiisent 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 bis higher views, his spirit is broken, and he is heartless and hope- less, scarce condescending to accept relief, from the bitter remembrance that he expected preferment. Time, how- ever, 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 him- self ; or while we mean to serve, we shall only tor- ment him. Sickness, sorrow, and poverty, have all fal- len heavily upon him, and they have all fallen at once i we must not, therefore, wonder, to find him untractable, 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 Port man-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 letters 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 encjuire after, or Mrs. Han el gave him an invita- tion which rendered any excuse unnecessary. But though his intimacy with Cecilia, was encieased, 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 2 o2 292 CECILIA. his error should make him seek her good opinion with more study and design. To satisfy her not only concerning the brother but the sister, she again visited Miss Belfield, and had the pleasme 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 him* self 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 hei brother himself was rather led by shame than inclina- tion 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 gentle- men. “ Ha i" 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 vvhether fie ought not to retire, which Sir Robeit perceiving, bowing to film with an air of mingled triumph and vexatfon, and said, “ Sir, your most obedient !” CECILIA. £93 The doubt, however, in which every one appeared of what was next to be done, was immediately lernoved by the return of Mrs. Harrel, and the arrival, at almost the same moment, of more cornpany. The rest of the evening was spent, on the part of Cecilia, most painluily : the explanation she had planned had ended in worse than nothing, for by suffering the Baronet to detain her, she had rather shown 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 occa- sion no other alteration than that of rendering him more than usually assiduous to give way to Sir Robert W'henever he approached her. Nor was Sir Robert slack in taking advantage of this at- tention: 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 be- haviour of young Delvile, and mortified by the whole af- fair, determined to leave this mistake no longer in the pow- er of accident, but to apply immediately to Mr. Delvile, senior, and to desire him as her guardian to wait upon Sir Robert himself, and acquaint him, that his perseverence in pursuing her was both useless and offensive ; and by this method she hoped at once to disentangle herself for ever fiom 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. 294 CECILIA. CHAl^TER V AN EXPLANATION. THE following morning, therefore, Cecilia went early ta St. Jarties‘S'Square : and» after the ysual ceiemonies of mes^ sages and long waiting, she was shewn into an apartment where she found Mr. Delvile and his son. She rejoiced to see them together, atid determined to make known to them both the purjsort of her visit : and therefore, after some apologies, and a little hesitation, she told Mr. Delvile, that, encouraged by his ufTers 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 ; butCedlia, assuring himshe rather desired ^vhat she had ?o say, should be known than kept seciet, begged that he would not distUib himself. Delvile, pleased with this permisMOn to hear her, and curious tokijlow what would foUuw, very leadily returned to his seat. “ I should by no means,” she continued, “ have thought of proclaiming, even to the rndst intimate Of my friends, the |)ai liality which §^ir Robert Floyer has been pleased to shew me, had he left to me the choice of publishing or concc^l- iilg it ; but on thd contrary, his own behaviour seems ifi- lended not merely to display it, but to insinuate that it meets with my approb^tiion. Mr. Harrcl, also, urged by too touch warmth of friendship, has encouraged this bel#f: *dr, indeed, do I at present know 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 peesumed to solicit your advice in what manner 1 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 ac- counted for all that had perplext her in his conduct^ whKc it animated every expectaiion'she wished to encourage. “The behaviouc of Mr. Harrel,” answered Mr. Delvile, “has by no means been such as to lead me to forget that his father w^s the sort of a steward of Mr. Grant, who lived i» CECILIA, 295 the neighbourhood of my friend and itilation, the Duke of Derwent: nor can I sulHciently 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. Barrel and Mr. Briggs coadjutors with Mr, Delvile. This 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. Barrel, there- fore, 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 tp shorten this parading harangue, “ but as he neglected that attention, will you think me too impertinent should I entreat the favor ofyou to speak with Sir Robert yourself, and explain to him die total inefficacy of his pursuit, sihee my determination against him is unalterable?” Here the conference was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who said something to Mr. Delvile, which occa- sioned his apologising to Cecilia for leavi ng her for a few moments, and ostentatiously assuring her tfrat no business, however important, should preventhis thinkingofheraffaiis, 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 mark- ed 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 rnatter ; but for ray intimate friends, I have too few to make it probable they should ever have been so strangely msin formed. ' “ Pardon me,” cried he, “ it was from one who otight to know, that I had mvself the intelligence.” *‘I entreat you, then,” said Cecilia, “to acquaint me who it WdS.” 2% CECILIA. “ 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 hot any answer. “ Even yet,” continued he, “ I scarcely feel undeceived, your engagement seemed so positive, your connexion so irre- trievable, — so,— so Jixed, I mean. — ” He hesitated, a little embarrassed; but then suddenly exclaimed, “Yet whence, if to neither favourable, if alike indifferent to Sir Robert and to Belfield, whence that animated apprehension for their safety at the Opera-house ? whence that neverrto-be- forgotten, Oh stop him ! good God ! will nobody stop him /— Words ©f anxiety so tender ! and sounds that still vibrate on my ear !” Cecilia, struck with amazement in her turn at the strength of her 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. Del vile, 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 me 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 tiroes 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 to 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 CECILIA. 297 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 jie, “ I nevqr supposed any mistake, though sometimes I thought you repented your engagement. I concluded 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 your- self 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 offi- cious pretence of serving the most amiable of women,” “Mr. Harrel,” said Cecilia, “has been so strangely bi- goted to his friend, that in his eagerness to manifest his re- gard for him, he seems to have forgotten every other consi- deration ; he would not, else, have spread so widely a re- port that could so ill stand enquiry.” “ If Sir Robert,” returned he, ‘‘ is himself deceived while he deceives others, who can forbear to pity him? for my own part, instead of repining that I have hitherto beet) mis- taken, ought I not rather to bless an error that may have been my preservative from danger?” Cecilia, distressed in what mantiei: to support her part in the conversation, began now cQ, wish the return of Mr. Delvile ; and, not knowing else-tp say„ she expressed her surprise at his long ab,?.eace, “It is not, indeed^ well timed',” said young Delvile, “just now-rat inq. momeat.-'when — ” he siopt, and pre- sently exc la “ Oh dangerous inter val !” hearosefrqm his seat ii\ manifest, disorder. Ceq',l)a;arps? too, and hastily ringing the bell, said, Mr. L am sure is detained, and iherefojfe I will order chfjjv. and call another time.” ‘‘ Do I frighten -you away ?” said an appear- ance mojc placid. VOL. I. 2 P 8 28& CECILIA. “No,’^ answered she, “but I would not hasten Mr. Del vile.” A servant then catne, and said the chair was ready. She would immediately have followed him, but young Delvile again speaking, she stopt a moment to hear him, “I fear,” said he, with much hesitation, “ Irhavc strangely exposed myself and that you cannot — but the extreme astonishment--” he stopt again, in the utmost confusion, and then adding, “ you will permk me to attend you to the chair,” he handed her down stjiirs, and ifi quitting her, bowed without saying a word more. Cecilia, who was almost wholly indiffpKnti to every part ol the explanation but that which had actually passed, was now in a state of felicity more delightful lh?n any she had, ever experienced. She had not a doubt remaining of her influence over the niind of young Delvile, and the surprise which had made him rather betray than express his regard, was infinitely more flattering and satisfactory to her than any formal or direct declaration. She had now convinced him she was disengaged, and in return, though without seaming to intend it, he had convinced her of the deep in- terest which he took in the discovery. His perturbation, the words which escaped him, and his evident struggle to say no more, were pi oofs just such as she wished to receive of his partial admiration, since while they satisfied her heart, they also soothed her pride, by shewing a diffidence of success, which assured her that her own secret was still sacred, and that no weakness or inadvertency on her pait had^ j^obbed her of the power of mingling dignity with the frankness with which she meant to receive his addresses. All, therefore, that now employed her care, was. to keep off any indissoluble engagement till each should be better known to the other. For this reserve, however, she had less immediate occa- sion than she expected ; she saw no more of young Delvile that day; neither did he appear tlic next. The third she fully expected him, — but still he came not. And while, she wondered at an absence so uncommon, she received a, note from Lord Ernolf, to beg permission to wait upon her for two minutes, at any time she would appoint. She readily sent word that she should be at home for the CECILIA. 299 itn of the day, as she wished more for an opportunity of immediately finishing every affair but one, and setting her mind at liberty to think, only of that which she desired should prosper. Lord Ernolf was with her in half an heur. She found him sensible and well bred, extremely desirous to promote her alliance with his son, and apparently as much pleased with herself as with her fortune. He acquainted her that he had addressed himself to Mr. Harrel long since, but had been informed that she was actually engaged to Sir Robert Floyer: he should therefore have forborne taking up any part of her time, had he not, the preceding day, while on a visit at Mr. Delvile's, been assured that Mr. Harrel was mistaken, and that she had not yet declared for any body. He hoped, therefore, that she would allow his son the ho- nour of waiting upon her, and permit him to talk with Mr. Briggs, who he understood was her acting guardian, upon such matters as ought to be speedily adjusted. Cecilia thanked him for the honour he intended her, and confirmed tlie truth of the account he had heard in St. James's square, but at the same lithe told him she must decline receiving any visits from his lordship’s son, and en- treated him to take no measure towards the promotion of an affair which never could succeed. He seemed much concerned at her answer, and endea- voured for some time to soften her, but found her so steady, though civil in her refusal, that he was obliged, hoAever unwillingly, to give up his attempt. Cecilia, when he was gone, reflected with much vexation on the readiness of the Delvile’s to encourage his visit , she considered, however, that the intelligence he had heard might possibly be gathered in general conversation ; but she blamed herself that she had not led to some enquiry what pari of the family he had seen, and who was present when the information was given him. Mean while she found that neither coldness, ’distance, nor aversion, were sufficient to repress Sir Robert Floyer, who continued to persecute her with as much confident e of success as could have arisen from the utmost encourage- menr. She again, though with much difficulty, contrived to speak with Mr. Harrel upon the subject, and openly 2 p 2 300 CECILIA, ^accused him of spreading a report abroad, as well as coun- tenancing an expectation at home, that had neither truth "nor jastice to support them. Mr. Harrcl, with his usual levity and carelessness, laugh- ed at the ‘Charge, but denied any belief in her displeasure, and affected to think she was merely playing the coquet, while Sir Robert was not the less her decided choice. Provoked and wearied, Cecilia resolved no longer to de- pend upon any body but herself for the management of her awn afifairs ; and therefore, to conclude the business with- out any possibility of further cavilling, she wrote the follow- ing note to Sir Robert herself. TO SIE ROBERT FLQYER, BART. M iss Beverley presents her compliments to Sir Robert Floyer, and as she has some reason'lo fear Mr. Harrel did not explicitly acquaint him with her answer to the commis- sion with which he was entrusted, she thinks it necessary, in order' to obviate any possible misunderstanding, to take this method of returning him thanks for the honour of his good opinion, but of begging at the same lime that he would not lose a moment upon her account, as her thanks are all she can now, or ever,'offcr in ret^irn. Portman-Squarc, Maj> 11th, 1779. To this note Cecilia received no answer : but she had the pleasure to observe that Sir Robert forbore his usual visit on the day she sent it, and though he appeared again the day folldwing, he never spoke to her, and seemed sullen and out of humour. Yet still young Delvile came not, and still, as her sur- prise encreased, her tranquillity was diminished. She could form no excuse for his delay, nor conjecture any reason for his absence. Every motive seemed to favour his seek- ing, and not one his shunning her: the explanation which had so lately passed had informed him he had no rival to fear, and the manner in which he had heard it, assured her the information was not indifferent to him ; why, then, 60 assiduous in his visits when he thought her engaged, CECILIA. 3oi 2nd so sl2ck in sll attcnd3nce when he knew she W2S 2C liberty ? CHAPTER VI. A MUBMURING, UNABLE to relieve bcrselffrom this perplexity, Cecilia, to divert her ch igrin, again visited Miss Beifield. She had then the pleasure to hear that her brother was much reco- vered, and had been able, the preceding day, to take an air- ing, which he had borne so well, that Mr Rupil had char- ged him to use the same exercise every morning. “ And will he?” said Cecilia. “No, Madam, I am sadly afraid not,” she answered, “ for coach hire is very expensive, and we are willing, now, to save all we can in order to help fitting him out for going abroad.” Cecilia then earnestly entreated her to' accept of some assistance ; but she assured her she did not dare without the consent of her mother, which, however, she undertook to obtain. The next day when Cecilia called to hear her success, Mrs, Beifield, who hitherto had kept out of sight, made her appearance. She found her alike in person, manners, and conversation, a coarse and ordinary woman, not more unlike her son in talents and acquired accomplishments, than dissimilar to her daughter in softness and natural delicacy. The moment Cecilia was seated, she began, without waiting for any ceremorry, or requiring any solicitation, abrubtly to talk of her affairs, and repiningly to relate her misfortunes. “ I find madam,” she said, “ you have been so kind as to visit my daughter Henny a great many times, but as I have no time for company. 1 have always kept out of the way, having other things to do than sit still to talk. I have had a sad time of it here, ma'am, with my poor son’s illness, having no conveniences about me, and much ado to make him mind me; for he’s ail for havdng his own 302 CECILIA. wayj poor dear soul ; and I am sure I don’t know whd could contradict him, for it's what I never had the heart to do. But then, madam, what is to come of it ? You see^ how bad things go ! for though I have got a very good in- come, it won’t do for every thing. And if it was as much again, I should want to save it all now. For here my poor son, you see, is reduced all in a minute, as one may say, from being one of the first gentlcmert in the town, to a mere poor object, without a farthing in the world !” “He is, however, I hope, now much better in his health?’’ said Cecilia. “Yes, madam, thank heaven: for if he was worsen those might tell of it that would, for I am sure 1 should never live to hear of it. He has been the best son in the world, madam, and used nothing but the best company, for I spared neither pains nor cost to bring him up genteely, and I believe there’s not a nobleman in the land that looks more the gentleman. However, there's come no good of it, for though his acquaintances were all among the first quality, he never received the value of a penny from the best of them. So I have n© great need to be proud. But I irieant for the best, though I have often enough wished I had not meddled in the matter, but left him to be brought up in the shop, as his father was before him." “His present plan, however," said Cecilia, “will, I hope, make you ample amends both for your sufferings and your tenderness.” What, madam, when he is going to leave me, and settle in foreign parts? If you was a mother yourself, ma- dam, you would not think that such good amends." “ Settle?” said Cecilia, “No, he only goes for a year or two.” ^ That’s more than I can say, madam, or any body else ; and nobody knows what may happen in that time. And how I shall keep myself up when he's beyond seas ; I am sure I don’t know, for he has always been the pride of my life, and every penny I saved for him, I thought to have been paid in pounds.” “You will still have your daughter, and she seems so amiable, that I am sure you can want no consolation she will not endeavour to give you.” CECILIA. 3D3 " But what is a daughter, madam, to such a son as mine ? a son that 1 thought to have seen living like a prince, and sending his own coach for me to dine with him, and now he’s going to be taken away from me, and nobody knows if Ishail live till he comes back. But I may thank myself, for if 1 had but been content to see him brought up in the shop — — yet all the world would have cried shame upon it, for when he was quite a child in arms, the people used all to say he was born to be a gentleman, and would live to make many a fine lady's heart ache.” “ If he can but make your heart easy,” said Cecilia, smiling, “ we will not grieve that the fine ladies should es- cape the prophecy.” “ O, madam, 1 don't mean by that to say he has ever been over gay among the ladies, for it’s a thing I never heard of him ; and 1 date say if any lady was to take a fancy to him., she’d find that there was not a modester young man in the world. But you must needs think what a hardship it is to me to have him turn out so unlucky, after all I have done for him, when I thought to have seen him at the top of the tree, as one may say !” “ I^e will yet, I hope,” said Cecilia, “ make you rejoice in all your kindness to him : his health is already return- ing, and his affairs wear again a more prosperous aspect.” “ Bui do you suppose, madam, that having him sent two or three hundred miles away from me, with some young master to take care of, is the way to makeup to me what I have gone through for him ? why I used to deny myself every thing in the world., in order to save money to buy him smart clothes, and let him go to the Opera, and Kanelagh, and such sort of places, that he might keep him- self in fortune’s way ! and now you see the end of it! here he is in a little shabby room up two pair of stairs, with not one of the great folks coming near him, to see if he’s so much as dead or alive.” I do not wonder,” said Cecilia, “ that you resent their shewing solittle gratitude for the plcasureand entertainment they have formerly received from him : but tomfort your- self that it will at least secure you from any similar (lis CHAPTER X. ^ DETECTION. A FORTNIGHT had now elapsed in which Cecilia had had no sort of communication with the Del viles, whom equally from pride and from prudence she bore to seek herselL when one morning, while Miss Belfield was sitting with her, she was told by her maid that young Mr. Delvile was in the drawing-room, and begged the honour of seeing her for a few moments. Cecilia, though she started and changed colour with sur- prise at this message, was unconscious slae did either, from the yet greater surprize she received by the behaviour^ of Miss Belfield, who hastily arising, exclaimed, “Good God, Mr. Delvile! do you know Mr Delvile, madam ? — does Mr. Delvile visit at. this house?'’ “ Sometimes; not often,” answered Cecilia; “but' why ?”* “ I don’t know, — nothing,~madam, — I only asked by accident, I believe— -bar, it’s very — it’s extremely— I did f^ot know” ~ and colouiing Violently, she again sat down. An apprehension the most painful now took possession of Cecilia, and absorbed in thought, she continued for some minutes silent and immoveable. From this state she was awakened by her maid, who asked if she chose to have her gloves. Cecilia, taking them from her without speaking, left th# CECILTA. 335 toOnti, and not daring to scop for enquiry or consideration, liastened down stairs* but when she entered the apartment where young Delvile was waiting for her, all utterance seemed denied her, and she courfseyed without saying a word. Struck with the look and uncommon manner of her eii' trance, he became in a moment as much disturbed as her- self, pouring foith a thousand unnecessary and embarrassed apologies for his visit, and so totally forgetting even the reason why he made it, that he liad taken his leave, and was departing before he recollected it. He then turned back, forcing a laugh at his own absence of mind, and told her he had only called to acquaint her, that the commands with which she had honoured iiim were now obeyed, and,' he hoped to her satisfaction. Cecilia, W'ho knew not she had ever given him any, waited his further explanation ; and he then informed her, he had that very morning introduced Mr. Beltield to the Earl of Vannelr, who had already heard him very advanta- geously spoken of by some gentlemen to vhoin he had been known at the University, and who was so much pleased with bi n upon this first interview, that he meant, after a few enquiries, which could not but turn out to his credit, to commit his eldest son to his trust in making the tour of Europe. Ce. ilia thanked him for her share in the trouble he had taken in this transaction ; and then asked if Mrs. Delvile continued well. “ Yes,” ansvvered he with a smile half reproachful, “ as well as one whq having ever hoped your favour, can easily be after finding that hope disappointed. But much as she has taught her son, there is one lesson she might perhaps learn from him ; — to fly, not seek, those dangerous indul- genciesof which the deprivation is the loss of peace !” He then bowed, and made his exit. This unexpected reproof, and the yet more unexpected compliment that accompanied it, -in both which more seemed meant than met the ear, encreased tlie perturbation, into wlvich Cecilia had already been thrown. It occurred to her, that under the sanction of his mother s name, he had taken an opportunity of making an apoiogy for his own CM III A, MS conintei^st in what was passing, and tenderly approaching, ^embraced her with the utmost kindness : but still Spoke not, fearing to make any enquiry, from dreading to •^hear any explanation. Miss Beifield, soothed by her softness, clung aboiat: bet, and hiding her face in her arras, sobbed out, ^ “ Ah madam ! who ought to be unhap^Dy if befriended' by you ! if I could help it, I would love nobody else in altoost '^t'ho whole world. But you must 4et me leave you now, and io-dlorrow I will tell you ev'ery thing.” Gechia, who had no wish for making any opposfRoil) ■fimbaraced her again , and suffered her quietly 'to depart j CECILIA. 