CHAPTER v
AN ADVENTURE.
Never had the heart of Cecilia felt so light, so gay, so glowing asafter the transaction of this affair: her life had never appeared to herso important, nor her wealth so valuable. To see five helpless childrenprovided for by herself, rescued from the extremes of penury andwretchedness, and put in a way to become useful to society, andcomfortable to themselves; to behold their feeble mother, snatchedfrom the hardship of that labour which, over-powering her strength,had almost destroyed her existence, now placed in a situation where acompetent maintenance might be earned without fatigue, and the remnantof her days pass in easy employment--to view such sights, and have powerto say "_These deeds are mine!_" what, to a disposition fraught withtenderness and benevolence, could give purer self-applause, or moreexquisite 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 upperpart of Oxford Street, she was suddenly met by the old gentleman whoseemphatical addresses to her had so much excited her astonishment.
He was passing quick on, but stopping the moment he perceived her, hesternly called out "Are you proud? are you callous? are you hard ofheart so soon?"
"Put me, if you please, to some trial!" cried Cecilia, with the virtuouscourage of a self-acquitting conscience.
"I already have!" returned he, indignantly, "and already I have foundyou faulty!"
"I am sorry to hear it," said the amazed Cecilia, "but at least I hopeyou will tell me in what?"
"You refused me admittance," he answered, "yet I was your friend, yetI was willing to prolong the term of your genuine [tranquillity]! Ipointed out to you a method of preserving peace with your own soul; Icame to you in behalf of the poor, and instructed you how to merit theirprayers; you heard me, you were susceptible, you complied! I meant tohave repeated the lesson, to have tuned your whole heart to compassion,and to have taught you the sad duties of sympathising humanity. Forthis purpose I called again, but again I was not admitted! Short wasthe period of my absence, yet long enough for the completion of yourdownfall!"
"Good heaven," cried Cecilia, "how dreadful is this language! whenhave you called, Sir? I never heard you had been at the house. Far fromrefusing you admittance, I wished to see you."
"Indeed?" cried he, with some softness, "and are you, in truth, notproud? not callous? not hard of heart? Follow me, then, and visit thehumble and the poor, follow me, and give comfort to the fallen anddejected!"
At this invitation, however desirous to do good, Cecilia started; thestrangeness of the inviter, his flightiness, his authoritative manner,and the uncertainty whither or to whom he might carry her, made herfearful of proceeding: yet a benevolent curiosity to see as well asserve the objects of his recommendation, joined to the eagerness ofyouthful integrity to clear her own character from the aspersion ofhard-heartedness, soon conquered her irresolution, and making a sign toher servant to keep near her, she followed as her conductor led.
He went on silently and solemnly till he came to Swallow-street, thenturning into it, he stopt at a small and mean-looking house, knockedat the door, and without asking any question of the man who opened it,beckoned her to come after him, and hastened up some narrow windingstairs.
Cecilia again hesitated; but when she recollected that this old man,though little known, was frequently seen, and though with few peopleacquainted, was by many personally recognized, she thought it impossiblehe could mean her any injury. She ordered her servant, however, to comein, and bid him keep walking up and down the stairs till she returned tohim. And then she obeyed the directions of her guide.
He proceeded till he came to the second floor, then, again beckoningher to follow him, he opened a door, and entered a small and very meanlyfurnished apartment.
And here, to her infinite astonishment, she perceived, employed inwashing some china, a very lovely young woman, [genteelly] dressed, andappearing hardly seventeen years of age.
The moment they came in, with evident marks of confusion, she instantlygave over her work, hastily putting the basin she was washing upon thetable, and endeavouring to hide the towel with which she was wiping itbehind her chair.
The old gentleman, advancing to her with quickness, said, "How is henow? Is he better? will he live?"
"Heaven forbid he should not!" answered the young woman with emotion,"but, indeed, he is no better!"
"Look here," said he, pointing to Cecilia, "I have brought you one whohas power to serve you, and to relieve your distress: one who is rollingin affluence, a stranger to ill, a novice in the world; unskilled in themiseries she is yet to endure, unconscious of the depravity into whichshe is to sink! receive her benefactions while yet she is untainted,satisfied that while, she aids you, she is blessing herself!"
The young woman, blushing and abashed, said, "You are very good tome, Sir, but there is no occasion--there is no need--I have not anynecessity--I am far from being so very much in want--"
"Poor, simple soul!" interrupted the old man, "and art thou ashamed ofpoverty? Guard, guard thyself from other shames, and the wealthiest mayenvy thee! Tell her thy story, plainly, roundly, truly; abate nothingof thy indigence, repress nothing of her liberality. The Poor notimpoverished by their own Guilt, are Equals of the Affluent, notenriched by their own Virtue. Come, then, and let me present ye toeach other! young as ye both are, with many years and many sorrowsto encounter, lighten the burthen of each other's cares, by theheart-soothing exchange of gratitude for beneficence!"