337 Her own mind was now in a state of the utmost confu- sion. The rectitude of lier heart and the soundness of her judgment had hitherto guarded her both fiom error and blame, and, except during her recent suspense, had pre- set ved her tranquillity inviolate : but her commerce wdth the world had been small and confined, and her actions had had little reference but to herself. The case was now al- tered ; and she w\as suddenly in a conjecture of all others the most delicate, that of accidentally discovering a rival in a favourite Iriend. The fondness she had conceived for Miss Belfield, and the sincerity of her intentions as well as promises to serve her, made the detection of this secret peculiarly cruel ; she had lately felt no pleasuie but in her society, and looked forward to much future comfort from the continuance of her regard, and from their constantly having lived together: but, now this was no longer even to be desired, since the ut- ter annihilation of the wishes of both, by young Delvile's being disposed of to a tliird person, could alone render eligi- ble their dwelling under the same roof. Her pity, however, for Miss Belfield, was almiost w^holly unallayed by jealousy ; she harboured not any suspicion that she was loved by young Delviie, whose aspiring spirit led her infinitely more to fear some higher rival, than to believe he bestowed even a thought upon the poor Henri- etta : but still she wished wdth the utmost ardour to know the length of their acquaintance, how often they had met, when they had conversed, what notice he had taken of her, and how so dangerous a preference had invaded her heart. But though this curiosity was both natural and powerful, her principal concern was the arrangement of her own con- duct : the next day Miss Belfield was to tell her every thing by a voluntary promise ; but she doubted if she had any right to accept such a confidence. Ahss Belfield, she was sure, knew not she was interested in the tale, since she l)ad not even imagined that Delviie was known to her. She might hope, therefore, not only for advice but assist- ance, and fancy that while siie reposed her secret in the bo- som of a friend, she secured herself her best offices and best wishes for ever. Would she obtain them "" no ; the most romamic 2 U 9 VOL, I. 338 CECILIA. generosity would revolt from such a demand, for however precarious was her own chance with young Delvile, Miss Belfield, she was sure, could not have any ; neither her birth nor education fitted her for his rank, in life, and even were both unexceptionable, the smallness of her fortune, as Mr. Monckton had instructed her, would be an obstacle insurmountable. Would it not be a kind of treachery to gather from her every thing, yet aid her in nothing ? to take advantage of her unsuspicious openness, in oider to learn ail that related to one whom she yet hoped would belong ultimately to herself, and gratify an interested curiosity at the expencc of a candour not more simple than amiable ? “ No,” cried Cecilia, “arts that I could never forgive, I never will practise ; this sweet but unhappy girl shall tell me nothing : betrayed already by the tenderness of her own heart, she shall at least sufer no further from any duplicity in mine. If, indeed, Mr. Delvile, as I suspect, is engaged elsewhere, I will make this gentle Henrietta the object of my future solicitude ; the sympathy of our situations will not then divide but unite us, and 1 will take her to my bosom, hear all her sorrows, and calm her troubled spirit by participat- ing in her sensibility. But if, on the contrary, this mystery ends more happily for myself, if Mr. Delvile has now no other engagement, and hereafter clears his conduct to my satisfaction, 1 will not be accessary to loading her future recollection with the shame of a conhdence she then cannot but repent, nor with an injury to her delicacy that may wound it for ever." She determined, therefore, carefully to avoid the'subject for the present, since she could offer no advice for which she might not, hereafter, be suspected of selfish motives ; but yet, from a real regard to the tender-hearted girl, to give ali the tacit discouragement that vsas in her power to a passion which she firmly believed would be ptoductiveof nuihins but misery. Once, from the frankness natural to her disposition, shf th ought not merely of receiving, but returning her conh- dence: her better judgment, however, soon led her from S( hazardous a plan, which could only have exposed then both to a romantic humiliation, by which, in the end CECILIA. 339 their mutual expectations might prove sources of mutual distrust. When Miss Belfield, therefore, the next morning, her air unusually timid, and her whole face covered with blushes, made her visit, Cecilia, not seeming to notice her confusion, told her she was very sorry she was obliged to go cut herself, and contrived, under various pretences, to keep her maid in the room. Miss Belfield, supposing this to be accidental, rejoiced in her imaginary reprieve, and soon recovered her usual chearfulness : and Cecilia, who really meant to call upon Mrs. Delvile, borrowed Mrs. Harrel’s carriage, and set down her artless young friend at her new lodgings in Portland-street, before she proceeded to 5t James's square, talking the whole time upon matters of litter indifference. CHAPTER XI. A SAL CASH. THE reproach which Cecilia had received from young Delvile in the name of his mother, determined her upon making this visit ; for though, in her present uncertainty, she wished only to see that family when sought by them- selves, she was yet desirous to avoid all appearance of sin- gularity, lest any suspicions should be raised of her senti- ments. Mrs. Delvile received her with a cold civility that chilled and afflicted her : she found her seriously offended by her long absence, and now for the first time perceived that haughtiness of character which hitherto she had thought only given to her by the calumny of envy ; for though her displeasure was undisguised, she designed not to make any reproaches, evidently shewing that her disappoint- ment in the loss of her society was embittered by a proud regret for the kindness she believed she had thrown away. But though she scrupulously forebore the smallest complaint, jhe failed hot from time to time to cast out reflections upon fickleness and caprice the most satirical and pointed. Cecilia^ who could not possibly avow the motives ofhei 2 u 2 340 CECILIA. behaviour, ventured not to offer any apology foi her appaient negligence ; but, hitherto accustomed to the rnosi distinguished kindness, a change to so much bitteiness, shocked and overpowered her, and she sat almost wholly silent, and hardly able to look up. Lady Honoria Pemberton, a daughter of the Duke of Derwent, now came into the room, and afforded her some relief by the sprightliness of her conversation. H his young lady, who was a relation of the Delviles, and of a character the most airy and unthinking, ran on during her whole visit in a vein of fashionable scandal, with a levity that the censures of Mrs. Delvile, though by no means spared, had no powertocontroul : and after having completely ran.sacked the topics of the day, she turned suddenly to Cecilia, with whom, during her residence in St. James's-square, she had made some acquaintance, and said, “ So I hear, Miss Beverley, that after half the town has given you to Sir Robeit Floyer, and the other half to my Lord Derford, you intend, without regarding one side or the other, to disappoint them both, and give yourself to Mr. Maniot.” “Me! no, indeed,” answered Cecilia, “ your ladyship has been much misinformed,” “ 1 hope so,.” said Mrs. Delvile, “for Mr. Marrlot. by all 1 ever heard of him, seems to have but one recommen- dation, and that the last Miss Beverley ought to value, a good estate.” Cecilia, secretly delighted by a speech which she could not resist flattering herself had reference to her son, now a little revived, and endeavoured to bear some part in the conversation, “Every body one meets,” cried Lady Honoria, “dis- poses of Miss Beverley to some new person • yet the com- mon opinion is, that Sir Robert Floyer will be the man. But upon my word, for my own part, I cannot conjecture how she will manage among them, for Mr. Marriot declares he’s determined he won't be refused, and Sir Robett vows that he'll never give her up. So we none of us know how it will end : but 1 am vastly glad she keeps them so long in suspense.” “If there is any suspense,” said Cecilia, “ I am at least CECILIA. 341 sure it must be wilful. But why should your ladyship, rejoice in it ?” “ O, because it helps to torment them, and keeps some- thing going forward. Besides, we are all looking in the newspapers every day, to see when ih- y’li fight another duel fur you.” “ Another ?” cried Cecilia ; indeed they have never yet fought any for me.” “ O, I beg your pardon,” answered her ladyship, “Sir Robert, you know, fought one for you in the beginning of the winter, with that liish fortune-hunter who affronted you at the Opera.” “Irish fortune-hunter?” repeated Cecilia, “how strangely has that quarrel been misrejjicsentod ! In the fust place, I never w'as affronted at the Opera at all, and in the second, if your ladyship means Mr. BOfield, I question if ever he was in Ireland in his life.” “ Vv’ell,” cried Lady Hon ria, “he might come from Scotland, f.r ought 1 know, but somewhere he certainly came from ; and they tell me he is w’ounded terribly, and Sir Robert has had all his things packed up this month, that in case he should die, he may go abroad in a mo- ment.” “And pray where, Lady Honoria,” cried Mrs, Delvile, “do you contrive to pick up all this rattle?” “O, I don’t know ; every body tells me something, so I put it all together as well as I can. But I 'could acquaint you with a stranger piece of news than any you have heard yet.” “ And what is that ?” “ O, if I let you know it, you’ll tell your son.” “No, indeed,” said Mrs. Delvile, laughing, “ I shall probably forget it myself.” She then made some further difficulty, and Cecilia, uncertain if she was meant to be a party in the communica- tion, strolled to a window ; where, however, as Lady Hono- ria did not lower her voice, she heard her say, “ Why you must know, 1 am told he keeps a mistress Sotoewlltre in Oxford-ioad. They say she's mighty pretty ; 1 should like vastly to see her.” The consternation of Cecilia, at this intelligence would 342 CECILIA. certainly have betrayed all she so much wished to conceal^ had not her fortunate removal to the window guarded her from observation. She kept her post, fearing to look lound, but was much pleased when Mrs. Delvile, with great indig- nation, answered, “I am sorry, Lady Honoria, you can find any amusement in listening to such idle scandal, which those who tell never respect you for hearing. In times less daring in slander, the cha^racter pf Mortimer would have proved to him a shield from all injurious aspersions ; yet who should wonder he could not escape, and who shall contemn the inventors of calumny, if Lady Honoria Pem- berton condescends to be entertained with it?^’ “ Dear Mrs. Delvile," cried Lady Honoria, giddily, “ you take me too seriously.” “ And dear Lady Honoria,” said Mrs. Delvile, “ I wish it was possible to make you take yourself seriously ; for could you once see with clearness and piecision how much you lower your own dignity, while you stoop to depreciate that of others, the very subjects that now make your diver- sion, would then, far more properly, move your resentment.” “Ay but, dear madam,” cried Lady Honoria, “if that were the case, 1 should be quite perfect, and then you and I should never quarrel, and 1 don’t know what we should do for conversuion.” And with these words, hastily shaking hands with her, she took leave. “ Such conversation,” said Mis. Delvile, when she was gone, “ as results from the mixture of fruitless admonition with incorrigible levity, would be indeed more honoured in the breach than the observance. But levity is so much the fashionable characteristic of the present age, that a gay young girl who, like Lady Honoria Pemberton, rules the friends by whom she ought to be ruled, had little chance of escaping it.” “3he seems so open, however, to reproof,” said Geciliai “ that I should hope, in a short time, she may also, be open to conviction.” “ No,” answered Mrs. Delvile, “ I have na hope of her at all. I once took much pains with her, but I soon found that the easiness with which she hears of her faults, is only another effect of the levity with which shv con:tmits them. CECILIA. QS 2 J But Jf the young arc never tired of erring in conduct, neither are the older in erring in judgment ; the fallibility of mine I have indeed very lately experienced.” Cecilia, who strongly felt the poignancy of this sarcasm, and whose constant and unaffected value of Mrs. Delvile by no means deserved it, was again silenced, and again most cruelly depressed ; nor could she secretly forbear repining, that at the moment she found herself threatened with a necessity of foregoing the society of her new favourite, Pvliss Belficld, the woman in the whole world, whom she most wished to have for a fiiend, from an unhappy mistake, was leady to relinquish her. Grieved to be thus fallen in her esteem, and shucked that she could offer no justification, after a short and thoughtful pause, she gravely arose to taka leave. Mrs. Delvile then told her that if she had any business to transact with Mr. Delvile, she advised her to acquaint him witliit soon, as the whole family left town in a few days. This was a new and severe blow to Cecilia, who sorrow- fully repeated, “In a few days, madam ?” “Yes,” answered Mrs. Delvile ; “I hope you intend to be much concerned !” “Ah, madam!” cried Cecilia, who could no lonc^er preserve her quietness, “ if you knew but half the respect I bear you, but half the respect with which I value and re- vere you, all protestations would be useless, for all accusa- tions would be over. Mrs. Delvile, at once surprised and softened by th-: v/armth of this declaration, instantly took her hand, an;: said, “They shall nowand for ever be over, if it pain- you to hear them. 1 concluded that what I said would b a matter of indifference to you, or all my displeasure wouK. i-nmediately have been satisfied, when once L had intima ted that your absence had excited it.” “That I have excited it at all,” answered Cecilia, “ give, me indeed the severest uneasiness ; but believe me, madarr iiuuever unfortunately appearances may be against me, have always had the highest sense of the kindness witi; whiefj you have honoured me, and never has there beer lire smallest abatement in the veneration, giatitude, and at feccion, I have inviolably borne you.” 544 CECILIA. “You sec, then,” said Mrs. Delvile, with a smile, that where reproof takes any effect, it is not received with that uneasiness you were just now admiring: on the contrary, wheie a concession is made without pain, it is also made without meaning, for it is not in human nature to project any amendment without a secret re- pugnance. That there, however, you should differ from Lady Honoria Pembeiton, who can w’onder, when yon are superior to all comparison with her in every thing ?” “Will you then,” said Cecilia, “accept my apology, and forgive me ?” “1 will do mote,” said Mrs. Delvile, laughing, “I will forgive you without an apology ; for the truth is I have heard none ! But come,” continued she, perceiving Ce- cilia much abashed by this comment, “ I will enquire no more about the matter ; lam glad to receive my young friend again, and even half ashamed, deserving as she is, to say how glad !” She then embraced her affectionately, and owned she had ^been more mortified by her fancied desertion than she had been willing to own even to herself, repeatedly assuring her, that for many years she had not made any acquaintance she so much wished to cultivate, nor enjoyed any society from which she had derived so much pleasure. Cecilia, whose eyes glistened with modest joy, while her heart beat quick with revived expectation, in listening to an effusion of praise so infinitely grateful to her, found little difficulty in returning her friendly professions, and, in a few minutes, was not merely reconciled, but more firmly united with her than ever. Mrs. Delvile insisted upon keeping her to dinner, and Cecilia, but too happy in her earnestness, readily agreed to send Mrs. Harrel an excuse. Neither of the Delviles spent the day at home, and no- thing, therefore, disturbed or interrupted those glow'ing and delightful sensations which spring from a cordial renewal of friendship and kindness, The leport, indeed, of Lady Honoria Pemberton gave her some uneasiness ; yet the flighty character of that lady, and Mrs. Delvile’s teply to it, soon made her drive it from her mind. CECILIA. 345 She returned home early in the evening, as other compa- ny was expected, and she tiad not changed her dress since the morning ; but she first made a promise to see Mrs. Delvile some part of every day during the short time that she meant to remain in town. CHAPTER XII, A SURMISE. THE next morning opened with another scene; Mrs. Harrel ran into Cecilia s room before breakfast, and acquainted her that Mr. Harrel had not been at home all night. The consternation with which she heard this account she instantly endeavoured to dissipate, in order to soften the apprehension with which it was communicated : Mrs. Har I el, however, was extremely uneasy, and sent all the town over to make enquiiies, but without receiving any intelligence. Cecilia, unwilling to leave her in a state of such alarm, wrote an excuse to Mrs. Delvile, that she might continue with her till some information was procured. A subject also of such iinm dlate concern was sufficient apology for avoiding any [)ariiculur conversation with Miss Belfield, who called as usual about noon, and whose susceptible heart was much affected by the evident disturbance in which she found Cecilia. The whole day passed, and no news arrived : but, great- ly to her astonishment, Mrs. Harrel in the evening prepared for going to an assembly! yet declaring, at the same time, it was extremely disagreeable to her, only she was afraid, if she stayed away, every body would suppose something was the matter “ Who then at last,” thought Cecilia, “are half so much the slaves of the world as the gay and the dissipated ? Those who work for hire have at least their hours of rest ; those who labour for subsistence, are at liberty when subsis- tence is procured ; but those who toil to please the vain and the idle, undertake a task which can never be finished, VOL. I. 2 X 10 346 CECILIA. however scrupulously all private peace, and all internal comfort, m ly be sacrificed in reality to the folly of saving appearances !” Losing, however, the motive for which she had given up her own engagement, she now sent for her chair, in order to spend an hour or two with Mrs. Delvile. The servants, as they conducted her up stairs, said they •would call their lady ; and on entering the drawing room she saw, reading and alone, y .>ung Delvile. He 'seemed much surprised, but received her with the utmost respect, apologising for the absence of his mother, whom he said had understood she was not to see her till the next day, and had left him to write letters now, that she might then be at liberty. Cecilia in return made excuses for her seeming inconsis- tency ; after which, for some time, all conversation dropt. The silence was. at length broken by young Delvile’s say- ing, “ Mr. Belfield’s meiit has not been thrown away upon Lord Vannelt ; he has heard an excellent character of him from all his former acquaintance, and is now fitting up an apartment for him in his own house till his son begins his tour.” Cecilia said she was very happy in hearing such intelli- ligence ; and then again they were both siiem. “You have seen,” said young Delvile, after this second pause, “Mr. Belfield's sister?” Cecilia, not without chjuging colour, answered, “ Yes, Sir.” “She is very amiable,” hecontinued, “too amiable^ indeed, for her situation, since her relations, her brother alone excepted, are all utterly unworthy of her.” He stopt ; but Cecilia made no answer, and he presently added, “ Perhaps you do not think her amiable? you may have seen moie of her, and know something to her disadvantage ?” “Ono!” cried Cecilia, with a forced alacrity, “but only I was thinking that did you say you knew all her relations “ No,” he answered, “but when I have been with Mr. Belfield, some of them have called upon him.” Again they were both silent ; and then Cecilia, ashamed CECitTA. 347 fof her apparent backwardness to give praise, compelled herself to say, “Miss Bclfield is indeed a very sweet girl, and I wish — ” she stopt, not well knowing herself what she meant to add. “I have been greatly pleased,” said he, after waiting sometime to hear if she would finish her speech, “by being informed of your goodness to her, and I think she seems equally to require and to deserve it. I doubt not you will extend it to her when she is deprived of her brother, for then will be the time that by doing her most service, it will reflect on yourself most honour.” Cecilia, confounded by this recommendation, faintly answered, “Certainly, — whatever is in my power, I shall be very glad ” And just then Mrs. Delvile made her appearance, and during the mutual apologies that followed, her son left the room. Cecilia, glad of any pretence to leave it also, insisted upon giving no interruption to Mrs. Delvile's letter writing, and having promised to spend all the next day with her, hurried back to her chair. The reflections that followed her thither were by no means the most soothing; she began now to apprehend that the pity she had bestowed upon Miss Bclfield, Miss Belfield in a short time might bestow upon her : at any other time, his recommendation would merely have served to confirm her opinion of his benevolence, but in her pre- sent state of anxiety and uncertainty, every thing gave birth to conjecture, and had power to alarm her. He had beha- ved to her of late with the strangest coldness and distance, — his piaise of Henrietta had been ready and animated Henuetta she knew adored him, and she knew not with what reason, — but an involuntary suspicion arose in her mind, that the partiality she had herself once excited, was now transferred to that little dreaded, but not less dangerous rival Yet, if such was the case, what was to become either of the pii .e or the intciest of the family Would his re ations evei p rdon an alliance simulated neither by rank nor riches? would Mr. Dciviie, who hardly ever spoke but to thv high boin, without seeming to think his dignity some- what injured, deign to re^ eiv< lor a daughter-in-law the 348 CECILIA. child of a citizen and tradesman ? Would Mrs. DelvIIc herself, little less elevated in her notions, though intinitely softer in her manners, ever condescend to acknowledge her? Cecilia’s own birth and connexions^ superior as they were to those of Miss Belheld, were even openly dis- dained by Mr. Delvile, and all her expectations of being received into his family were founded upon the largeness of her fortune, in favor of which the brevity of her genealogy might perhaps pass unnoticed. But v\hat was the chance of M iss Belfield, who neither had ancestors to boast, nor wealth to allure ? This thought, however, awakened all the generosity of her soul : “ If," cried she, “the advantages I possess are merely those of riches, how little should I be flattered by any appeaiances of preference ! and how ill can I judge with what sincerity it may be afforded ! happier in that case is the lowly Henrietta, who to poverty may arnibutc neglect, but who can only be sought and caressed from mo- tiver of purest regard. She loves Mr. Delvile, loves him with the most artless affection : — perhaps, too, he loves her in return, — why else his solicitude to know my opinion of her, and why so sudden his alarm when he thought it unfavourable? Perhaps he mea,.s to marry her and to sacrifice to her innocence and her attractions all plans erf ambition, and all views of aggrandizement ; - thrice happy Henrietta, if such is thy prospect of felicity ! to have inspired a passion .so disinterested, may humble tlie most insolent of thy superiors, and teach even the wealthiest to envy thee!" CECILIA. .i49 BOOK Y. CHAPTER L A BOLD STBOKE. HEN Cecilia returned home, she heard, with imich concern, that no tidint>s of Mr, Haricl had yet been obtained. Plis lady, who did not stay out late, was now very seriously fiightened, and entreated Cecilia to sit up with her till some news coind be procured ; she sent also for her brother, and they all three, in tiembling expec- tation of what was to ensue, passed the whole night in watching. At six o’clock in the morning, Mr, Arnott besought his sister and L-tcilia to take some rest, promising to go out himself to every place where Mr. Harrel was known to res »it, and not to return without bringing some account of him. Mrs. Harrel, whose feelings were not very acute, finding the pei suasions of her brother were seconded by her own fatigue, consented to follow liis advice, and desired him to begin his search immediately. A few moments after he was gone, while Mrs. Harrel and Cecilia were upon the stairs, they were startled by a violent knocking at the door. Cecilia, prepared for some Calamity, hurried her friend back to the drawing-room, and then flyi g out of it again to enquire who entered, saw, to her equal surprise and relief, Mr. Harrel himself. She tan back with the welcome information, and he in- stantly followed her. Mrs. Harrel eagerly told him of her fright, and Cecilia expressed her pleasure at his return ; but the satisfaction of neither was of long duration. 350 CECILIA. He came Into the room with a look of fierceness the most terrifying, his hat on, and his arms folded. He made no answer to what they said, but pushed back the door with his foot, and flung himself upon a sofa. Cecilia would now have withdrawn ^ but Mrs. Barrel caught her hand to prevent her. They continued some minutes in this situation ; and then Mr. Harrcl, suddenly rising, called out, “ Have you any thing to pack up ?” “ Pack up?” repeated Mis. Harrel j “ Lord bless me, for what ?” “ I am going abroad,” he answered; “I shall go to- morrow.” “ Abroad !” cried she, bursting into tears ; “lam sure I hope not.” “ Hope nothing,” cried he, in a voice of rage; and then, with a dreadful oath, he ordered her to leave him and pack up. Mrs. Harrel, wholly unused to such treatment, was frightened into violent hysterics; of which, however, he took no notice, but swearing at her ioiafool who had been the cause of his ruin, he left the room Cecilia, tliough she instantly rang the bell, and hastened to her assistance, was so much shocked by this une.xpected brutality, that she scarcely knew how to act, or what to order. Mrs. Harrel, however, soon recovered, and Cecilia accompanied her to her own apartment, where she stayed, and endeavoured to soothe her till Mr. Arnott leturned. The terrible state in which Mr. Harrel had at last com^ home, was immediately communicated to him ; and his sister entreated him to use all his influence that the scheme forgoing abroad might be deferred at least, if not wholly given up. Fearfully he went on the embassy, but speedily, and with a look wholly dismayed, he returned. Mr. Harrel, he said, had told him, that he had contracted a larger debt of honour than he had any means to raise ; and as he could not appear till it was paid, he was obliged to quit the king- dom without delay. “Oh, brother !” cried Mrs. Harrel, “and can you suf- fer us to go ?” “ Alas ! my dear sister,” answered he, “ what can I do CECILIA. 351 to prevent It? and who, if I too am ruined, will in future help you? Mrs. Harel then wept bitterly; nor could the gentle Mr. Arnott forbear, while he tried to comfort her, mixing his own tears with those of his beloved sister; but Cecilia, whose reason was stronger, and whose justice was olfended, felt other sensations ; and leaving Mrs. Harrel to the care of her brother, whose tenderness she infinitely compassion- ated, and retreated into her own room ; not, however, to rest, the dreadful situation of the family made her foiget she wantt d it, but to deliberate upon what course she ought herself to pursue. She determined, without any hesitation, against accom- panying them in their flight, as the irreparable injury sbe was convinced she had already done her fortune, was more than sufficient to satisfy the most romantic ideas of friend- ship and humanity : but her own place of abode must now immediately be changed, and her choice rested only between Mr. Delvile and Mr. Briggs. Important as were the obstacles which opposed her resi- dence at Mr. Delvile’s, all that belonged to inclination and to happiness encouraged it : while, with respect to Mr, Briggs, though the objects were lighter, there was not a single allurement. Yet, whenever the suspicion recurred to her, that Miss Belfield was loved by young Delvile, she resolved at all events to avoid him : but when better hopes intervened, and represented that his enquiries were probably accidental, the wish of being finally acquainted with his sentiments, made nothing so desirable as an intercourse more frequent. Such still was her, irresolution, when she received a mes- sage from Mr. Arnott to entreat the honour of seeing her. She immediately went down stairs, and found him in the utmost distress. “ O, Miss Beverley, lie ciied, what can I do for my sister ? what can I possibly devise to re- lieve her affliction?" “Indeed I know not!” said Cecilia ; “ but the utter impracticability of preparing her for this blow, obviously as it has long been impending, makes it now fall so heavily; I wish much to assist her,— but a debt so unjustifiably con- tracted — ’’ 352 CECILIA. “O, madam,” interrupted he, “ imagine not T sent to you with so treacherous a view as to involve you in our misery; for too unworthily has your generosity alrc^'dy been abused. I only wish to consult with you what I can do with my sister.” Cecilia, after some little consideration, proposed, that Mis. Harrel should still be left in England, and under their joint care, “Alas!” cried he, “I have alieady made that proposal, but Mr. Harrel will not go without her, though his wholebe- hjviour is sototally altered, that I fear to oust her withhim.” “Who is there, then, that has more weight vvirh him?” said Cecilia ; “shall we send for Sir Robert Floyer to se- cond our request ?” To this Mr Ainott assented, forgetting, in his apprehen- sion of losing his sister, the pain he should suffer fiom the inteiference of his rival. The Baronet presently arrived, and Cecilia, not chusing to apply to him herseif, left him with Mr. Arnott, and waited for intelligence in the library. In about an hour after, Mrs, HaireTran into the room, her tears diied up, and out of breath with joy, and called out, “ My dearest friend, my fate is now all in your hands, and I am sure you will not refuse to make me happy.” “What is it I can do for you?” cried Cecilia, dieading some impracticable proposal ; “ Ask me not, I beseech you, what I cannot peiform !” “No, no,” answered she ; “ what I ask requires nothing but good nature. Sir Robert Floyer has been begging Mr. Harrel to leave me behind ; and he has promised to comply, upon condition you will hasten your man iage, and take me into your own house ” “My marriage?” cried the astonished Cecilia. Heie they were joined by Mr. Harrel himself, who rc- pe3ted the same offer. “You both amaze and shock me !” cried Cecilia ; “what is it yon mean, and why do you talk to me so wildly?” “Miss Beverley,” cried Mr. Hairel, “it is high time now to give up this reserve, and tiifle no longer with a gen- tleman so unexceptionable as Sir Robert Floyer. The whole town has long acknowledged him as your husband, and CECILIA, 353 you are every where regarded as his bride ; a little frank- ness, therefore, in accepting him, will not only bind him to you for ever, but do credit to the generosity of your character." At that moment Sir Robert himself burst into the room, and seizing one of her hands while both of them were up- lifted in mute amazement, he pressed it to his lips, poured forth a volley of such compliments as he had never before prevailed with hi nself to utter, and confidently entreated her to complete his long-intended happiness, without the cruelty of further delay. Cecilia, almost petrified by the excess of her surprise, at an attack so violent, so bold, and appatenily so sanguine, was for some lime scarce able to speak or to defend herself; but when Sir Hobeit, presuming on her silence, said she had made him the happiest of men, she indignantly drew back her hand, and, wi'h a look of dfspieasuie that requited little explanation, would have walked out of the room; when Mr Harrel, in a tone of bitterness and disappoint- ment, called out, “ Is this lady-like tyranny then never to end And Sir Robert, impatiently following her, said, “ And is my suspense to endure for ever? after so many months attendance — " “ This, indeed, is something too much," said Cecilia, turning back ; “You have been kept. Sir, in no suspense; the whole tenor of my conduct has unifoimiy declared the same disapprobation 1 at present avow, and which my let- ter, at least, must have put beyond all doubt." ‘ ‘ Harrel !" exclaimed Sir Robei t, “did not you tell me — " “ Pho, pho,” ciied HaiTci, “what signifies calling upon me? I nevei saw in Miss Beverley any disapproba- tion, beyond what is customary for young ladies of a senti- mental turn to shew ; and every body knows that where a gentleman is allowed to pay his devoirs for any length of time, no lady intends to use him very severely." “ And can you, Mr, Harrel," said Cecilia, “after such conversations as have passed between us, persevere in this wilful misapprehension ? But it is in vain to debate where all reasoning is disregarded, or to make any protestations, where even rejection is received as a favour. And then, with an air of disdain, she insisted upon pas- sing them, and went to her own room. VOL. I. 2Y 10 354 CKCILIA. Mrs. Harrel, however, still followed, and clinging roun^ her, still supplicated her pity and compliance. “What infatuation is this!” cried Cecilia ; “is it pos- sible that you, too, can suppose that I ever mean td accepij Sir Robeit “To be sure I do,” answered she ; for Mr, Harrel has told me a thousand times, that, however you played the prude, you would be his at last.” Cecilia, though doubly irritated against Mr. Harrel, was now appeased with his lady, whose mistake, however ill- founded, offered an excuse for her behaviour: but she assured her, in the strongest terms, that her repugnance to the Baronet was unalterable, yet told her she might claim from her every ^ood office that >vas not wholly unreason- able. These were words of slender comfort to Mrs. Hand, \vho well knew that her wishes and leaspn had but little affinity, and she soon, therefore, left the room. Cecilia then resolved to go instantly to Mr®- Delvilc, acquaint her with the necessity of her removal, and make her decision \yhither, according to the manner in vvhicb her intelligence should be received. She sent, therefore, to order a chair, and was already ii^ the hall, when she was stopt by the entrance of Mr. Monck- ton, who, addressing her with a look of haste and earnest-, ness, said, “ I will not ask you whither you are going so early, or upon xyhat errand, for .1 must beg a moment’s au- dience, be your business what it may. Cecilia then accompanied him to the deserted breakfast- room, which none but the servants had this morning enter- ed ; and there, grasping her hand, he said, “Miss Beverley, you must fly this house directly ! it is the region of disoider and licentiousness, and unfit to contain you. She assured him she was at that moment prepa.riug to quit it, but begged he would explairi himself. “ I have taken care,” he answered, “for some time past, to be well informed of all the proceedings of Mr. Harrel ; and the intelligence 1 procured this morning is of the most alarming nature. I find he spent the night before the last entirely at a gamirtg table, where, intoxicated by a run of good luck, he pssed the whole of the next day in CECILIA. 355 Holing with his profligate intimates ; and last night, return- ing again to his favorite amusement, he not only lost all he had gained, but much more than he could pay. Doubtnot. therefore, but you will be called upon to assist him : he still considers you as his resource in times of danger, and while he knows you are under his roof, he will always believe himself secure.” “Every thing indeed conspires,” said Cecilia, more shocked than surprised at this account, “ to make it neces- sary I should quit his house ; yet I do not think he has at present any further expectations from me, as he came into the r®om this morning, not merely without speaking to me, but behaved with a brutality to Mrs. Harrel that he must be certain would give me disgust. It shewed me, indeed, a new part of his character ; for ill as I have long thought of him, I did not suspect he could be guilty of such un- ihanly cruelty.” “The character of a gamester,” said Mr. Monckton, “depends solely upon his luck ; his disposition varies with every throw of the dice ; and he is airy, gay and good- humoured, or sour, morose, and savage, neither from nature nor from principle, but wholly by the caprice of chance.” Cecilia then related to him the scene in which she had just been engaged with Sir Robert Floyer. “This,” cried he, “ is a manauvre I have been some tinie e.vpeciing ! but Mr Harrel, though artful and selfish, is by no means deep. The plan he had formed would have succeeded with some women, and he therefore con- cluded it would with all. So many of your sex have been subdued by perseverence, and so many have been con- quered by boldness, that he supposed, when he united two such powerful besiegers in the person of a baronet, he sliould Vanquish all obstacles. By assuring you that the wo;ld thou ht the marriage already settled, he hoped to surprise you into believing there was no help for it and by the sudden- ness and vehemence of the attack, to highten and hurry you into compliance. His own wife, he knew, might have been managed thus with ease, and so, probably, might his sister, and his mother, and his cousin ; for , in love matters, or what are so called, women in general are readily duped. 2 Y 2 356 cegiLiA. He discerned not the superiority of your iinderstandihg ttJ tricks so shallow and impertinent, nor the firmness of yout mind in maintaining its own independence. No doufit blit he was amply to liave been rewaided for his assistance ; and probably had you this morning been propitious, the Baronet in return was to have cleared him fiom his present difficulty." “Even in my own mind," said Cecilia^ can no longer defend him ; for he could never have been so eager to promote the interest of Sir Robert, in the present terrible situation of his ow*n affairs, fiad he not been stimulated by some secret motives. His schemes and his artifices, how- ever, will now. be utterly lost upon me, since your warning and advice, aided by my own suffering experience of the inutility of all f can do for him, will effectually guard me from all his future attempts. “Rest no security upon yourself," said Mr. Menckton, “since you have no knowledge of the many tiicks and in- ventions by which you may be plundered. Perhaps he may beg permission to reside in your house in Suffolk, or desire an annuity for his wife, or chuse to receive your first rents when you come of age ; and whatever he may fix upon, his danger and his bowl will not fail to procure him. A heart so liberal as your’s can only be guarded by flight, You were going, you said, when 1 came — and whither?" “To — to St. James's-square,” answered she, with a deep blush. “ Indeed! — is young Delvile, then, going abroad F"" “Abroad, — no, — I believe not." “ Nay, I only imagined it from your chusing to reside in liis house.” “I do not chuse it,” cried Cecilia, witli quickness ; “but is not any thing preferable to dwelling Aviih Mr. Briggs ?” “ Certainly," said Mr. Monckton, coolly, “ nor should I have supposed he had any chance wiifi you, had I not hitherto observed that your convenience has always been sacrificed to your sense of propriety." Cecilia, touched by praise so full of censure, and earnest to vindicate her delicacy, after an internal struggle, which Mr. Monckton was too subtle to interrupt, protested, she GECILIA. 357 would go instantly to Mr. Briggs, and see if it were possi- ble to be settled in his house, before she made any attempt to fix herself elsewhere. “And when?” said Mr Monckton. “ I don't know,” answered she, with some hesitation, “perhaps this afternoon.” “ Why not this morning?” “ I can go out no where this morning ; I must stay with Mrs. Haml “You thought otherwise when I came; you were then content to leave her.” Gecilia's alacrity, however, for changing her abode, was now at aja end, and she wou.d fain have been left quietly to le-consider lier plan'., but Mi M mCieion urged so strongly the dangei ol net eiigthen d s ay in .he houseof so designing a ni.in as Mr. Hanei, liiat he pievaiied iipini her to quit it without de ay, and had himselt the satisfaction of handing her to her chaii . CHAPTER II. A MISER'S MANSION. MR. BRIGGS was at home, and Cecilia instaintly and briefly informed him that it was inconvenient for her to live any longer at Mr Hand's and that if she could be ac- commodated at his house, she should be glad to reside with him during the re‘it of her minosity. “ Shall, shall,” Cl ied he, extremely pleased, “ take you with all my heart. Wjirant master Harrd’s made a good penny of you. Not a bit the better for dresung so fine ; many a rogue in a gold late hat.” Cecilia begged to know what apartments he could spare for her “Take you up stairs,” he cried, “shew you a place fora queen.” He. then led her up stairs, and took her to a room entire- ly dark, and go close for want of air, that she could hardly breathe in iu She retreated to, the landing-place till he had opened the shutters, and then saw an apartment t.be most 358 CECILIA. forlorn shfe had ever beheld, containing no other fiirnittir€ than a ragged stuff bed, two worn out rush-bottomed chairs, an old wooden box and a bit of broken glaSs, which was fastened to the wall by two bfcnt nails ^ “ See here, nrty little chick," cried he, ‘‘ cVery thing rea- dy! and a box for youi gimcracks into the bargain." “ You do'nt mean this place for me, Sir !" tiled Cecilia, staringi” “ Do, do,” cried he ; “a deal nicer by and by. Only wants a little furbishing: soon put to rights. Never sweep a room out of use; only wears out brooms for nothing." “But, Sir, can I not have an apartment on the first floor ?" “ No, noj something else tb doi with if ; belongs to the club ; secrets in all things ! Make this do well enough. Come again next week; wear cjuite a new face. Nothing waning but a table ; pick you up one at a broker's." “But I am obliged, Sir, to leaVe Mr. Harrel’s house directly " “ \Vell, well, make shift without a table at first ; n» great matter if you an’t one at all, nothing particular to da with it. Want anothei .blanket, though. Know where to get one ; a very good broker hard by. Understand how to deal with him ! A close dog, but warm-” “ I have also two servants, Sir," said Ceciila. “ Won’t have em ! Sha'nt come ! Eat me out of house and home.” “Whatever they eat, Sir," answered she, “will be wholly at my expence, as will every thing else that belongs to them." “ Better get rid of them : hate servants; all a pack of rogues; think of nothing but stuffing and guttling." Then opening another door, “ See here, he cried, “ my own room just by ; snug as a church I” Cecilia following him into it, lost a great part of her surprise at the praise he had lavished upon that which he destined for herself, by perceiving that his own was yet more scantily furnished, having nothing in it but a misera- ble bed without any curtains, and a large chest, which, while it contained his clothes, suflSced both for table and chair. CECILIA. 359 “ \yhal are doing here ?" cried he angrily to a maid i^ho was making a bed; ’'cari’t you take more care ? beat out all the feathers; see! two on the giound, nothing but waste and extravagance 1 never mind how soon a man'$ ruined. Come to want, you slut, see that, come to want !” “1 cap never want more than 1 do here,” said the girl, “ so that’s one comfort.” Cecilia now began to repent she had made known the purport of her visit, for she found it would be utterly im- possible to accommodate either her rpipd or her person to a residence such as was here to be obtained: and she 6nly wished Mr, Moncktop had beep present, that he might himself be convinced of the impracticability of his scheme. Her whole business, therpfore, now, was to retract her offer, ^nd escape from the house, “ I see, Sir,” said she, when he turned from his servant, “that I cannot be received here without inconvenience, gind therefore 1 will make some new arrangement in my plan.” “ No, no,” cried he, “ like to have you, ’tis but fair, all jn our turn ; won’t be choused ; master Harrel’s had his share. Sorry could not g^t you that sweetheart! w^ouldnot bite ; sqon find out another ; never fret.” “ But there are so many things with which I cannot pos- sibly dispense,” said Cecilia, “ that I am certain my remov- ing hither would occasion you fat more trouble than you at present foresee.” “No, no; get all in order SQon ; go about myself ; know bow to bid ; understand trap ; always go shabby ; nrj mak- ing a bargain in a good coat. Look sharp at the goods ; say they won’t do ; come away ; send somebody else fo r 'em. Never go twice myself ; nothing got efieap if one s-eems to have a hankering.” “ But I am sure it is not possible,” said Cecilia, hurry- ing down stairs, “that my room, and one for each of my servants, should be ready in time “Yes, yes,” cried he, following her, “ t'eady in a trice. Make a little shift at first; double the blanket till we get another; lie with the maid a night or two ; never stand for a trifle.’' And. when she was seated in her chair, the wliole time 560 CECILIA. shaiing or escaping the ruin of this house is not wholly indiflfeient to you ?” 362 CECILIA, “ Certainly not,” answered Cecili? ; “as the brother of my earliest friend, I can never be insensible to your welfare.” “ Ah, madam !” cried he, “ as her brother ! O tha^ there were any other tie ! ” “ Think a little,” said Cecilia, preparing to quit the room, “of what I have mentioned ; and, for your sister’s sake, be firm now, if you would, be kind hereafter.” “ I will be any and every thing,” cried he, “that Miss Beverley will command.” Cecilia, fearful of any misrepresentation, then came back, and gravely said, “No, Sir, be ruled only by your own judgment : or, should my advice have any weight with you, remember it is given from the most disinterested mo^ lives, and with no other view than that of securing your power to be of service to your sister.” “ For that sister’s sake, then, have the goodness to hear ray situation, and honour me with further direc- tions” “You will make me fear to speak,” said Cecilia, “if you give so much consequence to my opinion. I haye seen, however, nothing in your conduct I have ever wished changed, except tpo little attention to your own interest and affairs.” “Ah !” cried he, “ with what rapture should I hear those words, could I but imagine “ Come, come, ” said Cecilia, smiling, “no digression ! You called me back to talk pf your sister ; if you change your subject, perhaps yop may lose your auditor.” “ I would not, madam, for the world, encroach upon your goodness ; the favour I have found has indeed always exceeded my expectations, as it always surpassed my de- sert : yet has it never blinded me to my own pnworthi- ness.' Do. not, then, fear to indulge me with your con- versation ; I shall draw from it no inference but of pity ; and though pity from Miss Beverley is the Sweetest balm to my heart, it shall never seduce me to the encouragement of higher hopes. Cecilia had long had reason to expect such a declaration, yet she heard it with pnaffected concern, and looking at him with the utmost gentleness, said, “Mr. Ainott, CECIIIA. 3G3 J^our regard docs ine honour, and, were it somewhat more rational, would give me pleasure ; take, then, from it what is more than I wish or merit, and while you preserv’^e the rest, be assured it will be faithfully returned.” “Your rejection is so mild,” cried he, “that I, who had no hope of acceptance, find relief in having at last told my sufferings- Could I but continue to see you every day, and to be blest with your conversation, I think I should be hap- py, and I am sure I should be grateful.” “ You are already,” answered she, shaking her head, and moving towards the door, “ infringing the conditions upon which our friendship is to be founded.” “ Do not go, madam,” he cried, “till I have done what you have just promised to permit, acquainted you with my situation, and been honoured with your advice. I must own to you, then, that 50001. which 1 had in the stocks, as well as a considerable sum in a banker's hands, I have parted with, as 1 now find for ever: but I have no heart for refusal, nor would my sister at this moment be thu.s distressed, but that I have nothing more to give withvxat I cut down my trees, or sell some farm, since ail I was worth except my landed property is already gone. What, there- fore, I can now do to save Mr. Harrel from this desperate expedition, I know not.” “ I am sorry,” said Cecilia, “ to speak with severity of one so nearly connected with you ; yet, suffer me to ask, why should he be saved from it at all ? and what is there he can at present do better ? Has not he long been threatened with every evil that is now arrived ? Have we not both warned him, and have not the clamours of his creditors assailed him ? yet what has been the consequence? He has not submitted to the smallest change in his way of life ; he has not denied himself a single indulgence, nor spared any expence, nor thought of any reformation. Luxury has followed luxury, and he has only grown fonder of extrava- gance, as extravagance has become more dangerous. Till the present storm, therefore, blows over, leave him to his fate ; and when a calm succeeds, I will, myself, for the skke of Priscilla, aid you to save what is posfibie of the wreck.” 