He then took a hand of each, and joining them between his own, "_You_,"he continued, "who, though rich, are not hardened, and you, who thoughpoor, are not debased, why should ye not love, why should ye notcherish each other? The afflictions of life are tedious, its joys areevanescent; ye are now both young, and, with little to enjoy, willfind much to suffer. Ye are both, too, I believe, innocent--Oh couldye always remain so!--Cherubs were ye then, and the sons of men mightworship you!"
He stopt, checked by his own rising emotion; but soon resuming hisusual austerity, "Such, however," he continued, "is not the condition ofhumanity; in pity, therefore, to the evils impending over both, be kindto each other! I leave you together, and to your mutual tenderness Irecommend you!"
Then, turning particularly to Cecilia, "Disdain not," he said, "toconsole the depressed; look upon her without scorn, converse with herwithout contempt: like you, she is an orphan, though not like you, anheiress;--like her, you are fatherless, though not like her friendless!If she is awaited by the temptations of adversity, you, also, aresurrounded by the corruptions of prosperity. Your fall is most probable,her's most excusable;--commiserate _her_ therefore now,--by and by shemay commiserate _you_?"
And with these words he left the room.
A total silence for some time succeeded his departure: Cecilia found itdifficult to recover from the surprise into which she had been thrownsufficiently for speech: in following her extraordinary director,her imagination had painted to her a scene such as she had so latelyquitted, and prepared her to behold some family in distress, somehelpless creature in sickness, or some children in want; but of theseto see none, to meet but one person, and that one fair, young, anddelicate,--an introduction so singular to an object so unthought of,deprived her of all power but that of shewing her amazement.
Mean while the young woman looked scarcely less surprised, andinfinitely more embarrassed. She surveyed her apartment with vexation,and her guest with confusion; she had listened to the exhortation of theold man with visible uneasiness, and now he was gone, seemed overwhelmedwith shame and chagrin.
Cecilia, who in observing these emotions felt both her curiosity and hercompassion encrease, pressed her hand as she parted with it, and, whena little recovered, said, "You must think this a strange intrusion; butthe gentleman who brought me hither is perhaps so well known to you, asto make his singularities plead with you their own apology."
"No indeed, madam," she answered, bashfully, "he
is very little knownto me; but he is very good, and very desirous to do me service:--notbut 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 atall--hardly."
The various doubts to her disadvantage, which had at first, from heruncommon situation, arisen in the mind of Cecilia, this anxiety todisguise, not display her distress, considerably removed, since itcleared her of all suspicion of seeking by artifice and imposition toplay upon her feelings.
With a gentleness, therefore, the most soothing, she replied, "I shouldby no means have broken in upon you thus unexpectedly, if I had notconcluded my conductor had some right to bring me. However, since we areactually met, let us remember his injunctions, and endeavour not to parttill, by a mutual exchange of good-will, each has added a friend to theother."
"You are condescending, indeed, madam," answered the young woman, withan air the most humble, "looking as you look, to talk of a friend whenyou come to such a place as this! up two pair of stairs! no furniture!no servant! every thing in such disorder!--indeed I wonder at Mr.Albany! he should not--but he thinks every body's affairs may be madepublic, and does not care what he tells, nor who hears him;--he knowsnot the pain he gives, nor the mischief he may do."
"I am very much concerned," cried Cecilia, more and more surprised atall she heard, "to find I have been thus instrumental to distressingyou. I was ignorant whither I was coming, and followed him, believe me,neither from curiosity nor inclination, but simply because I knew nothow to refuse him. He is gone, however, and I will therefore relieve youby going too: but permit me to leave behind me a small testimony thatthe intention of my coming was not mere impertinence."
She then took out her purse; but the young woman, starting back with alook of resentful mortification, exclaimed, "No, madam! you arequite mistaken; pray put up your purse; I am no beggar! Mr Albany hasmisrepresented me, if he has told you I am."
Cecilia, mortified in her turn at this unexpected rejection of an offershe had thought herself invited to make, stood some moments silent; andthen said, "I am far from meaning to offend you, and I sincerely begyour 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 heminds not what I say! he is very good, but he is very strange, for hethinks the whole world made to live in common, and that every one who ispoor should ask, and every one who is rich should give: he does not knowthat 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 thoseto whom I belong have more fortitude and higher spirit. I wish I couldimitate them!"