2 z 2 364 CECILIA. “ All you say, madam, is as wise as it is good ; and novt^ I am acquainted with yout opinion. I will wholly new mo- del myself upon it, and grow as steady against all attack as hitherto 1 have been yielding.” Cecilia was then retiring ; but again detaining her, he said, “You spoke, madam, of a removal, and, indeed, it is high time you should quit this scene ; yet 1 hope you intend not to go till to-morrow, as Mr. Harrel has declared your leaving him sooner will be his destruction.”. “ Heaven forbid ! said Cecilia, “ for* I mean to be gone with all the speed in my power.” “Mr. Harrel,” answered he, “did not explain him- self! but I believe he apprehends your deserting his house at this critical lime, will raise a suspicion of his own desi'^n of going abioad, and make his creditors interfere to pre- vent him.” “To what a wretched state,” cried Cecilia, “ has h^ reduced himself! I will not, however, be the voluntary instrument of his disgrace ; and if you think my stay is so material to his security, I will stay here till to-morrow morning.” Mr. Arnott almost wept his thanks for this concession, and Cecilia, happy in making it to him instead of Mr. Harrel, then went to her own room, and wrote the follow- ing letter to Mrs. Delviie : TO THE HON. MRS. DELVILE, ST. J AM ES’s-SQU ARE. DEAR MADAM, Tirim an- square, June 12 . I AM willing to hope you have been rather surprised that 1 have not sooner availed myself of the permission with which you yesterday honoured me of spending this whole day with you ; but, unfortunately for myself, 1 am prevented waitirig upon you even for any part of it. Do nor, however, think me now ungrateful if I stay away, nor to-morrow impertinent, if 1 venture to enquire whe- ther that apartment, which you had onCe the goodness to aj^propriate to my use, may then again be spared for me. Tlie accidents which have prompted this strangC request will, T trust, be sufficient apology for the liberty I CECILIA. 365 take in making it, when I have the honour to see you, and acquaint you what they are. I am, with the utmost respect, Dear Madam, Your most obedient, liumble servant, Cl CILIA Beverley. She would not have been thus concise, had not the caution of Mr. Arnott made her fear, in ihe pieseni peril- ous situation of affairs, to trust the secret of Mr. Harrel to paper. The following answer was returned her from Mrs. Delviie ; TO MISS BEVFRLEY, PORTM AN-SQU ARE. The acciden s you meiition, are not, i hope, of a very serious nature, since ! shall hod difficuky insurmountable in trying to lament them, if they ate productive of a length- ened visit from Miss Beverley to her faithful humble servant, Augusta Delvile. Cecilia, charmed with this note, could now no longer for- bear looking firward to brighter prospects, flattering herself that once under the roof of Mrs. Delvile, she must necessa- rily be happy, let the engagements or behaviour of her son be what they might. CHAPTER IV- A GAMESTER't CONSCIENCE. FROM this soothing prospect, Cecilia was presently disturbed by Mrs. Harrei's maid, who came to entreat she would hasten to her lady, whom she feared was going into fits. Cecilia flew to her immediately, and found her in the most violent affliction. She used every kind effort in her 366 CECILIA. power to quiet and console her, but it waS not withbut the utmost difficulty she could sob out the cause of this fresh sorrow, which indeed was not trifling. Mr. Harrel, she said, had told her he could not possibly raise money even for his travelling expences, without risking a disco- very of his project, and being seized by his creditors : he had therefore charged her, through her brother or her friend t to procure for him 30001. as less would not suffice to maintain them while abroad, and he knew no method by which he could have any remittances without danger ; and, when she hesitated in her compliance, he furiously accused her of haying brought on all this distress by her negligence and want of management; and declared, that if she did not get the money, she would only be served as she rnerited, by starving in a foieigri goal, which he swore would be the fate of them both. The horror 'and indignation with which Cecilia heard this account were unspeakable. She saw evidently that she was again to be played upon by terror and distress, and the cautions and opinions of Mr. Monckton no longer appeared overstrained ; one year's income was already de- manded, the annuity and the country house might ne.xt be required ; she rejoiced, however, that thus wisely fore- warned, she was not liable to surprise ; and she determined, be their entreaties or representations what they might, lo be immoveably steady in her purpose of leaving them the next morning. Yet she could not but grieve at suffering the whole bur- then of this clamorous imposition to fall upon the soft- hearted Mr. Arnott, whose inability to resist solicitation made him so unequal to sustaining its weight : but when Mrs. Harrel was again able to go on with her account, she heard, to her infinite surprise, that all application to her brother had proved fruitless. “He will not hear me," continued Mrs. Harrel, “and he never was deaf tome be- fore ; so now I have lost my only and last resource : my brother himself gives me up, and there is no one else upon earth who will assist me!” “With pleasure, with readiness, with joy,” cried Cecilia, “ should you find assistance from me, were it to you alone it were given ; but to .sup'plyj fuel ^for the: very CECILIA. 367 gre that is consuming you— no, no, my whole heart is hardened against gaming and gaftiesters, and neither now or ever will 1 sulfer any consideration to soften me in their favour.” Mis. Harrel only answered by tears and lamentations; and Cecilia, whose justice shut not out compassion, having now declared her purposed firmness, again attempted ro soothe her, entreating her not to give way to such immo- derate grief, since better prospects might arise from the very gloom now before her, and a short time spent in solitude and oeconomy, might enable her to return to her native land with recovered happiness, “No, I shall never return,” cried she, vvecpin?, I shall die, I shall break my heart before I have been banished a month! Oh, Miss Beverley, how happy are you ! able to stay where you please, — rich, — rolling in wealth which you flo not want — of which had we but fl/ie year's income only, all this misery would be ever, and we might stay in our dear, dear country !” Cecilia, struckj by a hint that so nearly bordered upon reproach, and oflFended by seeing the impossibility of ever doing enough, while any thing remained to be done, for- bore, not without difficulty, enquiring what next was expected from her, and whether any part of her fortune might be guarded, without giving room for some censure? but the deep affliction of Mrs. Barrel soon removed her resentment, and scarcely thinking her, while in a state of such wretchedness, answerable for what she said, after a little recollection, she mildly replied, “ As affluence is all comparative, you may ^t present think I have more than my share : but the time is only this moment past, when your own situation seemed as subject to the envy of others as mine may be now My future destiny is yet undeter-, mined, and the occasion 1 may have for my fortune is unknown to myself; but whether I possess it in peace or in turbulence, whether it proves to me a blessing or an in- jury, so long as I can call it my own, I shall always remember with alacrity the claim upon that and upon me which early frieridship has so justly given Mrs. Harrel. Yet permit nj.e, at the same time, to add, that I do. not hold myself so entirely independent as you may . probably suppose 368 CECILIA. me. I have tiot, it is true, any relations to cal! me \fo account, but respect for Aeir memory supplies the place of their authority ; and I cannot, in the ciistribution of the fortune which has devolved to me, foibear sometimes con- sidering how they would have wished it should be spent, and always remembering that what was acquired by indus- try and labour, should never be dissipated in idleness and vanity. Forgive me for thus speaking to the point; you will not find me less friendly to yourself, for this frankness with respect to yonr situation.” Tears were again the only answer of Mrs. Harrel ; yet Cecilia, who pitied the weakness of her mind, stayed by her with the most patient kindness till the servants announ- ced dinner She then declared she would not go down stairs : but Cecilia so strongly represented the danger of awakening suspicion in the servants, that she at last pre- vailed with her to make her appearance. Mr. Harrel was already in the parlour, and enquiring for Mr. Arnott, but was told by the servants he had sent word he had another engagement. Sir Robert Fioyer also kept away, and, for the first time since her arrival in town, Cecilia dined with no other company than the master and mistress of the house. Mrs. Harrel coaid eat nothing: Cecilia, merely to avoid creating surprise in the servants, forbore following her example ; but Mr. Harrel eat as much as usual, talked all dinner time, was extremely civil to Cecilia, and- dis- covered not, by his manners, the least alteration in his affairs. When the servants were gone, he desired his wife to step for a moment with hirn into the library. They soon re- turned, and then Mr. Harrel, after w^a Iking in a disordered manner about the room, rang the bell, and oidered his hat and cane, and, as he took them, said, “ If this fails ” and, stopping short, without speaking to his wife, or even bow- ing to Cecilia, he hastily went out of the house. Mrs. Harrel told Cecilia that he had merely called her to know the event of her two petitions, and had heard fier double failure in total silence. Whither he was now gone it was not easy to conjecture, nor what was the new resource which he still seemed to think worth trying ; CECILIA. 36 ^ but the manner of his quitting the house, and the threat implied by — if this fails — contributed not to lessen the grief of Mrs. Harrel, and gave t© Cecilia herself the utmost alarm. They continued together till tea-time, the servants hav- ing been ordered to admit no company. Mr. Harrel him- self then returned, and returned, to the amazement of Ceci- lia, accompanied by Mr, Marriot. He presented that young man to both the ladies, as a gentleman whose acquaintance and friendship, he was very desirous to cultivate. Mrs. Harrel, too much absorbed in her own affairs to care about any other, saw his entrance with a momentary surprise, and then thought of it no more ; but it was not so with Cecilia, whose better under- standing led her to deeper reflection. Even the visits of Mr, Marriot but a few weeks since Mr. Harrel had prohibited, yet he now introduced him into his house with particular distinction ; he came back too himself in admirable spirits, ^livened in his counte- nance, and restored to his good jHltfnour. A change so ex- traordinary both in conduct atfBi^position, convinced her that some change no less ex^l^ptdinary of circumstance must previously have happenei!^- what that might be, it was not possible for her to divine, but the lessons she had received from Mr. Monckton^:ted her to suspicions of the darkest kind. Every pait of his behaviour;.Served still further to con- firm them ; he was civil even to excess to Mr. Marriot : he gave orders aloud not to be at home to Sir Robert Floyer ; he made his court to Cecilia with unusual assi- duity, and he took every method in his power to procure opportunity to her admirer of addr essing and approaching her. The young man who seemed enamoured even to madness ^ could scarce refrain not merely from prostration to the object of his passion, but to Mr. Harrel hia self, for per- mitting him to see her. Cecilia, who not without some concern perceived a fondness so fruitless, and who knew not by what arts, or with what views, Mr. Harrel might think proper to encourage it, determined to take all the means that were in her power towards giving it immediate VOL. I. 3 A ^70 GECILIA. control. She behaved, therefore, with the utmost reserV'^, and the moment tea was over, though earnestly entreated to remain with them, she retired to her own room, without making any other apology than coldly saying she could not stay.” In about an hour Mrs. Harrel ran up stairs to her. “Oh, Miss Beverley.” she cried, “a little respite is now granted me! Mr. Harrel says he shall stay another day; he says, too, orie single thousand pounds would now make hini a new man. Cecilia returned no answer ; she conjectured some new deceit was in agitation to raise money, and she feared Mr, Marriot was the next dupe to be played upon. Mrs. Harrel, therefore, with a look of the utmost dis- appointment, left her, saying she would send for her brother, and once more try if he had yet any remaining re- gard for her, Cecilia rested quiet till eleven o’clock, when she was summoned to supper : she found Mr. Maniot still the only guest, and that Mr. Arnott made not his appearance. She now resolved to publish her resolution of going the next morning to St. Ja mes s-square. As soon, therefore, as the servants withdrew, she enquired of Mr. Harrel if he had any commands with Mr. or Mrs. Delvile, as she should see them the ne.xt morning, and purposed to spend some time with them. Mr. Harrel, with a look of much alarm, asked if she meant the whole day. Many days, she answered, and probably some months. Mrs. Harrel exclaimed her surprise aloud, and Mr. Harrel looked aghast ; while his new young friend cast upon him a glance of reproach and resentment, which fully convinced Cecilia he imagined he had procured himself a title to an easiness of intercourse and frequency of meeting, which this intelligence destroyed. Cecilia thinking, after all that had passed, no other cere- mony on her part was necessary, but that of simply speak- ing her intention, then arose and returned .to her own room. She acquainted her maid that she was going to make a visit to Mrs. Delvile, and gave her directions about pack- CECILIA. 371 ing up her clothes, and sending for a man in the morning to take care of her books. This employment was soon interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Harrel, who, desiring to speak with her alone, when the maid was gone, said, “ O Miss Beverley, can you indeed be so barbarous as to leave me ?” “I entreat you, Mrs. Harrel," answered Cecilia, “to save both y< urself and me any further discussions. I have delayed this removal very long, and I can now delay it no longer ’’ Mrs, Harrel then flung herself upon a chair in the bitter- est sorrow, declaring she was utterly undone : that Mr. Harrel had decia!ed he could not stay even an hour in En- gland if she was not in his house ; that he had already had a violent quarrel witli Mr. Marriot upon the subject : and that her brother, though she had sent him the most earnest entreaties, would not come near her. Cecilia, tired of vain attempts to offer comfort, now urg- ed the warmest expostulations against her ojjposition, strong- ly representing the real necessity of her goirrg abroad, and the unpardonable weakness of wishing to continue such a life as she now led, adding debt to debt, and hoarding dis- tress upon distress. Mrs. Harrel then, though rather from compulsion than conviction, declared she vvould agree to go, if she had not a dread of ill usage ; but Mr. Harrel, she said, iiad behaved toiler with the utmost b.utality, calling her the cause of his ruin, and threatening that if she procured not tliis thou- sand pounds before the ensuing evening, she should be treated as she deserved for her extiavagance and folly. “ Does he think, iheu,” >aid Ceciiia, with the utmost in- dignation, “that I am to be frightened, throCrgli your fear, into what compliances he pieasts.'^” “O no," cried Mrs. Harrel, “ no ; his expectations are all from my brother. He suiely thought that when I sup- plicated and pleaded to him, he would do what I wished, for so he always did formerly, and so once again I am sure he will do now, could 1 but make him come to me, and tell him how I amused, and tell him that if Mr. Harrel takes me abroad in this humour, I verily think in his rage he will half murder me.” 3 a2 372 CECILIA. Cecilia, who well knew she was herself the real cause of Mr. Arnott’s resistance, now felt her resolution waver, in* ternally reproaching herself with the sufferings of his sister ; alarmed, however, for her own constancy, she earnestly besought Mrs. Harrel to go and compose herself for the night, and promised to deliberate what could be done for her before mornihg, Mrs. Harrel complied ; but scarce was her own rest more broken than that of Cecilia, who, thoughjextremely fatigued with a whole night's watching, was so perturbed in her mind she could not close her eyes. Mrs. Harrel was her earliest, and had once been her dearest friend"; she had deprived her by her own advice of her customary refuge in her brother; to refuse, therefore, assistance, tQ her seemed cruelty, though to deny it to Mr. Harrel was justice : she endeavoured, therefore, to make a compromise between her judgment and compassion j by resolving, that though she would grant nothing further to Mr. Harrel while he remained in London, she would contribute from time to time both to his-necessitiesand comfort, when once he was established elsewhere upon some plan of prudence and ccconomy. CHAPTER V. A PERSECUTION, THE next morning, by five o'clock, Mrs. Harrel came into Cecilia's room to know the result of her deliberation ; and Cecilia, with that graceful readiness which accompa- nied all her kind offices, instantly assured the thousand pounds should be her own, if she would consent to seek some quiet retreat, and receive it in small sums, of fifty or one hundred pounds at a time, which should be caiefully transmitted, and which, by being delivered to herself, might secure better treatment from Mr. Harrel, and be a motive to revive his care and affection. She flew, much delighted, with this proposal to her husband; but presently, and with a‘ dejected look, return- ing, said Mr. Harrel protested he coul4 not possibly set ou{ CECILIA. 373 without first receiving the money. “ I shall go myself, therefore,'’ said she, “to my brother after breakfast, for he will not, I s^e, unkind as he is grown, come to me ; and if I do not succeed with him, I believe I shall never come back.” To this Cecilia, offended and disappointed, answered, “ I am sorry for Mr. Arnott, but for myself I have done.” Mrs. Harrel then left her, and she arose to make imme- diate preparation for her removal to St. James's-square, whither, with all the speed in her power, she sent her books, her trunks, and all that belonged to her. When she was summoned down stairs, she found, for the first time, Mr. Harrel breakfasting at the same table with his wife : they seemed mutually out of humour and comfortless; nothing hardly was spoken, and little was ^wallowed ; Mr. Harrel, however, was civil, but his wife was totally silent, and Cecilia, the whole time, was plan- ning how to take her leave. When the tea-things were removed, Mr. Harrel said. You have not, I hope, Miss Beverley, quite determined upon this strange scheme?” “Indeed I have, sir,” she answered, “and already I have sent my clothes.” At this information he seemed thunderstruck ; but, after somewhat recovering, said with much bitterness, “Well, madam, at least may I request you will stay here till the evening?” “ No, sir,” answered she coolly, “ I am going instantly.” “ And will you not,” said he, with yet greater asperity, “ amuse yourself first with seeing bailiffs take possession of my house, and your friend Priscilla follow me to jail?” “ Good God, Mr. Harrel!” exclaimed Cecilia, with uplifted hands, “is this a question, is this behaviour I have meiited ?” “Oh no,” cried he, with quickness, “ sh®uld I once think that way ” then, rising and striking his forehead, he walked about the room. Mrs. Harrel arose too, and weeping violently went away. “ Will you at least,” said Cecilia, when she was gone, “ till your affairs are settled, leave Priscilla with me? 374 CECILIA. When I go into my own house, she shall accotnpany me, and mean time, Mr. Arnott's, I am sure, will gladly be open to her.” “No, no,” answered he, “she deserves no such indul- gence ; she has not any reason to complain ; she has been as negligent, as profuse, as expensive as myself; she has practised neither ceconomy nor sell-denial, she has, neither thought of me nor my affairs, nor is she now afflicted at any thing but the loss of that affluence she has done her best tow’ards diminishing. “ All recrimination,” said Cecilia, “ w^ere vain, or what what might not Mrs. Harrel urge in return ? But let us not enlarge upon so ungrateful a subject, the wisest and the happiest scheme now were mutually to console each other.” “ Consolation and kiitdness,” ciied he, wdth abruptness, “are out of the question, 1 have ordered a post-chaise to be here at night, and if till then you will stay, I will promise to release you without further petition : if not, eternal de- struction be my poition, if 1 live to see the scene which your removal will occasion !’’ “My removal?” cried Cecilia, shuddering, “good Heaven, and how can my removal be of such dreadful consequence ?” “Ask. me not,” cried he, fiercely, “ questions or rea- sons now ; the crisis is at hand, and you will soon, happen what may, know all ; mean time, what I have said is a fact, and immutable: and you must hasten my end, or give me a chance for avoiding it, as you think ht. I scarce care at this instant which way you decide ; remember, however, all I ask of you is to defer your departure, what else 1 have to hope is from Mr. Arnott.” He then left the room. Cecilia now was again a coward. In vain she called to her support the advice, the prophecies, the cautions of Mr. Monckton ; in vain she recollected the impositions she had already seen practised, for neither the warnings of her coun- sellor, not the lessons of her own experience, were proofs against the terrors which threats so desperate inspired; and though more than once she determined to fly at all events from a tyranny he had so little ligtit to usurp, the mere re- membrance of the words— r/ you May not till night I will CECILIA. 375 ^ot live — robbed her of all courage ; and however long she had prepared herself for this very attack, when the moment arrived, its power over her mind was too strong for resistance. While this conflict between fear and resolution was still undecided, her set vant brought her the following letter fiotn Mr. Arnott : — TO MISS BEVERLEY, PORTM AN-SQU ARE . June \ StJi, 1779. MADAM, Determined to obey those commands v/hich you h id the goodness to honour rne with, 1 have absented myself from town till Mr. Hanel is settled ; fm hough lamas sensible of your wisdom as of your beauty I find myseif too weak to bear the distress of rny unhappy sister, ana theieiorc I run from the sight ; nor shall any letter or mosscige follow me, unless it comes from Miss Beverley oerself, lest she should in future lefusc the only fwout I dare ^ remme to solicit, that of sometimes deigning lu honour u iih her diiections, The most hiniiblc and devoted of her servants, J. Arnott, In the midst of her apprehensions for herself and her own interest, Cecilia could not forbear lejoicing that Mr. Arnott, at least, had escaped the present storm ; yet she was certain it would fall the more heavily up n herself, and dreaded the sight of Mrs. Harrel after the shock which this flight would occasion. Her expectations were but too quickly fulfilled ; Mrs. Harrel, in a short time after, rushed wildly into the room, calling out, “My brother is gone ! he has left me for ever ! Oh save me, Miss Beverly, save me from abuse and in- sult!” And she wept with so much violence, she coa d utter nothing more. Cecilia, quite tortured by this persecution, faintly asked, what she could do for her. “Send,” cried she, “ to my brother, and beseech him not to abandon me! send to him and conjure him to ad- vance this thousand pounds!— life chaise is already oideied, 376 CECILIA. — Mr. Harrel is fixed upon going, — yet he says without that money we must both starve in a strange land.— O send to my cruel brother! he has kft word that nothing must follow him that does not come from you." “For the world, then,” cried Cecilia, “ would I not baffle his discretion ; indeed you must submit to your fate,, indeed, Mrs. Harrel, you must endeavour to bear it better.” Mrs. Harrel, shedding a flood of tears, declared she would try to follow her advice, but again besought her in the ut- most agony to send after her brother, protesting she did not think even her life would be safe in making so long a jour- ney with Mr. Harrel in his present state of mind : his cha- racter, she said, was totally changed, his gaiety, good hu- mour, and sprightliness, were turned into roughness and moroseness ; and, since his great losses at play, he was grown so fierce and furious, that to oppose him even in a trifle, rendered him quite outrageous in passion.” Cecilia, though truly concerned, and almost melted, yet refused to interfere with Mr. Arnott, and even thought it but justice to acknowledge she had advised his retreat. “ And can you have been so cruel,” cried Mrs. Harrel, with still encreasing violence of sorrow, to rob me of rny only friend, to deprive me of my brother’s affection, at the very time I am forced out of the kingdom, with a husband who is'ready to murder me, and who says he hates the sight of me, and all because I cannot get him this fatal, fatal money! — O Miss Beverley, how could I have thouglit to have had such an office from you ?” Cecilia was beginning a justification, when a message came from Mr. Harrel, desiring to see his wife immediately. Mrs. Harrel, in great terror, cast herself at Cecilia’s feet, and clinging to her knees," called out, “I dare not go to him ! I dare not go, to him! he wants to know my success, and when, ] e hears my brother is run away, 1 am sure he will kill me I — Oh Miss Beverley, how could you send him away? how could you be so inhuman as to leave me to the rage of Mr. Harrel ?” Cecilia, distressed and trembling herself, conjured her to rise and be consoled ; but ..Mrs, Harrel, weak and fright- ened, could only weep and supplicate: “ I don’t ask you,” she cried, “to give the money yourself, but only to send for CECILIA. 377 rny brother, that he may protect me and ,beg Mr. Harrel not to treat me so cruelly — consider but what a, long, long journey I am going to make ! consider how often you used tjo say you would love me for ever ! consider you have lobbed me of the tenderest brother in the world ! — Oh Miss Beverley, send for him back, or be a sister to me yourself and let not your poor Piiscilla leave her native land with- out help ot pity !’ Cecilia, wholly overcome, now knelt too, and embracing her with teais, said, “ Oh Priscilla plead and reproach no more ! what you wish shall be yours, — I will send for your brother, — I will do what you {deasc ! “ Now you are my fijend indeed !’* cried Mrs. Harrel, “let me but see my brother, and his heart will yield to my disttess, and he will soften Mr. Harrel by giving his unhappy sister this parting bounty.’’ Cecilia then took a pen in her hand to write to Mr. Arnott ; but stiuck almost in the same moment with a notion of treachery, in calling him from a retreat which her own counsel had made him seek, professedly to expose him to a supplication which from his present situation might lead him to ruin, she hastily flung it from her, and exclaimed, “ No, excellent Mr» Arnott, I will not so un- worthily betray you !” “And can you, Miss Beverley, can you at last,” cried Mis. Harrel, “ be so barbarous as to retract ?” “ No, my poor Priscilla,” answered Cecilia, “ I cannot send for Mr. Arnott, — from me you must have the money, and may it answer the purpose for which it is given, and restore to you the tenderness of your husband, and the peace of your own heart ! ’’ Priscilla, scarce waiting to thank her, flew with this in- telligence to Mr. Harrel ; who with the same impetuosity, scarce waiting to say he was glad of it, ran himself to biiiig the Jew from whom the money was to be procured. Every thing was soon settled, Cecilia had no time for retracting, and repentance they had not the delicacy to regard ; again, therefore, she signed her name for paying the principal and interest of another 10001. within ten days after she was of age; and having taken the money, she accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Harrel into another room. Presenting it then 3 B 10 VOL. I. CBCILIA. with an affecting solemnity to Mrs. Harrel, “Accept,, Priscilla,”- she cried, “ tbis irrefiagable niaiUcf the since-^ rity of my friendship; but suffer me at the same lime ic^ tell you, it is the last to so consideiable an amount I ever mean to offer ; receive it, therefore, with Jk.indncss, byt use it with discretion.” She then embraced her, and eager now to avoid acknow- ledgment, as before she had been to escape impoi ittniiies^ she left them logether The sooihing recompense of succouring benevolence, followed not this gift, nor made amends for lids io-s ; per-f plcxiiy and uneasiness regret and resentment, accompanied the dona ion, and rested upon her mind ; she feand sfe had done wrong ; she was certain Mr. Monckton would blame her ; he knew not the persecution she suffered, nor would he make any al owapee for the threats which alarmed, or the entreaties which melted her. Far other had been Jier feelings at the generosity she ex- erted for tjie Hills; no doubts then lounented her, and no repentance embittered her beneficence. Their worth was without suspicion, and their misfortunes were not of their own seeking ; the post in whic h they had been stationed they had never dpsei ted, and the poverty into which they had sunk was accidental and unavoidable. But here, every evil had been wantonly incurred by va- nity and licemiousnes.s, and shame’essly followed by injus*^ tice and fraud : the distuibance of hti mind only increased by reflection, for when the liglits of the creditors, with their injuiits, occured to her, she enquired of herself by what title or equity, she had so liberally assisted Mr Harref in eluding their claims, and flying the punishment which the law w. u d inflict. Startled by this consideration, she most severely re- proached herself for a compliance of which she had so lightly v\eighed the consequences, and thought, with the ut-* most dismay, that while she had flattered herself she was DiCM-ly indulging the dictates of humanity, she might, perhaps, be accused by the world, as an abettor of guile and injustice. “ And yet,” she continued, “whom can I essentially have injuied ,hut myself? would his creditors have been CECiUA. 379 benefited by my refusal? had I braved the execution of his dreadful threat, and quitted his house before I was wrought upon to assist him, would his suicide have lessened their looses, or secured their demands ? even if lie had no intention but to intimidate me, who will be wronged by my enabling him to go abroad, or who would be better paid were he seized and confined? All that remains of his shattered for- tune may still be claimed, though I have saved him from a lingering imprisonment, desperate for himself and his wife, and useless for those he has plundered ” And thus, now soothed by the purity of her intentions, and now uneasy from the rectitude of her principles, she alternately rejoiced and repined at what she had done. At dinner, Mr. Harrel was all civility and good humour. He warmly thanked Cecilia for the kindness she had shewn him, and gaily added, “ You should be absolved fioiii all the mischief you may do fora twelvemonth to come, in re- ward for the preservation from mischief which you have this day effected.” “The preservation,” said Cecilia, “ will, I hope be for many days But, tell me, sir, exactly, at what lime I may acquaint Mrs. Delvile I shall wait upon her ?” “Peihaps,” he answered, “ by eight o’clook ; perhaps by nine ; you will not mind half an hour?” “ Certainly not,” she answered, u ivvilllng, by disputing about a trifle, to diminish his satisfaction in her assistance: She wrote, therefore, another note to Mrs D Ivile, desiring she would not expect her till near ten oMock, and promis- ing to account and apologise foi these seeming Capriccs when she had the honour of seeing her. The rest of the afternoon she spent wholly in exhorting Mrs. Harrel to shew more fortitude, and conjuring her to study nothing while abroad but ceconomy. prudence, and housewifery; a lesson how hard for the thoughtless and negligent Priscilla ! she heard the advice with repugnance, and only ans /vered it with helpless complaints, that she knew not how to spend Itss money than she had always done. After tea, Mr. Harrel, still in high spirits, went out, entreating Cecilia to stay with Priscilla till hIS return, which he promised should be early. 2 b2 380 CECILIA. Nine o’clock, however, came, and he did not appear } Cecilia then grew anxious to keep her appointtnent with Mrs. Delvile"" ; but ten o’clock also came, and still Mr. Har- rel was absent. She then determined to wait no longer, and rang the bell for her servant and chair ; but when Mrs Haircl desired to be informed the moment that Mr. Harrel returned, tlie man said he had been come home more than half an hour. Much surprised, she enquired where he was? “In his own room, madam, and gave orders not to be disturbed,” “Cecilia, who was not much pleased at this account, was easily persuaded to stay a few minutes longer ; and, fear- ing some new evjl, she was going to send him a message, by way ®f knowing how he was employed, when he came himself into the room. “ Well, ladies,*^' he cried^ in a hurrying manner, “ whcT is for Vauxhall ?" “Vauxhall!” repeated Mrs. Harrel, while Cecilia, star- ing, perceived in his face a look of perturbation that extreme- ly alarmed her. “ Come, Gome,” he cried, we have no time to lose'. A, hackney coach will serve us; we won't wait for our own.” “Have you then given up going abroad?” said Mrs. Harrel . “No, no ; where can we go from half so well? Let ui live while we live! I have ordered a chaise to be in waiting there. Come, let's be gone,” “ First, "said Cecilia, “ let me wish you both good night.” “ Will not you go with me cried Mrs. Harrel : “how can I go to Vauxhall alone ?” “You are not alone,” answered she; “but if I go, how am I to return ? “She shall return with you,” cried Mr. Harrel, “if you desiie it ; you shall return together.” Mrs. Harrel, starting up in rapture, called out, “Oh, Mr. Harrel, will you indeed leave me in England ?” “Yes,” answered he, reproachfully, “if you will make a better friend than you have made a wife, and if Miss Be- verley, is content to take charge of you.” CECILIA. 3S1 “What can all this mean? exclaimed Cecilia; “Is it possible you can be serious? Are you really going yourself, and will you suffer Mrs. Harrel to remain?” “ I am,” he answered, “ and I will.” Then ringing the bell, he ordered a hackney coach. Mrs. Harrel was scarce able to breathe for cxtasy, nor Cecilia, for amazement; while Mr. Harrel, attending to neither of them, walked for some time silently about the room. “Bui how,” cried Cecilia at last, “can I possibly go? Mrs. Delvile must already be astonished at ray delay ; and if I disappoint her again, she will hardly receive me.” “ Omake not any difficulties,” cried Mrs. Harrel, in art agony ; “if Mr. Harrel will let me stay, sure you will not be so cruel as to oppose him ?” “ But why,” said Cecilia , “ should either of us go to Vauxhail? surely that is no place for a parting so melahcholy.” A servant then came in and said the hackney coach was at the door. Mr. Harrel, starting at the sound, called out, “Come, what do we wait for ? If we go not immediaiely, we may be prevented.” Cecilia then again wished them good night, protesting ^he could fail Mrs. Delviie no longer. Mrs. Harrel, half wild at this refusal, conjured her in the most frantic manner to give way, exclaiming, “Oh cmel ! cruel ! to deny me this last request ! I wil kneel to you day and night,” sinking upon the ground before her, “And I will serve you as the humblest of your slaves, if you will but be kind in this last instance, and save me from banishment and misery!” Oh rise, Mrs Harrel,” cried Cecilia, ashamed of her prostration, and shocked by her vehemence, “ rise, and let me rest! — it is painful to me to refuse, but to comply foe ever, in defiance to my judgment— Oh Mrs. Harrel, I know no longer what is kind nor what is cruel, nor have I known for some time past right from wrong, nor good from evil !” “ Come,” cried Mr. Harrel impetuously, “I wait not another minute !” “ Leave her then with me!” said Cecilia, “I will per- form my promise*, Mr. Arnott, will, I am sure, hold his CECrilA. td be Sticrcc! ; s!ie shall now s'O with him, she shall hef^f* after (omc to liie, — leave her but behindj and depend ujjort our care.” “ No, no,” cried he, with quickness, “I must take care df her myself. I shall not carry her abroad with me ; but the only legacy t can leave her, is a warning which I hdpc she will remember for eVer. You, however, need not god' “What,” cried Mrs. Harrel, ‘leave me at Vauxhall, arid yet leave rne alone?” “ What of that ?” ciied he, • hh fierceness ; “do you not desire to be left? Have you any legard for me, or for any thing upon earth but yourseif? Cease these Vain da- niours, and corhe, T insist Ujjon it, this moment.” And then, with a violent oath, he declared he would be detained^ no longer,, and approached in gieat lage to seize her. Mrs. Harrel sh ieked aloud ; and the terrified Ce- cilia exclaimed, “ if, indeed, you are to part to night, part not thus dreadfully! — rise, Mis. Harrel, and c. mply! — b’e feconciled— be kind to her Mr. Harrel! arxd I will go with her itiy's6if — we will all go together.” “And why/’ cried Mi Hand, more gently yet with the utmost emotWn, “ why sliou Id go ! want no warning' — you rued no terror! — better far had you fly. us \ and my wife, when I am set out may find you,” M rs. Hand, ho Acver, suffe red her not to recede ; and Cecilia* though half distracted by the scenes of honor’ and perplexity in which she was pei peiually engaged ofHeted her servant to acquaint Mis. Delviie she was again compel- led to defer waititig upon her. Mr Harrel then huriied them both into the coach,' which he directed tO Vau.xhall. “Pray write to me when ou are landed,” sdd Mrs; Harrel, who now released fiom her peisonal appiehensions, began to feel some lot her husband. He made not any answer. She then asked to what part ofErance he meant to go ; but still he did not reply, and when she urgefd him by a thiid question, he told her in a rage to torment him no more. id)urijig'the rest of the lide, not another word was said. Mt-S'. Harrel wept ; her husband guarded a gloorriy silence; CECILIA. 383 snd Cecilia most unpleasantly passed her lime between anxious suspicions of some new scheme, and a tcrrificjd wonder in what all these transactions would terminate. CHAPTER VI. A MAS OF BUSINESS, ^VHEN they entered Vauxhall, Mr. Hand endeavoured to dismiss hi> moroseness, and affecting his 'usual gaiety^ gtruggh d to recover his spirits ; but ihe effort was vain, he could neicicr talk nor look like hirnscll ; and though, from time to time, he resumed his air of wonted levity, he tould not support it, but drooped and hung his bead in evident despondency. He made them take scweral turns in the midst of tli€ .company, and walked so fast, that they could haidly keep pace wiih him, as if he hoped by exercise to restore his vi- vacity, but every attempt failed, he sunk and grew sadder, and muttering between his teeth, this is not to be borne!" he hastily called to a \vaiter to twffig him a bottle pf champagne. Of this he drank glass after glass, notwithstanding Ceci- lia, as Mis. Harrei had not courage to speak, entreated him to foibear. He seemed, however, not to hear her : but when he had drank what he thought necessary to revive him, he < onveyed them into an unfrequented part of the garden, and as soon as they were out of sight of all but a few straigiers, he suddenly stopt, and, in great agitation, said, “ My chaise will soon be ready, and j shall take of you a long farewell ! All my aff its are unpropitious to my speedy return ; the wine is now mountiiag into iny head, and perhaps 1 may not be able to say by and by. 1 fcai I have been cruel to you, Priscilla, and I begin to wiffi 1 had spared you in thi> pat ting scene ; yet det it not be barrished your remembrance, but tliink of it wbep you are tempted to such mad ic Uy as has ruined us-” Mrs. Harrei wept too much to make any answer ; and turning from her to Cecilia, “ Oh, madam," he criedj CECILIA. 334 **{oyou, indeed, I dare not speak ! I have used you mos? unworthily, but I pay for it all ! I ask you not to pity uy forgive me, I know it is impossible you should do either.” “No,” cried the softened Cecilia, “ it is not impossible, I do both at this moment, and I hope — ” “ Do not hope,” interrupted he ; “be not so angelic, fop I cannot bear it ! Benevolence like yours should have fallen into worthier hands. But come, let us leturn to the com- pany. My head grows giddy, but my heart is still heavy j J must make them more fit companions for each other,” He would then have hurried them back ; but Cecilia, endeavouring to stop him, said, “You do not mean, I hope, to call for more wine.” “Why not?” cried he, with affected spirit; “what shall we not be merry before we part ? Yes, we will all be merry; for if we are not, how shall wc part at all? — Oh not without a struggle ! — ” Then stopping, he paused a moment, and casting off the mask of levity, said, in accents the most solemn, “I commit this packet to giving a sealed pared to Cecilia ; “had I written it later, its con- tents had been kinder to my wife, for now the hour of se- paration approaches, ill-will and resentment subside. Poor Priscilla! — I am sorry — but you will succour her, lam sure you will. — Oh had J known you myself before this infatuation — bright pattern of all goodness I — But I wat devoted, — a ruined wretch before ever you entered my bouse ; unworthy to be saved, unworthy that virtues such as yours should dwell under the same roof with me ! — But come — coine now, or my resolution will waver, and I shall not go at last.” “ But what is this packet !” cried Cecilia, “ and why do you give it to me ?” “No matter, no matter, you will know by and by ; — the chaise waits, and I must gather courage to be gone»” He then pressed forward, answering neither to remon- strance nor entreaty from his affrighted companions. The moment they returned to the covered walk, they were met by Mr. Marriot. Mr. Hai rel, starting, endea- voured to pass him ; but when he approached, and said, •‘You have sent, sir, no answer to my letter !” he stopt, and* in a tone of forced politeness, said, “No, sir, but I CECILIA. 375 shall answer it to-morrow, and to-night I hope you will do me the honour of supping with me.” Mr. Marriot, looking openly at Cecilia as his inducement, though evidently regarding himself as an injured man, hesitated a moment, yet accepted the invitation. “To supper!” cried Mrs. Harrelj “what here?” “To supper!” repeated Cecilia, “and how are we to get home ?” “Think not of that these two hours,” answered he; “ come, let us look for a box.” Cecilia then grew quite urgent with him, to give up a scheme which must keep them so late; and Mrs. Harrel repeatedly exclaimed, “ indeed people will think it very odd to see us here without any paity !” But he heeded them not ; and perceiving at some distance Mr. Moirice, he called out to him to find them a box ; for the evening was very pleasant, and the gardens v^ere so much crowded that no accommodation was unseized “ Sir,” cried Morrice, with his usual readiness, “ I’ll get you one if I turn out ten old aldermen sucking custards.” Just after he was gone, a fat, sleek, vulgar-looking man, dressed in a bright purple coat, with a deep red waistcoat, and a wig bulging far from his head with small round curls, while his plump face and person announced plenty and good living, and an air of defiance spoke the fullness of his purse, strutted boldly up to Mr. Harrel, and, accosting him in a manner that showed some d ffidence of his recep- tion, but none of his right, said, “Sir, your humble servant and made a bow first to him, and then to the ladies. “Sir, your’s” replied Mr Harrel, scornfully, and with- out touching his hat he walked quick on His fat acquaintance, who seemed but little disposed to be offended with impunity, ' instantly replaced his hat on his head, and with a look that implied — I’ll Jit you for this ! — put his hands to his sides, and following him, said, “Sir, 1 must make bold to beg the favour of exchanging a few words with you.” “Ay, sir,” answered Mr. Harrel, “come to me to- morrow, and you shall exchange as many as you please. “ Nothinglike the time present, sir,” answered the man ; VOL. I. 3 C 11 I 376 CECILIA. “ as for to-morrow, I believe it intends to come no more j for I have heard of it many times these three years. I mean no reflection, sir, but let every man have his right. That’s what I say, and that’s my notion of things.” Mr. Harrel, with a violent execration, asked what he meant by dunning him at such a place as Vauxhall ? “ One place, sir,” he leplied, “is as good as another place; for so as what one does is good, ’tis no matter for where it may be. A man of business never wants a counter, if he can meet with a joint-stool. For my part. I’m all for a c-lear conscience, and no bills without receipts to them.” “And if you were all for broken bones,” cried Mr. Harrel, angrily, “I would oblige you with them without delay,” “ Sir,” cried the man, equally provoked, “ this is talking quite out of character ; for as to broken bones, there’s ne'er a person in all England, gentle, nor simple, can say he’s aright to break mine, for I’m not a person of that sort, but a man of as good property as another man ; and there’s ne’er a customer I have in the world, that’s more his own man than myself.” “Lord bless me, Mr. Hobson,” cried Mrs. Harrel, “don't follow us in this manner ! If we meet any of our acquaintance, they’ll think us half crazy.” “Ma’am,” answered Mr. Hobson, again taking off his hnt, “ If I’m treated with proper respect, no man will be- have more generous than myself; but if I’m affronted, all I can say is, it may go harder with'some folks than they think for.” Here a little mean looking man, very thin, and almost bent double with perpetual cringing, came up to Mr. Hob- son, and pulling him by the sleeve, whispered, yet loud enough to be heard, “It is surpriseable to me, Mr. Hobson, you can behave so out of the way ! for my part, perhaps I’ve as much my due as another person, but I ,;dares to say I shall have it when it’s convenient, and I’d scorn for to mis- lest a gentleman when he is taking his pleasure.” “ Lord bless me,” cried Mrs. Harrel, “what shall we do now ? here’s all Mr. Harrel's creditors coming upon us “Do? ’ Cried Mr. Harrel, re-assuming an air of gaiety, CECILIA. 