Struck with the candour and simplicity of this speech, Cecilia now felta warm desire to serve her, and taking her hand, said, "Forgive me, butthough I 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 refusemy assistance one way, point out to me in what other I may offer it."
"You are very kind, madam," she answered, "and I dare say you are verygood; I am sure you look so, at least. But I want nothing; I do verywell, and I have hopes of doing better. Mr Albany is too impatient. Heknows, indeed, that I am not extremely rich, but he is much to blame ifhe supposes me therefore an object of charity, and thinks me so mean asto receive money from a stranger."
"I am truly sorry," cried Cecilia, "for the error I have committed, butyou must suffer me to make my peace with you before we part: yet, tillI am better known to you, I am fearful of proposing terms. Perhaps youwill permit me to leave you my direction, and do me the favour to callupon me yourself?"
"O no, madam! I have a sick relation whom I cannot leave: and indeed, ifhe were well, he would not like to have me make an acquaintance while Iam in this place."
"I hope you are not his only nurse? I am sure you do not look able tobear such fatigue. Has he a physician? 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 beassisted? Surely you should accept some help for him, if not foryourself."
"But what will that signify when, if I do, he will not make use of it?and when he had a thousand and a thousand times rather die, than let anyone know he is in want?"
"Take it, then, unknown to him; serve him without acquainting him youserve 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 heunder mine!"
"Is he your father?--Pardon my question, but your youth seems much towant such a protector."
"No, madam, I have no father! I was happier when I had! He is mybrother."
"And what is his illness?"
"A fever."
"A fever, and without a physician! Are you sure, too, it is notinfectious?"
"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, "praytrust me; indeed you shall not repent your confidence. Your reservehitherto has only raised you in my esteem, but do not carry it so far asto mortify me by a total rejection of my good offices."
"Ah madam!" said the young woman, sighing, "you ought to be good, Iam sure, for you will draw all out of me by such kindness as this! theoccasion was a neglected wound, never properly healed."
"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 I must not tell you! his name is a great secret now, while he isin this poor place, for I know he had almost rather never see the lightagain than have it known."
"Surely, surely," cried Cecilia, with much emotion, "he cannot--I hopehe cannot be Mr Belfield?"
"Ah Heaven!" cried the young woman, screaming, "do you then know him?"
Here, in mutual astonishment, they looked at each other.
"You are then," said Cecilia, "the sister of Mr Belfield? And MrBelfield is thus sick, his wound is not yet healed,--and he is withoutany help!"
"And who, madam, are _you_?" cried she, "and how is it you know him?"
"My name is Beverley."
"Ah!" exclaimed she again, "I fear I have done nothing but mischief! Iknow very well who you are now, madam, but if my brother discovers thatI have betrayed him, he will take it very unkind, and perhaps neverforgive 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 attend him, and why doeshe not still visit him?"
"It is in vain, now, to hide any thing from you; my brother deceivedhim, 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, I hope, will never know, Poverty!--he wouldnot run up a bill he could not pay."
"Good Heaven!--But what can be done for him? He must not be sufferedto linger thus; we must contrive some method of relieving and assistinghim, whether he will consent or not."
"I fear that will not be possible. One of his friends has already foundhim out, and has written him the kindest letter! but he would not answerit, and would not see him, and was only fretted and angry."
"Well," said Cecilia, "I will not keep you longer, lest he should bealarmed by your absence. To-morrow morning, with your leave, I will callupon you again, and then, I hope, you will permit me to make some effortto assist you."
"If it only depended upon me, madam," she answered, "now I have thehonour to know who you are, I believe I should not make much scruple,for I was not brought up to notions so high as my brother. Ah! happyhad it been
for him, for me, for all his family, if he had not had themneither!"
Cecilia then repeated her expressions of comfort and kindness, and tookher leave.
This little adventure gave her infinite concern; all the horror whichthe duel had originally occasioned her, again returned; she accusedherself with much bitterness for having brought it on; and findingthat Mr Belfield was so cruelly a sufferer both in his health and hisaffairs, she thought it incumbent upon her to relieve him to the utmostof her ability.
His sister, too, had extremely interested her; her youth, and theuncommon artlessness of her conversation, added to her melancholysituation, and the loveliness of her person, excited in her a desire toserve, and an inclination to love her; and she determined, if she foundher as deserving as she seemed engaging, not only to assist her atpresent, but, if her distresses continued, to received her into her ownhouse in future.
Again she regretted the undue detention of her L200. What she now had tospare was extremely inadequate to what she now wished to bestow, andshe looked forward to the conclusion of her minority with encreasingeagerness. The generous and elegant plan of life she then intendedto pursue, daily gained ground in her imagination, and credit in heropinion.