377 “ why give them all a supper to be sure. Come, gentle- men, will you favour me with your company to supper?” “ Sir,” answered Mr. Hobson, somewhat softened by this unexpected invitation, “I’ve supped this hour and more, and had my glass too, for I’m as willing to spend 'my money as another man ; only what I say is this, I don't choose to be cheated, for that’s losing one's substance, and getting no credit ; however, as to drinking another glass, or such a matter as that, I'll do it with all the pleasure in life.” “ And as to me,” said the other man, whose name was Simkins, and whose head almost touched the ground, by thejprofoundness of his reverence, “ I can't upon no account think of taking the liberty; but if I may just stand with- out, I’ll make bold to go so far as just for to drink my hum- ble duty to the ladies in a cup of cyder.” Are you mad, Mr. Harrel, are you mad!” cried his wife, “ to think of asking such people as these to supper ? What will every body say ? Suppose any of our acquaint- ance should see us? I am sure 1 shall die with shame.” “Mad!” repeated he ; “no, not mad, but merry. O ho, Mr. Morrice, why have you been so long? what have you done for us ?” “ Why, sir,” answered Morrice, returning with a look somewhat less elated than he had set out, “the gardens are so full there is not a box to be had; but I hope we shall get one for all that, for I observed one of the best boxes in the gardens, just at the right there, with nobody in it but that gentleman who made me spill the tea pot at the Pan- theon. So I made an apology, and told him the case ; but he only said humph 7 and hay 7 so then I told it all over again, but he served me just the same, for he never seems to hear what one says till one's just done, and then he begins to recollect one's speaking to him ; however, though 1 re- peated it all over and over again, I could get nothing from him but just that humph 7 and hay 7 but he is so remarkably absent, that I dare say if we all go and sit down round him, he won't know a word of the matter.” “Won’t he?” cried Mr. Harrel, “ have at him then!” And he followed Mr. Morrice, though Cecilia, who now half suspected that ail was to end in a mere idle frolic, 3c 2 37S CECILIA. warmly joined her remonstrances to those of Mrs. Harrel, which were made with the utmost, but with fruitless earn- estness. Mr. Meadows, who was seated in the middle of the box, was lolloping upon the table with his customary ease, and picking his teeth with his usual inattention to all about him. The intrusion, however, of so large a party, seemed to threaten his insensibility with unavoidable disturbance ; though, imagining they meant but to look in at the box, and pass on, he made not, at theii first approach, any alter- ation in his attitude or employment. “See, ladies,” cried ihe officious Morrice, “I told you there was room ; and I am sure this gentleman will be very happy to make way for you, if it’s only out of good-nature to the waiters, as he is neither eating nor drinking, nor do- ing any thing at all. So if you two ladies will go in at that side, Mr. Harrel and that other gentleman,” pointing to Mr. Marriot, “ may go to theother, and then I’ll sit by the ladies here, and those other two gentlemen — ” Here Mr. Meadows, raising himself from his reclining posture, and staring Morrice in the face, gravely said, “ What’s all this, sir?” Morrice, who expected to have arranged the whole party without a question, and who understood so little of modish airs as to suspect neither affectation nor trick in the absence of mind and indolence of manners, which he observed in Mr. Meadows, was utterly amazed by this interrogatory, and staring himself, in return, said “Sir, you seemed so thoughtful — I did not think — I did not suppose you woulcl have taken any notice of just a person or two coming into the box.” “Did not you, sir?” said Mr Meadows, very coldly ; “ why then now you do, perhaps you’ll be so obliging as to let me have my own box to myself.” And then again he returned to his favourite position. “ Certainly sir,” said Morrice, bowing, ‘ J am sure I did not mean to disturb you : for you seemed so lost in thought, that I’m sure 1 did not much believe you would have seen us.” “Why, sir,” said Mr Hobson, strutting forward, “if I may speak my opinion, I should think, as you happen to CECILIA. 379 be quite alone, a little agreeable company would be no such bad thing. At least that's my notiun." “And if I might take the liberty,” said the smooth- tongued Mr Sim kins ‘ for to put in a word, I should think the best way would be, if the gentleman has no peticklar objection, for me just to stand somewhere heieabouts, and so when he's had what he's a mind to, be ready for to pop in at one side, as he come-s out at t'other ; for if one does not look pretty 'cutt such a full night as this, a box is whipt away before one knows where one is.” “No, no, no,” cried Mrs. Harrel impatiently; “let us neither sup in this box nor in any other ; let us go away entirely.” “ Indeed we must ! indeed we ought !” cried Cecilia; “ it is utterly improper we should stay ; pray let us begone immediately.” Mr. Harrel paid not the least re, ard to these requests ; but Mr. Meadows, who could no longer seem unconscious of what passed, did himself so much violence as to arise, and ask if the ladies would be seated. “ I said so !” cried Morrice triumphantly ; “I was sure there was no gentleman but woud be happy to accommodate two such ladies !” The ladies, however, far from happy in being so accom- modated, again tried their utmost inlluence in persuading Mr. Harrel to give up this scheme, but he would not hear them; he insisted upon their going into the box, and, ex- tending the piivilege which Mr. Meadows had given, he invited, without ceremony, the whole party to follow. Mr Meadows, though he seemed to thin is this a very extraordinary encroachment, had already made such an effort from his general languor, in the repulse he had given to Morrice, that he could exert himself no further; but after looking round him with mingled vacancy and con- tempt, he again seated himself, and suffered Morrice to do the honours without more opposition. Morrice, but too happy in the office, placed Cecilia next to Mr. Meadows, and would have made Mr. Marriot her other neighbour, but she insisted upon not being parted from Mrs. Harrel ; and, therefore, as he chose to sit also by that lady himself, Mr. Marriot was obliged to follow^ 380 CECILIA. Mr. Harrel to the other side of the box. Mr. Hobson, without further invitation, placed himself comfortably in one of the corners ; and Mr. Simkins, who stood modestly for some time in another, finding the further encouragement for which he waited was not likely to arrive, dropt quietly into his seat without it. Supper was now ordered, and while it was preparing, Mr. Harrel sat totally silent ; but Mr. Meadows thought proper to force himself to talk with Cecilia, though she could well have dispensed with such an exertion of his politeness. “ Do you like this place, ma'am ?” “ Indeed I hardly know, — 1 never was here before,” “No wonder! the only surprise is, that any body can come to it at all. To see a set of people walking after no- thing ! strolling about without view or object I 'tis strange! don’t you think so ma'am?” “ Yes, — I believe so,” said Cecilia, scarce hearing him, “O it gives me the vapours, the horrors,” cried he, “to see what poor creatures we all are! taking pleasure even from the privation of it ! forcing ourselves into exercise and toil, when we might at least have the indulgence of sitting still and reposing !” “ Lord, sir,” cried Morrice, “ don't you like walking?” “Walking?” cried he; “I know nothing so humili- ating : to see a rational being in such mechanical motion ! with no knowledge upon what principles he proceeds, but plodding on, one foot before another, without even any con- sciousness which is first, or how either ” “Sir,” interrupted Mr. Hobson, “1 hope you won't take it amiss if I am bold to tell my opinion ; for mv way is this, let every man speak his maxim. But whafi say as to this matter, is this, if a man must always be stopping to Consider what foot he is standing upon, he had need have little to do, being the right does as well as the left, and the left as well as the right. And that, sir, I think, is a fair argument.” Mr. Meadows deigned no other answer to this speech than a look of contempt. “I fancy, sir,” said Morrice, “you are fond of riding, for all your good horsemen like nothing else.” CECILIA, 381 “ Riding!” exclaimed Mr. Meadows ; “oh barbarous! Wrestling and boxing are polite arts to it 1 Trusting to the discretion of an animal less intellectual than ourselves! a sudden spring may break all our limbs, a stumble may frac- ture our skulls ! And what is the inducement ? to get melt- ed with heat, killed with fatigue, and covered with dust ! miserable infatuation ! — Do you love riding, ma'am?” “Yes, very well, sir.” “I am glad to hear it,” cried he, with a vacant smile ; “ you are quite right ; I am entirely of your opinion.” Mr. Simkins now, with a look of much perplexity, yet rising and bowing, said, “ I don’t mean, sir, to be so rude as to put in my oar, but if 1 did not take you wrong. I’m sure just now I thought you seemed for to make no great ’count of riding, and yet now, ail of the sudden, one would think you was a speaking up for it!,’ “ Why, sir,” said Morrice, “ If you neither like riding nor walking, you can have no pleasure at all but only in sitting.” “Sitting!” repeated Mr Meadows, with a yawn, “O worse and worse! it dispirits me to death ! it robs me of all fire and life ! it weakens circulation, and destroys elasticity.” “ Pray then, sir,” said Morrice, “ do you iike any better to stand ?” “ To stand? O intolerable ! the most unmeaning thing in the world ! one had better be made a mummy ” “Why then, pray sir,” said Mr. Hobsop, “let me ask the favour of you to tell us what it is you do like?” Mr. Meadows, though he stared him full in the face, began picking his teeth without making any answer. “ ’^^ou see, Mr Hobson,” said Mr. Simpkins, “the gentleman has no mind for to tell you, but if I may take the liberty just to put in, I think if he neither likes walk- ing, nor riding, nor sitting, nor standing ; I take it he likes nothing.” “ Well, sir,” said Morrice, “ but here comes supper, and I hope you will like that. Pray, sir, may I help you to a bit of this ham ?” Mr. Meadows, not seeming to hear him, suddenly, and with an air of extreme weariness, arose, and without speak- ing to any body, abruptly made his way out of the box. 382 CECILIA. Mr. Hand now, starting from the gloomy reverie info which he had sunk, undertook to do the honours of the table, insisting with much violence upon helping everybody, calling for more provisions, and struggling to appear in high spirits and good humour. In a few n)inutes, Captain Aresby, who was passing by the box, stopt to make his compliments to Mrs. Harrei and Cecilia. “ What a concourse 1” he cried, casting up his eyes with an expression of half-dying fatigue, “ are you not accable? for my part, I hardly respire. I have really hardly ever had the honour of being so obsede before.” “ We can make very good room, sir,” said Morrice, “if you chuse to come in.” “Yes,” said Mr. Simkins, obsequiously standing up, “I am sure the gentleman will be very welcome to take my place, for I did not mean for to sit down, only just to look agreeable.” “ By no means, sir,” answered the Captain : “I shall be quite au daespoir if I derange any body.” “ Sir,” said Mr. Hobson, “ 1 don’t offer you my place, because I take it for granted if you had a mind to come in, you would not stand upon ceremony ; for what I say is, let every man speak his mind, and then we shall all know how to conduct ourselves. That’s my way, and let any man tell me a better !” The Captain, after looking at him with a surprise not wholly unmixt with horror, turned from him without mak- ing any answer, said to Cecilia, “ And how long, ma'am, have you tried this petrifying place ?” “An hour, — two hours, 1 believe,” she answered. “Really? and nobody here! asui demonde, but nobody here ! a blank partout /” “ Sir,” said Mr, Simkins, getting out of the box, that he might bow with more facility, “ 1 humbly crave pardon for the liberty, but if I understood right, you said something of a blank ; pray, sir, if I may be so free, has there been any thing of the nature of a lottery, or a raffle, in the garden • or the like of that ?” * ** Sir ! said the captain, regarding him from head to foot» I am quite assomme that I cannot comprehend your allusion.” ^ CECILIA. 3S3 Sir, i ask pardon,” said the man, bowing still lower, I only thought if in case it should not be above half-al crown, or such a matter as that, I might perhaps stretch a poin t once in a way.” The Captain, more and more amazed, stared at him again, but not thinking it necessary to take any fuither notice of him, he enquired of Cecilia if she meant to stay late. “I hope not," she replied, “ I have already stayed later than I wished to do.” “ Really!” said he, with an unmeaning smile. “Well, that is as horrid a thing as 1 have the malheur to know! For my part, I make it a principle not to stay long in these semi-barbarous places, for after a certain time, they bore me to that degree I am quite abimt. I shall, however, do possible to have the honour of seeing you again.” And then, with a smile of yet greater insipidity he pro- tested he was reduced to despair in leaving her, and walked on. “ Pray, ma’am, if I may be so bold,” said Mr. Hobson, “ what countryman may that gentleman be?” “ An Englishman, I suppose, sir,” said Cecilia. “ An Englishman, ma am!” said Mr. Hobson, “ why I could not understand one word in ten that came out of his mouth.” “Why indeed,” said Mr. Simkins, “ he has a mighty peticklar way of speaking, for I’m sure 1 thought 1 could have sworn he said something of a blank, or to that amount, but I could make nothing of it when I come to ask him about it.” “Let every man speak to be understood,” cried Mr. Hobson, “ that’s my notion of things ; for as tv.^ all those line words that nobody can m.rke out, 1 iiold them to be of no use. Suppose a man was to talk in that manner w’hen he’s doing business, what would be the upshot ? who’d un- derstand what he meant ? Well, that's the proof; what i’n’t fit for business, i'n’t of no value; that’s my way of judging, and that's what I go upon.” “ He said some other things,” rejoined Mr. Simkins, “ that I could not make out veiy dear, only I had no mind to ask°” any more questions, for fear of his answering me VOL. 1. 3D 11 384 CECaiA. something I should not understand : but as well as I could make it out, I thought I heard him say there was nobody here ! what he could mean by that, I can’t pretend for to guess, for I’m sure the garden is so stock ful;, that if there was to come many more, 1 don’t know where they could cram 'em.” “ I took notice ofit at the time,” 'aid Mr Hob'on, “for it i’n't many things are lost upon me ; and to tell you the truth, I thought he had been making pretty free with his bottle, by his seeing no better/’ “Bottle!” cried Mr. Barrel, “ a most excellent hint, Mr. Hobson ! come ! let us all make free with the bottle!” He then called for more wine, and insisted that every body should pledge him. Mr. Mai riot and Mr Morrice made not any objection, and Mr. Hobson and Mr. Simkins consented with much delight. Mr. Harrel now grew extremely unruly, the wine he had already drunk being thus poweifully aided; and his next project was to make his wife and Cecilia follow his example. Cecilia, raoie incensed than ever to see no pre- paration made for his departure, and all possible pains taken to unfit him for setting out, refused him with equal firm- ness and displeasure, and lamented with the bitterest self- reproaches, the consent which had been forced from her to be present at a scene ol such disorder : but Mrs. Harrel would have opposed him in vain, had not his attention been called ofiP to another object. 1 his was Sir Robert Floyer, who perceiving the party at some distance, no sooner ob- served Mr Marriot in such company, than advancing to the box with an air of rage and defiance, he told Mr. Harrel he had something to say to him “Ay,” cried Harrel, “ say to me ? and so have i tu say to you ! Come among us and be merry ! Here, make room, make way! Sit close, my friends!” Sir Rcbeit, wh»< now saw he was in no situation to be reasoned with, stood for a nu;ment silent ; ano then, look- ing round ihe box, and observing Messrs Hobson and Simkins, he exc aimed alouo, “Why \\hat queer party have you got into? who the d— I have you picked up heu ?” Mr. Hobson, who to the itiiportance of lately acquired weauh, now added the courage of newly drunk champagne, CECILIA. 385 stoutly kept his ground, without seeming at all conscious he was included in this interrogation ; but Mr Simkins, who had still his way to make in the world, and whose habitual servility wouid have resisted a larger draught, was easily intimidated ; he again, therefore, stood up, and with the most cringing respect offered the Baronet his place : who, taking neither of the offer or the offerer the smallest notice, stood still opposite to Mr. Harrel, waiting for some explanation. Mr. Harrel, however, who no vv grew really incapable of giving any, only repeated his invitation, that he would make one among them. “ One among you ?” cried he angrily, and pointing to Mr. Hobson, Why you don’t fancy I’ll sit down with a bricklayer ?” “ A bricklayer ?” said Mr. Harrel, “ay, sure and a hosier too ; sit down, Mr. Simkins, keep your place, man !” Mr. Simkins most thankfully bowed ; but Mr. Hobson, who could no longer avoid feeling the personality of this reflection, boldly answered, “Sir you may sit down with a worse man any day in the week ' I have done nothing I’m ashamed of, and no man can say to me, why diet y< u so? I don’t tell you sir, what I’m worth ; no one has a right to ask ; I only say three times five is fifteen, that s all.” “ Why what the d — I, you impudent feliow,” cried the haughty Baronet, “you don't presume to mutter, do you? “Sir,” answered Mr Hobson, very hotly. “ I shan t put up with abuse from no man! I’ve got a fair chaiacter in the world, and wherewithal to live by my own liking. And what I have is my own, and all I say is, let every one say the same, for that's the w^ay to fear no man, and face the devil !” • c- i_ “ W^hat do you mean by that, fellow ? cried Sir Robeit. “ Fellow, sir, this is talking no-how. Do you think a man of substance, that's got above the uorld, is to be ueated like a little scrubby apprentice ? Let every man have his own, that’s always my way of thinking ; and this I can say for myself, I have as good a right to shew my head where I please as ever a member of parliament in all England , an I wish every bpdy here could say as much. 3,86 CECILIA. Sir Robert, fury starting intp hl3 eyes, was beginning .an answer; but Mrs. Harrel with terror, arid Cecilia ^with dignity, calling upon them'^oth ccilia, rising, and I jcan remaia here no longer ” CECILIA. 3BS “This is cruel indeed,” cried Mrs. Harrcl, bursting into tears ; “did you only bring me heie to insult me ? ' “ No 1” cried he, suddenly embracing her, “ by this part- ing kiss I” then wildly jumping upon his seat, he leapt over the table, and was out of sight in an instant. Amazement seized all who remained ; Mrs. Harrel and Cecilia, indeed, doubted not but he was actually gone to the chaise he had ordered ; but the manner of his dt pariure affrighted them, and his preceding behaviour ban rnade them cease to expect it ; Mrs. Harrel, leaning upon Cecilia, continued to weep, while site, confouncied and alarmed, scarce knew whether she should stay and console her, or fly after Mr. Harrel, whom she feared had incapacitated himself from finding his cahise, by the very n ethod he had taken to gather couiage loi seeking it. This, however, was but the apprehension of a moment; another, and a far more horrible one, drove it from her ima- gination : for scarcely had Mr. Harrel quitted the box and their sight, before their ears were suddenly struck with the report of a pistol. Mrs. Harrel gave a loud sCream, which was involunta- rily echoed by Cecilia ; everj;' body arose, some with ofhd- ous zeal to seive the ladies, and. others to hasten to the spot whence the dreadful sound proceeded. Sir Robert Floyer again offered his services in conducting them home ; but they could listen to no such proposal ; Cecilia with difficulty refrained from rushing out herself to discover what was passing ; but her dread of being followed by Mrs. Harrel prevented her; they both therefore waited, expecting every instant some intelligence, as all but the Baronet and Mr. Marriot were now gone to seek it. Nobody, however, returned ; and their terrors encreased every moment ; Mrs. Harrel wanted to run out herself, but Cecilia, conjuring her to keep still, begged Mr Marriot to bring them some account. Mr. Man iot, like the messen- gers who had proceeded him, came not back: an instant seemed an age, and Sir Robert Floyer was also entreated to procure information. Mrs. Harrel and Cecilia were now left to themselves, and their horror was too great for speech or motion: they stood close to each other, listening to every sound, and CECILIA. 3S-> receiving every possible addition to their alarm, by the ge- neral coi fusion vvnich they observed in the gardens, in which, thougi) hi ,h gentlemen and waiters were running to and fro, riot a creature was walking, and all amusement seemed foi gotten From this dreadful state they were at length removed, though not relieved, by t!>e sight of a waiter who, as he was passing, shewed himselt almost covered with blood ! Mrs. Harrel vehemently called aiter him, demanding whence it i ame ? “ From the gentleman, ma am,” answered he in haste, “ that has shot himself and then ran on. Mrs. Harrel uttered a piercing scream, and sunk on the ground : for Cecilia, shuddering with horror, lust all her own .'tienglh, and could no longer lend her any support. So great at this time was the general coniusion of the place, that for some minutes their particular distress was unknown, and their situation unnoticed ; till at length an elderly gentleman came up to the box, and humanely offered his assistance. Cecilia pointing to her unfortunate friend, who had not fallen into a fainting fit, but merely from weakness and ter- ror, accepted liis hr ip in raising her. She was lifted up, however, without the smallest effort on her own part, and Was only kept upon her seat by being held theie by the stranger, for Cecilia, whose whole frame was shaking, tried in vain lo sustain her. This semleraan, from tire violence of their distress, began now to suspect its motive, and addressing himself to Cecilia, said, “ I am afraid, madam, this unfortunate gentleman was some lelation to you ?” Neithe r of them speke, but their silence w^as sufficiently expiessive. “ Jt IS pity, madam,” he continued, “that some friend can’t ordei him out of the crowd, and have him kept quiet till a surgeon can be brought,” “A surgeon!” exclaimed Cecilia, recovering from one surprise by the effect of another, “ is it then possible he may be saved ?” And without waiting to have her question answered, she ran out of the box herself, flying wildly about the garden, and calling for heip as she flew, li 1 1 she found the house by 390 CECILIA. the entrance, ail'd then going up to the" bar, “ Is a surgeon sent for?” she exclaimed, “let a surgeon be fetched instantly! “ A surgeon, ma’am,” she was answered, “Is not' the gentleman dead ?” “ No, no, no !” sh6 cried ; “he must be brought in : let some careful people go and brin^* him in,” Nor -would she quit the bar, till two or three waiters were called, and leceived her orders. And then, eager to see them executed herself, she ran, fearless of being alone, and without thought of being lost, towards the fatal spot, whither the crowd guided her. She could not, irtdecd, have been more secure from insult or molestation if sur- rounded by twenty guards ; for the scene of desperation and horror which many had witnessed, and of which all had heard the signal, engrossed the universal attention, and took, even from the most idle and licentious, all spirit for gallantry and amusement. Here, while making vain attempts to penetrate through the multitude, that she might see and herself judge the actual situation of Mr. Harrel, and give, if there yet was room foi* hope, such orders as would best conduce to his safety and recovery, she was met by Mr, Marriot, who entieaied her net to press forward to a sight which he had found too shock- ing for himself, and insisted upon protecting her ihiough the crowd. “ If he is alive,” cried she, refusing his aid, “and if there is any chance he may be saved, no sight shall be too shock- ing to deter me from seeing him properly attended.” “All attendance,” answered he, “ will be in vain; he is not, indeed, yet dead, but his recovery is impossible. There is a surgeon with him already, one who happened to be in the gardens, and he told me himself that the wound was inevitably mortal.” Cecilia, though greatly disappointed, still determined to make way to him, that she might herself enquire if, in his last moments, there was any thing he wished to communi- cate, or desired to havf done : but, as she struggled to pro- ceed, she was next met and stopt by Sir Robert Floyer, who, forcing her back, acquainted her that all was over! The shock with which she received this account, though unmixed -with any tenderness of regret, and resulting mere- ly from general humanity, was yet so violent as almost id CECILIA. 391 ♦verpovrer her. Mr. Harrel, indeed, had forfeited all right to her esteem, and the unfeeling selfishness of his whole be- haviour had long provoked her resentment and excited her disgust ; yet a catastrophe so dreadful, and horn which she bad hetself made such effats to rescue him, filled her with S0 much horror, that, turning extiemely sick, she was obliged to be supported to the nearest box, and stop there for hartshorn and water A few minutes, however, sufficed to divest her of all care for herselb in the concern with which she recollected the situation of Mrs. Harrel ; she hastened, therefore, back to her, attended by the Baronet and Mr. M rriot, and found her stilt leaning upou the stianger, and weeping aloud. The fatal news had already reached her ; and though all aflFection between Mr. Harrel and herself had mutually sub- sided from the iirst two or three months of their marriage, 3 conclusion so horrible to all connection between them could not be heard without sorrow and distress Her tem- per, too naturally soft, retained not resentment, and Mr. Harrel, now sepatated from her for ever, wa' only icmem- bered as the Mr. Harrel who first won her heart. Neither pains nor tenderness were spared on the part of Cecilia to console her ; who finding her utterly incapable eithel of acting or directing for herself, and knowing her at all times to be extremely heipless, liow summoned to her ^wn aid all the stiength of mind she possessed, and dcier- miried, upon this melancholy occasion, both to think and act for her widowed friend to the utmost stretch of her abi- lities and power. As soon, therefore, as the first effusions of her grief were over, she prevailed with her to go to the house, where she was hu I aueiy offered the use of a quiet room, till Rbes, he kept off his demands, those of others were not less clamorous: his debts increased, his power of paying them diminished ; he grew sour and desperate, and in one night lost 30001. beyond what he could produce or offer any security for. This, as he said, was what he wished ; and now he was, for the present, to e.xtricate himself by doubling stakes and winning, or to force himself into suicide by doubling such a loss. For though, with tolerable ease, he could forget ac- counts innumerable with his tradesmen, one ncglecteci dett of honour rendered his existence insupportable ; For this last great effort, his difficulty was to raise the 30001. already due, without which the proposal could not VQL. I. 3 G 11 408 CECILIA. be made and, after various artifices and attempts, he at length contrived a meeting with Mr. Marriot, intreated him to lend him 20001. for only two days, and offered his warm- est services in his favour with Cecilia. The rash and impassioned young man, deceived by his accounts into believing that his ward was wholly at his dis- jjosal, readily advanced the money, without any other con- dition than that of leave to visit freely at his house, to the. exclusion of Sir Robert Flpyer. “The other 10001.” con- tinued Mr. Monckton, “ 1 know not ho w he obtained, but he certainly had three. You, I hopCj v\eie not so un- guarded ” “Ah, Mr. Monckton,” said Cecilia, “blame me not too severely ! the attacks that were made, — thenc' essity of otherwise betraying the worthy and half ruined Mr. Arnott — ” “O fie!” cried he, “ to suffer your understanding to be lulled asleep, because the weak-minded Mr. Arnott'S could not be kept awake 1 I thought after such cautions from me, and such expeiience of your own, you could not again have been thus duped.” “ 1 thought so too,” answered she; “ but yet when the trial came, on, — indeed you know not how I was perse- cuted.” “ Yet you see,” returned he, “ the utter inutility of the attempt ; you see, and 1 told you before-hand, that nothing could save him.” “•True; but had I been firmer in refusal, I mightnot so well have known it; J might then have upbraided ray- self with supposing that my compliance would have rescued him.” “You have indeed,” cried Mr. Monckton, “fallen into most worthless' hands, and the Dean was much to blame for naming so lightly a guardian to a fortune such as yours.” “ Pardon me,” cried Cecilia, “he never entrusted him with ray fortune, he committed it wholly to Mr. Briggs.” “But if he knew not the various subterfuges by which such a caution might be baffled, hje ought to have taken ad- vice of those who were better informed. Mr. Biiggs, too ! what a wretch! mean, low, vulgar, sordid! — the whole CECILIA. 409 city of London, I believe, could not produce such another* how unaccountable to make you the ward of a man whose house you cannot enter without disgust !” “His house,” cried Cecilia, “my unde never wished me to enter: he believed, and he was fight, that my for- tune would be safe in his hands ; but for myself, he con- cluded I should always reside at Mr. Harrel’s.” “But does not the city at this time,” said Mr. Monck- ton, “abound in families where, while your fortune was in security, you might youiself have lived with propriety? Nothing requires circumspection so minute as the choice of a guardian to a girl of large fortune ; and in general one thing only is attended to, an appearance of property Mo- rals, integrity, character, are either not thought of, or inves- tigated so superficially, that the enquiry were as well whol- ly omitted.” He then continued his relation. Mr. Harrel hastened with his 30001. to the gaming table : one throw of the dice settled the business; he lost, and ought immediately to have doubled the sum. That, how- ever, was never more likely to be in his power ; he knew if ; he knew, too, the joint claims of Cecilia's deceived ad- mirers, and that his house was again threatened with execu- tions from various quaiters: — he went home, loaded his pistols, and took the methods already related to work him- self into courage for the deed. The means by which Mr. Monckton had procured these particulats were many and various, and not all such as he could avow ; since in the course of his researches, he had tampered with servants and waiters, and scrupled at no me- thods that led but to discovery. Nor did his intelligence srop here. He had often, he said, wondered at the patience of Mr. Harrel’s creditors, but novv’, even that was cleared up bv a fresh proof of infamy: he had been himself at the house in Portman- square, where he was informed that Mr. Hanel had k^pt them quiet, by repeated assurances that hi' ward, in a short time, meant to lend him money for discharging them ail. Cecilia saw now but too clearly the reason her stay in his house was so important to him ; and v/ondered less at his 410 CECILIA. vehemence ,upon fhat subject, though she detested it more. “Oh how little,” cried she, “are the gay and the dissipated to be known upon a short acquaintance ! Ex- pensive, indeed, and thoughtless and luxurious he appear- ed to me immediately ; but fraudulent, base, designing, capable of every pernicious art of treachery and duplicity, — such, indeed, I expected not to find him; his very flightiness and levity seemed incompatible with such hy- pocrisy ” “His flightiness” said Mr. Monckton, “proceeded not from gaiety of heart, it was merely the effect of effort ; and his spirits were as mechanical as his taste for diversion. He had not strong parts, nor were his vices the result of his pas- sions ; had economy been as much in fashion as extrava- gance, he would have been equally eager to practise it ; he was a mere time-server, he struggled but to be somethings and having neither talents nor sentiments to know what, he looked around him for any pursuit, and seeing distinction was more easily attained in the road to ruin than in any other, he galloped along it, thoughtless of being thrown when he came to the bottom, and sufiBciently gratified in shewing his horsemanship by the way.” Arid now, all that he had either to hear or to communi- cate upon this subject being told, he enquirjed, with a face strongly expressive of his disapprobation, why he found her at Mr. Delvile s, and what had become of her resolution to avoid his house ? Cecilia, who, in the hurry of her mind and her affairs, had wholly forgotten that such a resolution had been taken, blushed at the question, and could not, at first, recollect what had urged her to break it ; but when he proceeded to mention Mr. Briggs, she was no longer distressed ; she gave a circumstantial account of her visit to him, related the mean misery in which he lived, and told him the imprac- ticability of her residing in such a house. Mr. Monckton could now in decency make no further opposition, however painful and reluctant was his acqui- escence : yet before he quitted her, he gave himself the con- solation of considerably obliging her., and softened his cha- grin by the sweetness of her acknowledgements. CEGILIA. •m He enc][uired how much money in all she had now taken up of the Je w ; and hearing it was 90501. he represented to her the additional loss she must suffer by paying an exor- bitant interest for so laige a sum, and the almost tcrtainty with which she might be assured of very gross imposition ; he expatiated, also, upon the injury which her character might r reive in the world, weie it known that she used such methods to piocure money, since the circumstances which had been her inducement would probably either be unnoticed or misrepresented ; and when he had awakened in her much uneasiness and regret upon this subject, he offered to pay the Jew without delay, clear her wholly from his power, and quietly receive the money, when she came of age, from heiself. A proposal so truly friendly, made her look upon the regard of Mr. Monckton in a higher and nobler point of view than her utmost esteem and reverence had hithero placed it : yet she declined at first accepting the offer, from an apprehension it might occasion him inconvenience ; but when he assured her he had a yet larger sum lying at pre- sent useless in a banker’s hands, and promised to receive the same interest for his money he should be paid from the funds, she joyfully listened to him ; and it was settled that they should send for the Jew, take his discharge, and utterly dismiss him Mr. Monckton, however, fearful of appearing too offi- cious in her affairs, wished not to have his part in the transact! >n published, and advised Cecilia not to reveal the matter to the Delvile’s. But great as was his ascendency Qver her mind, her aversion to mystery and hypocrisy were still greater ; she would not, therefoie, give him this pro- mise, though her own desiic to wait some seasonable oppor- tunity for disclosing it, made her consent that tlnii meeting with the Jew should be at the house of Mrs. Koberts, in Fetter-lane, at twelve o clock the next morning; where she might also see Mrs. Hill and her children be. ore she left town. They now parted, Cecilia charmed more than ever with her friend, whose kindness, as she suspected not his mo- tives, seemed to spring from the most disinterested gene-* rosity. 412 CECILIA. That, however, was the smallest feature in the character of Mr. Monckton, who was entirely a man of the world, shrewd, penetrating, attentive to his interest, and watchful of every advantage to improve it. In the service he now did Cecilia, he was gratifyed by giving her pleasure, but that was by no means his only gratification ; he still hoped her fortune would one day be his own, he was glad to transact any business with her," and happy in making her owe to hkn an obligation: but his principal inducement was yet stronger.: he saw with much*alarm the facility of her liberality ; and he feared while she continued in cor- respondence with the Jew, that the easiness with which she could raise money would be a motive with her to continue the practice whenever she was softened by distress, or sub- dued by entreaty: but he hoped, by totally concluding the •negotiation, the temptation to be removed ; and that the hazard and inconvenience of renewing it, would strengthen her aversion to such an expedient, till, between difficulties and disuse, that dangerous resource would be thought of no more. Cecilia then returned to Mrs. Harrel, whom she found as she had left, weeping in the arms of her brother. They consulted upon what was best to be done, and agreed that she ought in.stantly to leave town ; for which purpose a chaise was -ordered directly. They settled also, that Mr. Arnott, when he had conveyed her to his country house, which was in Suffolk, should hasten back to superintend the funeral, and see if any thing could be saved from the creditors for his sister. Yet this plan, till Cecilia was summoned to dinner, they had not the resolution to put in practice. They were then obliged to be gone, and tlieir parting was very melancholy. Mrs. Harrel wept immoderately, and Mr. Arnott felt a concern too tender for avowal, though too sincere for con- cealment. Cecilia, however glad to change her situation, was extremely depressed by their sorrow, and entreated to have frequent accounts of their proceedings, warmly repeat- ing her offers of service, and protestations of faithful regard. She accompanied them to the chaise, and tlpfcn went to the dining-parlour, where she found Mr. and Mrs. Delvile, but saw nothing more of their son the whole day. CECILIA. 413 The next morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Delvile set out upon some leave-taking visits, and Cecilia went in a chair to Fetter-lane i Here, already waiting for her, she met the punctual Mr. Monckton. and the disappointed Jew, who most unwillingly was paid off, and relinquished his bonds ; and who found in the severe and crafty Mr. Monckton, an- other sort of man to deal with, than with the necessitous and heedless Mr. Harrel. As soon as he was dismis.sed, other bonds were drawn and signed, the old ones were destroyed ; and Cecilia, to her inhnitc satisfaction, had no creditor but Mr. Monck- ton. Her bookseller, indeed, was still unpaid, but her debt with him was public, and gave her not any uneasi- ness. She now, with the warmest expressions of gratitude, took leave of Mr. Monckton, who suffered the most pain- ful struggles in repressing the various apprehensions to which the patting, and her establishment at the Delvile's, gave rise. She then enquired briefly into the affairs of^Mrs. Hill, and having heard a satisfactory account of them, returned to St.'James’s-square. CHAPTER VIII. A DEBATE. IT was still early, and Mrs. Delvile was not expected till late. Cecilia, therefore, determined to make a visit to Miss Eelfield, to whom she had been denied during the late disoidets at Mr. Harrel’s, and whom she could not endure to mortify by cjuitting tovvn without seeing, since whatever were her doubts about Delvile, of her she had none. To Portland-street, therefore,'jshe ordered her chair, de- liberating as she went, whether it W'crc better to adhere to the reserve she had hitherto maintained, or to satisfy her 414 CECILIA. perplexity at once, by an investigation into the truth. And still were these scruples undecided, when, looking in at the windows as she passed them to the door of the house, she perceived Miss Belheld standing in the parlour with a letter in her iiand, which s!ie was fervently pressing to her lips. Struck by this sight, a thousand painful conjectures oc- curred to her, all representing that the letter was from Del- vile, and all explaining to his dishonour the mystery of his late conduct. And far were her suspicions from diminish- ing, when, upon being shewn into the parlour, Miss Bel- held, trembling with her eagerness to hide it, hastily forced the letter into her pocket. Cecilia, surprised, dismayed, alarmed, stopt involunta- rily at the door; but Miss Belheld, having secured what was so evidently precious to her, advanced, though not with- out blushing, and taking her hand said, “How good this is of you, madam, to, come to me! when I did not know where to hnd you, and when I was almost afraid I should have found you no more *.'* She then told her, that the hrst news she had heard the preceding morning, was the violent death of Mr. Harrel, which had been related to her, with all its circumstances, by the landlord of theii lodgings, who was himself one of his principal creditors, and had immediately been at Port- man-square to put in liis claims; where he had learnt that all the family had quitted the house, which was entirely occupied by bailiffs. “And 1 was sorry,” she continued, “that j/ou should meet with any hardships, and not know where to go, and have another home to seek, when I am sure the commonest beggar would never want an habitation, if you had one in your power to give him I But how sad and melancholy you look! I am afraid this bad action of Mr. Harrel has made you quite unhappy? Ah, madam, you are too good for this guilty world ! your own compassion and benevolence will not suffer you to rest in it !” Cecilia, touched by this tender mistake of her present uneasiness, embraced her, and with much kindness, an- swered, “ No, sweet Henrietta ! it is j/ou who are good, who are,innocent^ wiK> are .guileless too, I hope, are happy !” CECILIA. 415 “ And are not you, ma'am?” cried Henrietta, fondly returning her cares'ses. “ Oh if you are not, who will ever deserve to be ! I think I should rather be unhappy myself, than see you so ; at least I am sure I ought, for the whole world may be the better for your welfare ; and as to me, — who would care what become of me !” “ Ah, Henrietta!” cried Cecilia, “ do you speak sin- cere ? do you indeed think yourself so little valued ?” “ Why I don’t say,” answered she, “ but that I hope there are some who think a little kindly of me, for if I had not that hope, I should wish to break my heart and die ! but what is that to the love and reverence so many have for you ?” “ Suppose,” said Cecilia, with a forced smile, “ I should put your love and reverence to the proof? do you think they would stand it?” “ O yes, indeed I dw I and I have wished a thousand and a thousand times that I could but shew you my affection, and let you see that I did not love you because you were a great lady, and high in the world, and full of power to do me service, but because you were so good and so kind, so gentle to the unfortunate, and so sweet to every body !” “ Hold, hold,” cried Cecilia, “ and let me try if indeed, fairly and truly, you will answer what I mean to ask.” “ O yes,” cried she, warmly, “ if it is the dearest secret I have in the world I there is nothing I will not tell, you ; I will open my whole heart to you, and I shall be proud to think you will let me trust you, — for I am sure, if you did not care a little for me, you would not take such a trouble.” “ You are, indeed, a sweet creature !” said Cecilia, hesitating whether or not to take advantage of her frank- ness, “ and every time I see you, I love you better. For the world I would not injure you, — and perhaps your confidence — I know not, indeed, if it is fair or right to exact it — ” she stopt, extremely perplext, and while Hen- rietta Waited her further enquiries, they were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Belfield. “ Sure, child,” cried she, to her daughter, “ you VOL. I. 3 H 42 416 CECILIA. might have let me know before now who was here, yhen you knew so well how much I wished an opportunity to see the young lady myself : but here you come down upon pretence to see your brother, and then stay away all the morning, doing nobody knows what.” Xhen, turning to Cecilia, “ Maam, she continued, “ I have been in the greatest concern in the world for the little accident that liappened when I saw you before ; for to be sure I tliought, and indeed nobody will persuade me to the contrary, that it was rather an odd thing for such a young lady as you to come so often .after Henny, without so much as thinking of any other reason ; especially when, to be sure, there's no more comparison between her and my son, than between any thing in the world ; however, if it is so, it is so, and I mean to say no more about it, and to be sure he:s contented to think so, as if he was as mere an insignificant an animal as could be.” “ This matter, madam,” said Cecilia, “ has so long been settled, that I am sorry you should trouble yoursdlf to think of it again.” “ O ma'am, I only mention it by the way of making the proper apology, for as to taking any other notice of it, I have quite left it off; though to be sure what I think ! think; but as to my son, he has so got the upper hand of me, that it all goes for nothing, and I might just as well sing to him. Not that I mean to find fault with him nei- ther : so pray, ma’am, don’t let what I say be to liis pre- judice, for I believe all the time there’s nobody like him, neither at this end of the town nor the other ; for as to the other, he has more the look of a lord, by half, than of a shopman, and the reason's plain, for that’s the sort of company he's always kept, as I dare say a lady such as you must have seen long ago, » But for all that, there’s some little matters* that we mothers fancy we can see into as 'well as our children ; however, if they don’t think so, why it answers no purpose to dispute; for as to a better son, to be sure there never was one, and that, as I always say, is the best sign I know for making a good husband.” During this discourse, Henrietta was in the' utmost confusion, dreading lest the grossness of her mother should CECILIA. 417 again send off Cecilia in anger: but Ceciiia, who per- ceived her uneasiness, and who was more charmed with her character than ever, from the simpacity of her sin- cerity, determined to save her that pain, quietly hearing her harangue, and then quietly departing : though she was much provoked to find, from the complaining hints every instant thrown out, that Mrs. Belfield was still in- ternally convinced her son s obstinate bashfulness was the only obstacle to his chusing whom he pleased ; and' that though she no longer dared speak her opinion with open- ness, she was fully persuaded Cecilia was at his service. “ And for that reason,” continued Mrs. Belfield, “ to be sure any lady that knew her owii true advantage, could do nothing better than to take the recommendation of a mother, who must naturally know more of her own chil- dren's disposition than can be expected from a stranger : and as to such a son as mine, perhaps there a'n’t two such in the world, for he’s had a gentleman's education, and turn him which way he will, he’ll never see a handsomer person than his own ; though, poor dear love, he was always of the thinnest. But the misfortunes he’s had to struggle with would make nobody fatter. Here she was interrupted, and Cecilia not a little surprised, by the entrance of Mr. Hobson and Mr. Sim- kins. “ Ladies,” cried Mr. Hobson, whom she soon found was Mrs. Belfield’s landlord, “ I would not go up stairs without just stopping to let you know a little how the world goes.” Then perceiving and recollecting Cecilia, he exclaimed, 1 am proud to see you .again, ma’am, — miss, I believe I should say, for I take it you are too young a lady to be en- tered into matrimony yet.” “ Matrimony !” cried Mr. Simkins, “ no, to be sure, Mr. Hobson, how can you be so out of the way? the young lady looks niore like a miss from a boarding-school, if I might take the liberty for to say so.” “ Aye, more’s the pity,” cried Mrs. Belfield, “ for as to young ladies waiting and waiting, 1 don t see the great good of it ; especially if a proper match offers : for as to a good husband, I think no lady should be above accepting 3 M 2 418 CECILIA. him, if he’s modest and well-behaved, and has been brought up with a gentpel education.” “ .Why, as to that, ma'am,” said Mr. Simkins, “ its another guess-matter,' for as to the lady’s having a proper spouse, if I may be so free, I think as its no bad thing.” Cecilia now, taking Henrietta’s hand, was wishing her good morning ; but hearing Mr. Hobson say he was just come from Portman-square, her curiosity was excited, and she stayed a little longer. “ Sad work, ma’am,” said he ; “ who’d have thought Mr. Harrel asked us all to supper for the mere purpose qf such a thing as that! just to serve as a blind, as one may say. But when a man’s conscience is foul, what I say is, it’s ten to one but he makes away with himself. Let every man keep clear of the world, that’s my notion, and then he will be in no such hurry to get out of it.” “ Why, indeed, ma’am,” said Mr. Simkins, advancing with many bows to Cecilia, “ humbly cravirig pardon for the liberty, I can't pretend for to say I think Mr. Harrel did quite the honourable thing by us ; for as to his making ns drink all that champaigne, and the like, it was a sheer take in ; so that if I was to speak my mind, I can't say I (Esteem it much of a favour.” “ Well,” 'said Mrs. B^lfield, “ nothing's to me so sur-? prising as a person's being his own executioner ; for as to me, if I was to die for it fifty times, I don’t thirtk could do it.” “ So here,” resumed Mr. Hobson, “ we’re all defrauds ed of our dues ! nobody’s able to get his own, let him have worked for it ever so hard. Sad doings in the square, miss ! all at sixes and sevens ; for my part, I came off from Yauxhall as soon as the thing had happened, hoping to get the start of the others, or else I should have been proud to wait upon you, ladies, with the particulars' : but a man of business never stands upon ceremony, for when money’s at stake, that’s out of the question. However, I was too late, for the house was seized beforq ever I could ^et nigh it.” “ I hope, ma’am, if I may be so free,” said Mr. Sim- kins, again profoundly bowing, “ that you and the other lady did not take it much amiss my npt coming back to, CECILIA. 419 you, for it was not out of no disrespect, but only I got so squeezed in by the ladies and gentlemen that was a looking on, that I could not make my way out, do what I could. But by what I see, I must needs say if one’s in never such genteel company, people are always rather of the rudest when one’s in a crowd, for if one begs and prays never so, there’s no making ’em conformable.'’ “ Pray,” said Cecilia, “ is it likely anything will re- main for Mrs. Harrel ?” “ Remain I ma’am ?” repeated Mr. Hobson, “ yes, a mat- ter of a hundred bills without a receipt to em ! To be sure, ma'am, I don’t want to affront you, that was his intimate acquaintance, more especially as you've done nothing dis- respectful by me, which is more than I can say for Mrs- Harrel, who seemed downright ashamed of me, and of Mr. Simkins too, though, all things, considered, ’twouid have been as well for her not to have been quite so high. But of that in its proper season !” “ Fie, Mr. Hobson, lie,” cried the supple Mr Sim- kins, “ how can you be so hard? For my share, I must needs own I think the poor lady’s to be pitied ; for it must have been but a molloncholly sight to her, to see her spouse cut off so in the flower of his youth, as one may say; and you ought to scorn to take exceptions at a lady s proudness when she’s in so much trouble. To be sure, I can't say myself as she was over complaisant to make us welcome ; but I hope I am above being so unpitiful as for to owe her a grudge for it novy she’s so down in the mouth.” “ Let every body be civil !” cried Mr. Hobson, “ that’s my notion ; and then I shall be as much above being un- piliful as any body else.” “ Mrs. Harrel,” said Cecilia, “ was then too unhappy, and is now, surely, too unfortunate, to make it possible any resentment should be harboured against her.” “ You speak, ma am, like a lady of sense,” returned Mr. Hobson, “ and, indeed, that's the character I hear of you ; but, for all that, ma'am, every body’s willing to stand up for their own friends ; for which reason, ma'am, to be sure you’ll be making the best of it, both for the relict, and the late gentleman himself ; but, ma'am, if I was to make bold to speak my mind in a fair manner, what I should say 420 CECILIA. •would be this : a man here to go shooting himself with all his debts unpaid, is a mere piece of scandal, ma'am! I beg pardon, but what I say is, the truth's the truth, and I can't call it by no other nomination.” Cecilia now, finding she had not any chance of pacifying him, rang for her servant and chair. Mr. Simkins, then, affecting to lower his voice, said re- proachfully to hi& friend, “ Indeed, Mr. Hobson, to speak ingenuously, I must needs say, I don't think it overand above polite in you to be so hard upon the young lady’s acquaint- ance that was, now he’s defunct. To be sure, I can’t pre- tend for to deny but he behaved rather comical ; for not paying of nobody, nor so much as making one a little com- pliment, or the like, though he made no bones of taking all one’s goods, and always chused to have the prime of every thing ; why, it’s what I can’t pretend to stand up for. But that’s neither here nor there, for if he had behaved as bad again, poor miss could not teU how to help it ; and I dares to say she had no more hand in it than nobody at all.” “ No,” to be sure,” cried Mrs. Belfield, “ what should she have to do with it ? do you suppose a young lady of her fortune would want to take advantage of a person in trade ? I am sure it would be both a shame and a sin if she did, for if she has not money enough, I wonder who has. And for my part, I think, when a young lady has such a fine fortune as that, the only thing she has to do, is to be thinking of making a good use of it by dividing it, as one may say, with a good husband. For as to keeping it all for herself, I dare say she’s a lady of too much gene- rosity ; and as to only marrying somebody that’s got as much of his own, why it is not half so much a fa- vour : and if the young lady would take my advice, she’d marry for love, for as to lucre, she’s enough in all con- science.” “ As to all that,” said Mr, Hobson, “ it makes no al- teration in my argument ; I am speaking to the purpose, and not for the matter of complaisance : and therefore I’m bold to say, Mr. Harrel’s action had nothing of the gentle- man in it. A man has a right to his own life, you’ll tell me; but what of that? that’s no argument at all, for it does not give him a bit the more right to my property ; and CECILIA. 421 a man’s running in debt, and spending other people’s sub- stances, for no reason in the world but just because he can blow out his own brains when he’s done, — though it’s a thing neither lawful nor religious to do, — why it’s acting quite cut of character, and a great hardship to trade into the bargain,” “ I heartily wish it had been otherwise,” said Cecilia, “ but I still hope, if any thing can be done for Mrs. Bar- rel,' you will not object to such a proposal.” “ Ma am, as I said before,” returned Mr, Hobson, “ I see you're a lady of sense, and for that I honour you ; but as to any thing being done; it's what I call a distinct thing. What’s mine is mine, and what’s another man’s is his ; that’s my way of arguing ! but then if he takes what's mine, where’s the law to hinder my taking what’s his ? This is what I call talking to the purpose. Now as to a man's cutting his throat, or the like of that, for blowing out his own brains may be called the seif-same thing, what are his creditors the better for that? nothing at all, but so much the worse ; it’s a false notion to respect it, for there’s no respect in it ; its contrary to law, and a prejudice against religion.” “ I agree entirely in your opinion,” said Cecilia, “ but still Mrs. Barrel ” “ I know your argument, ma am,” interrupted Mr. Hobson ; “ Mrs. Barrel i’n’t the worse for her husband’s being shot through the head, because she was no accessory to the same, and for that reason, it’s a hardship she should lose all her substance ; this, ma’am, is what I say, speaking to your side of the argument. But now, ma am, please to take notice what I argue upon the reply ; what have we creditors to do with a man's family ? Suppose I am a cabinet-maker ? When I send in my chairs, do 1 ask who is to sit upon them ? Jslo ; it’s all one to me whether it's the gentleman’s progeny or his friends ; I must be paid for the chairs the same, use them who may. That’s the law, ma’am, and no man need be ashamed to abide by it. The truth of this speech palliating its sententious absur- dity, made GeciFia give up her faint attempt to soften him ; and her chair being ready, she arose to take leave. “ Lack-a-day, ma’am,” cried Mrs. Belfield, “ I hope* 422 CECILIA. you won’t go yet, for I expect my son home soon, and I’ve a heap of things to talk, to you about besides, only Mr. Hobson having so much to say stopt my mouth. But I should take it as a great favour, ma’am, if you would come some afternoon and drink a dish of tea with me, for tla^n we should have time to say 'all our say. And I m sure, ma'am, if you would only let one of your footmen just take a run to let me know when you'd come, my son would be very proud to give you the meeting ; and the servants can t have much else to do at your house, for where there’s such a heap of ’em, they commonly think of nothing all day long but standing and gaping at one another.” “ I am going out of town to-morrow,” said Cecilia, coldly, “ and therefore cannot have the pleasure of calling upon Miss Bel field again.” She then slightly courtesied, and left the room. The gentle Henrietta, her eyes swimming in tears, fol- lowed her to her chair; but she followed her not alone, Mrs. Belfield also attended, repining very loudly at the un- lucky absence of her son : and the cringing Mr. Simkins, creeping after her and bowing, said in a low voice, “ I humbly crave pardon, ma'am, for the liberty, but I hope you won’t think as I have any share in Mr. Hobson's be- having so rude, for I must needs say, I don't think it over .genteel in no shape.” And Mr. Hobson himself, bent upon having one more sentence heard, called out, even after she was seated in her chair, “ All I say, ma'am, is this, let every man be honest ; that’s what I argue, and that’s my notion of things,” Cecilia still reached horne before Mrs. Delvile ; 'but most uneasy were her sensations, and most unquiet was her heart : the letter she had seen in the hands of Henrietta seemed to corroborate all her former suspicions, since if it came not from one infinitely dear to her, she would not have shewn such fondness for it, and if that one was not dear to her in secret, she would not have concealed it. Where then was the hope that any but Delvile could have written it ? in she could not cherish /wi?, and that Delvile was cherished most fondly, the artlessness of her character unfitted her for disguising. And why should he write to her? what was his pre* CECILIA. 423 tence ? That he loved her she could now less than ever believe, sinceJiis late conduct to herself, though. perplex- ing and inconsistent, evinced at least a partiality incompa- tible with a passion for another. What then could she in- fer, but that he had seduced her affections, ^ and ruined her peace, for the idle and cruel gratification of temporary vanity ? “ And if such,” cried she, “ is the depravity of this accomplished hypocrite, if such is the littleness of soul that a manner so noble disguises, shall he next, urged, per- haps, rather by prudence than preference, make me the object of his pursuit, and the food of his vain glory ? And shall /, warned and instructed as I am, be as easy a prey, and as wretched a dupe? No, 1 will be better satisfied with his conduct, before I venture to trust him ; and since I am richer than Henrietta, and less likely to be deserted, when won, I will be more on my guard to know why I am ad- dressed, and vindicate the rights of innocence, if I find she has been thus deluded, by forgetting his talents in his treachery, and renouncing him for ever !” Such were the reflections and surmises that dampt all the long-sought pleasure of her change of residence, and made her habitation in St. James's-square no happier than it had been dt Mr. Harrel’s ! She dined again with only Mr. and Mrs. Delvile, and did not see their son all that day ; which, in her present un- certainty what to think of him, was an absence she scarcely regretted. When the servants retired, Mr. Delvile told her, that he had that morning received two visits upon her account, both from admirers, who each pretended to having had leave to wait upon her from Mr. Harrel. He then named Sir Robert Floyer and Mr. Marriot. I believe, inde^,” said Cecilia, “ that neither of them were treated perfectly well ; to me, however, their own behaviour has by no means been strictly honourable. I have always, when referVed to, been very explicit ; and \yhat other methods they were pleased to take, I cannot wonder should fail.” I told them,” said Mr. Delvile, “ that, since you were now under my roof, I could not refuse to receiye their VOL. I. 3 1 12 42i CECILIA. proposals, especially as there would be no impropriety m your alliatice with either of them ; but 1 told them, at the same time, that I could by no means think of pressing their suit, as that was an, office which, however well it might do for Mr. Harrel, 'would be totally improper and unbe- coming for me." “ Certainly said Cecilia, “and permit me, sir, to entreat that, should they again apply to you, they may be wholly discouraged from repeating their ^^isits, and assured, that far from having trifled with them hitherto, the resolutions I have declared will never be varied." ^ “ I am happy,” said Mrs. Delvile, to see ,so much spirit and discernment, wher^ arts of afl sorts will be prac- tised to ensnare and delude. Fortune and independence were never so securely lodged as in Mhs Beverley i and I doubt not but her choice, whenever it is decided, will re- flect as much honour upon her heart, as her difficulty in making it does upon her understanding." Mr. Delvile then enquired, whether she had fixed upon any person to chuse as a guardian in the place of M!r. Har- rel. No, she .said, nor should she, unless it were absolute- ly necessary. “ I believe, indeed," said Mrs, I)elvile; “ your affairs will not much tliiss him ! Since I have heard of the ex- cess of his extra vagancCj I have extremefy. rejoiced, in the uncommon prudence and sagacity of his fair ward, who, in such dangerous hands, with less penetration and sound sense, might have been drawn into a thousand difficulties, and perhaps defrauded of half her fortune," Cecilia received but little joy from this most unseason- able compliment, which, with many of the same sort that were frequently, though accidentally made, intimidated hex from the confession she had planned : and finding nothing but censure was likely to follow the discovery, she at length determined to give it up wholly, unless any con*- nection should take place which might render necessar y iis. aVowal. Yet something she could not but murmur, that an action so detrimental to her own interest,, andswhidi; at the time, appeared indispensable to her benevolence, should now be considered as a mark of such fScrlly and im* prudencei that she did not dare own it. CECILIA. ^25 CHAPTER IX. A RAILING, THE next morning the family purposed* setting off as soon as breakfast was over : young Delvile, however, waited not so long ; the fineness of the weather tempted him, he said, to travel on horseback, and therefore he had risen very early, and was already gone. Cecilia could not but wonder, ytt did not repine. Just as breakfast was over, and Mr. and Mrs. Delvile,, and Cecilia, \yei;f preparing to depart j to their little sur- prise, the door was opened, and, out of breath with haste and with heat, in stumpt Mr. Briggs ! “ So,” cried he to Cecilia, “ what’s all this ? hay? — where are you going ?— a coach at the door ! — horses to every wheel ! servants fine as lords ! what's in the wind now ? think to chouse me out of my belongings ?” “ I thought, sir,’^ said Cecilia, who instantly under- stood him, though Mr. and Mrs. Delvile stared at him in utter astonishment, “ I had explained before I left you, that I should not return,” ‘‘Did n’t! did n’t!” answered he angrily; “ w^aited for you three days, dressed a breast o’mutton o’purpose ; got in a lobster, and two^ crabs ; all spoilt by keeping ; stink already ; weather quite muggy, forced to souse 'em in vinegar ; one expence brings on another : never begin the like agen.” “ I am very sorry, indeed,” said Cecilia, “ much dis- concerted, “ if there has . been any mistake through my neglect ; but I had hoped I was understood, and 1 have been so much occupied — ” “ Ay, ay,” interrupted he, “ fine work ! rare doings! a merry Vauxhalling, with pistols at all your noddles ! thought as much ! thought he’d tip the perch ; saw he was n’t stanch ; knew he’d go by his company, — a set of jackanapes r all blacklegs! nobody warm among *em t fellows with a month’s good living upon their backs, and not sixpence for the hangman in their pockets !” Mrs. Delvile now, with a look of arch congratulation al 3 I 2 426 CECILlA. Cecilia, as the object of this agreeable visit, finding it not likely to be immediately concluded, returned to her chair ; but Mr. Del vile, leaning sterrily upon his cane, moved not from the spot where he stood at his entrance, but surveyed him from head to foot, with the most astonishing contempt at his undaunted vulgarity “ Well I’d all your cash myself; seized that else! — run out the constable for you, nex;t, and made you blow your brains out for company. Mind what I say, never give your mind to a gold laced hat 1 many a-one wears it don’t know five farthings from two-pence. A good fnan always wears a bob-wig ; make that your rule. Ever sec Master Harrel wear such a thing ? No, I’ll warrant ! Better if he had kept his head on his own shoulders. And now, pray, how does he cut up? what has he left behind him? a /w(?^-case, I suppose, and a bit of hat won’^ go on a man's head I” Cecilia perceiving, with great confusion, that Mr. Del- vile, though evidently provoked by this intrusion, would not deign to speak, that Mr. Briggs might be regarded as belonging wholly to herself, hastily said, “ I will not, sir, as your time is precious, detain you here, but as soon as it isr in my power, I will wait upon you in th&city. ” Mr. Briggs, however, without listening to her, thought proper to continue his harangue. “ Invited me once to his house; sent me a card, half of it printed like a book! t’other half a scrawl could not read ; pretended to give a supper ; all a mere bam ; went without my dinner, and got nothing to eat ; all glass and shew ; victuals painted all manner o'colours ; lighted up like a pastry-cook on twelfth-day; wanted something solid, and got a great lump of sweetmeat ;. found it as cold as a stone, all froze in my mouth like ice ; made me jump again, and brought the tears in ray eyes; forced to spit it out ; believe it was nothing but a snow-ball, just set up for shew, and covered over with a little sugar. Pretty way to spend money! Stuffing, and piping, and hopping! never could rest till every farthing was gone ; nothing left but his own fool’s pate, and even that he could not hold together.” “ At present, sir,” said Cecilia, “ we are all going out CECILIA. 427 of town • the carriage is waiting at the door, and therefore } i “No such thing,” cried he; “ Sha’n’t go ; come, (for you myself; take you to my own house. Got every thing ready, been to broker's, bought a nice blanket, hardly a brack in it. Pick up a table soon one in my eye.” “ I am sorry you have so totally mistaken me, sir; for I am now going into the country with Mr. and Mrs. 'Del- vile.” “ Won't consent ! won’t consent ! what will you go there for ? hear of nothing but dead dukes ; as well visit an old tomb.” Here Mr. Defvile, who felt himself insulted in a man- .ner he could least support, after looking at him very dis- dainfully, turned to Cecilia, and said, “ Miss Beverley, if this person wishes for a long conference with you, I am sorry you did not appoint a more -seasonable hour for your interview.” “ Ay, ay,” cried the impenetrable Mr. Briggs ; “ want to hurry her off! see that! but 't won't do: a'n’t to be nicked ; chuse tO come in for my thirds ; won’t be gulled, shan’t have more than your share.” “ Sir!” cried Mr. Delvile, with a look meant to be nor- thing less than petrific. “ What I cried he, with an arch leer ; “ all above it, hay ? warrant your Spanish Don never thinks of such a thing! don’t believe ’em, my duck! great cry and little wool ; no more of the ready than other folk's, mere puff, and go one.” “ This is language, sir,” said Mf. Delvile, “ so utterly incomprehensible, that I presume you do not even intend it should be understood : otherwise, I should very little scruple to inform you, that no man of the name of Delvile, brooks the smallest insinuation of dishonour.” “ Don’t he? returned Mr. Briggs, with a grin ; “ why how will he help it ? will the old grandees jump out of their graves to frighten us ?” “ What old grandees, sir? to whom are you pleased to allude?” “ Why, all them old grandfathers and aunts you brag of; a set of poor souls you won’t let rest in their coffins; 42S CECtLIA. mere day and dirt I fine things to be proud of! a parcel of old. mouldy rubbish quite departed this life ! raking up bones and dust, i^obody knows for what ? .ought to be ashamed ; who cares for dead carcases ? nothing but carrion. My little Tom s worth forty of ’em.” “ I can so ill make out, Miss Beverley,” said the astonished Mr. Delvjle,''“ what ^is person is pleased to dive at, that I cannot pretend to enter into any sort of con- versation with him ; you will therefore be so good as to let me know when he has finished his discourse, and you are at leisure to set off.” And then , with a very stately air, he was quitting the room ; but was soon stopt, upon Mr. Briggs calling out, “ Ay, ay, Don Duke, poke in the old charnel houses by yourself, none of your defunct for me ! did n’t care if they were all hung in a string. Who's the better for 'em ?” “ Pray, sir,” cried Mr. Delvile, turning round, “ to whom were you pleased to address that speech?” “ To one Don Puffendorff,”replie(kMr. Briggs ; “know ever such a person, hay?” “ Don who? sir!” said Mr. Delvile, stalking nearer to him, “ I must trouble you to say that name over a'gain.” “ Suppose don’t chuse it ? how then ?” I am to blame,” said Mr. Delvile, scornfully waving his hand with a repulsive motion, “ to suffer myself to be irritated so unworthily ; and I am sorry, in my own house, to be compelled to hint, that the sooner I have it to myself, the better I shall be contented with it.” “ Ay, ay, want to get me off; want to have her to your- self ! won’t be so soon choused ; who’s the better man ? hay ? which do you think is warmest ? and all got by my- self ; obliged to never a grandee for a penny ; what do you say to that? will you cast an account with me?” Very extraordinary this !’^ cried Mr. Delvile ; “ the most extraordinary circumstance of the kind I ever, met with ! a person to enter my house in order to talk in this incomprehensible manner ! a person, too, I hardly know by sight!” “ Never mind, old Don,” cried Briggs, with a facetious nod, “ know me better another time 1”^ “ Old who, sir! — what!” CECILIA. 4 ^ “ Come to a fair reckoning,” continued Mr. Briggs ; “ suppose you were in my case, and had never a farthing but of your own getting ; where would you be then ? What would become of your fine coach and horses ? you might stump your feet off before you'd ever get into one. Where would be all this smart crockery work for your breakfast ? you might pop your head under a pump, or drink out of your own paw. What would you do for that fine jemmy tye? Where would you get a gold head to your stick ? You might dig long enough in tlkm cold vaults-, before any of your old grandfathers would pop out to give you one.” Mr. Delvile, feeling more enraged than he thought suit-- able to his dignity, restrained himself from making any fu-r- ther answer i but going up to tlie bell, rang it with great violence. And as to ringing a bell,” continued Mr. Briggs>K: “ you’d never know what it was in your life, unless could make interest to be a dust-man.” “ A dust-man!” repeated Mr. Delvile, unable to com- mand his silence longer, “ 1 protest — ” and biting his lips, he stopt short. “ Aye, love it, don't you ? suits your taste ; why not one dust as well as another? Dust in a cart good as dust of a charnel-house ; don’t smell half so bad.” , A servant now entering, Mr. Delvile called out, “ Is every thing ready ?” Yes, sir.” He then begged Mrs. Delvile to go into the coach, and telling, Cecilia to follow when at leisure, left the room. ” I will come immediately, sir,” said Cecilia ; “ Mr. Briggs, I am sorry to leave you, and much concerned you have had this trouble ; but I can detain Mr. Delvile no loQger.” And then away she ran, notwithstanding he repeatedly charged her to stay. He followed them, however, to the coach, with bitter revilings, that every body was to make more of his ward than himself, and with the most virulent complaints of his losses from the blanket, the breast of mut- ton, the crabs, and the lobster I Nothing, however, more was said to him ; Cecilia, as 430 CJICILIA. if she had not heard him, only bowed her head, and the coach driving off, they soon lost sight of him. This incident by no means rendered the journey pleasant, or Mr. Dfelyile gracious : his own dignity, that constant objects of his thoughts and his cares, had received a wound h'om this attack which he had not the sense to despise ; and the vulgarity and impudence of Mr. Briggs, which ought to have made his familiarity and boldness equally contemptible and ridiculous, served only, with a man, whose pride out-ndi his understanding, to gender them doubly mortifying and stinging. He could talk, there- fore, of nothing the whole way that they went, but the ex- treme impropriety of which the Dean of had been guilty, in exposing him to scenes and situations so much beneath his rank, by leaguing him with a person so coarse and disgraceful. They slept one night upon the road, and arrived the next day at Delvile Castle. ^ P R 3 5 / i P4 C4 IS II !/• i J333^ > ATKINSON tOOKSINDE* SALISBURY