CHAPTER i
AN INTERRUPTION.
But here, instead of finding, as she expected, Mrs Charlton, and freshhorses in readiness, Cecilia saw neither chaise nor preparation; MrsCharlton was quietly seated in a parlour, and drinking tea with MrsMears.
Vexed and disappointed, she ordered horses immediately to the chaise,and entreated Mrs Charlton to lose no more time. But the various delayswhich had already retarded them, had made it now so late that it wasimpossible to get into London by daylight, and Mrs Charlton not havingcourage to be upon the road after dark, had settled to sleep at the inn,and purposed not to proceed till the next morning.
Half distracted at this new difficulty, Cecilia begged to speak withher alone, and then represented in the most earnest manner, the absolutenecessity there was for her being in London that night; "Every thing,"said she, "depends upon it, and the whole purpose of my journey willotherwise be lost, for Mr Delvile will else think himself extremely illused, and to make him reparation, I may be compelled to submit to almostwhatever terms he shall propose."
Mrs Charlton, kind and yielding, withstood not this entreaty, whichCecilia made with infinite pain to herself, from the reluctance she feltto pursuing her own interest and inclination in opposition to those ofher worthy old friend; but as she was now circumstanced, she consideredthe immediate prosecution of her journey as her only resource againstfirst irritating Delvile by an abrupt disappointment, and appeasinghim next by a concession which would make that disappointment end innothing.
The chaise was soon ready, and Mrs Charlton and Cecilia were rising totake leave of the company, when a man and horse galloped full speed intothe inn-yard, and in less than a minute, Morrice bounced into the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," cried he, quite out of breath with haste, "Ihave got some news for you! I've just found out who that person is thathas been watching us."
Cecilia, starting at this most unwelcome intelligence, would now haverun into the chaise without hearing him proceed; but Mrs Charlton, whoknew neither whom nor what he meant, involuntarily stopt, and Cecilia,whose arm she leant upon, was compelled to stay.
Every one else eagerly desired to know who he was.
"Why I'll tell you," said he, "how I found him out. I was thinking inmy own mind what I could possibly do to make amends for that unluckyaccident about the dog, and just then I spied the very man that had mademe drop him; so I thought at least I'd find out who he was. I rode up tohim so quick that he could not get away from me, though I saw plainly itwas the thing he meant. But still he kept himself muffled up, just ashe did before. Not so snug, thought I, my friend, I shall have you yet!It's a fine evening, Sir, says I; but he took no notice; so then I camemore to the point; Sir, says I, I think, I have had the pleasure ofseeing you, though I quite forget where. Still he made no answer; if youhave no objection, Sir, says I, I shall be glad to ride with you, forthe night's coming on, and we have neither of us a servant. But then,without a word speaking, he rode on the quicker. However, I jogged byhis side, as fast as he, and said, Pray Sir, did you know anything ofthat company you were looking at so hard just now? And at this he couldhold out no longer; he turned to me in a most fierce passion, and saidPray, Sir, don't be troublesome. And then he got off; for when I foundby his voice who he was, I let him alone."
Cecilia, who could bear to hear no more, again hastened Mrs Charlton,who now moved, on; but Morrice, stepping between them both and the door,said, "Now do pray, Miss Beverley, guess who it was."
"No indeed, I cannot," said she, in the utmost confusion, "Nor have Iany time to hear. Come, dear madam, we shall be very late indeed."
"O but I must tell you before you go;--why it was young Mr Delvile! thesame that I saw with you one night at the Pantheon, and that I used tomeet last spring at Mr Harrel's."
"Mr Delvile!" repeated every one; "very strange he should not speak."
"Pray, ma'am," continued Morrice, "is it not the same gentleman that wasat Mr Biddulph's?"
Cecilia, half dead with shame and vexation, stammered out "No, no,--Ibelieve not,--I can't tell;--I have not a moment to spare."
And then, at last, got Mrs Charlton out of the room, and into thechaise. But thither, before she could drive off, she was followed by MrGosport, who gravely came to offer his advice that she would immediatelylodge an information at the Public Office at Bow Street, that a verysuspicious looking man had been observed loitering in those parts,who appeared to harbour most dangerous designs against her person andproperty.
Cecilia was too much confounded to rally or reply, and Mr Gosportreturned to his party with his speech unanswered.
The rest of the journey was without any new casualty, for late as itwas, they escaped being robbed; but neither robbers nor new casualtieswere wanting to make it unpleasant to Cecilia; the incidents which hadalready happened sufficed for that purpose; and the consciousness ofbeing so generally betrayed, added to the delay of her recantation,prepared her for nothing but mortifications to herself, and conflictswith Delvile the most bitter and severe.
It was near ten o'clock before they arrived in Pall-Mall. The house towhich Delvile had given directions was easily found, and the servantsent forward had prepared the people of it for their reception.
In the cruellest anxiety and trepidation, Cecilia then counted everymoment till Delvile came. She planned an apology for her conduct withall the address of which she was mistress, and determined to bear hisdisappointment and indignation with firmness; yet the part she hadto act was both hard and artificial; she sighed to have it over, andrepined she must have it at all.
The instant there was a knock at the door, she flew out upon the stairsto listen; and hearing his well-known voice enquiring for the ladies whohad just taken the lodgings, she ran back to Mrs Charlton, saying, "Ah,madam, assist me I entreat! for now must I merit, or forfeit your esteemfor ever!"
"Can you pardon," cried Delvile, as he entered the room, "an intrusionwhich was not in our bond? But how could I wait till to-morrow, when Iknew you were in town to-night?"
He then made his compliments to Mrs Charlton, and, after enquiringhow she had borne her journey, turned again to Cecilia, whose uneasysensations he saw but too plainly in her countenance; "Are you angry,"cried he, anxiously, "that I have ventured to come hither to-night?"
"No," answered she, struggling with all her feelings for composure;"what we wish is easily excused; and I am glad to see you to-night,because otherwise--"
She hesitated; and Delvile, little imagining why, thanked her in thewarmest terms for her condescension. He then related how he had beentormented by Morrice, enquired why Mr Monckton had not accompanied her,and what could possibly have induced her to make her journey so late,or, with so large a party, to be walking upon the high road instead ofhastening to London.
"I wonder not," answered she, more steadily, "at your surprise, thoughI have now no time to lessen it. You have never, I find, received myletter?"
"No," cried he, much struck by her manner; "was it to forbid our meetingtill to-morrow?"
"To-morrow!" she repeated expressively, "no; it was to forbid--"
Here the door was suddenly opened, and Morrice burst into the room.
The dismay and astonishment of Delvile at sight of him could only beequalled by the confusion and consternation of Cecilia; but Morrice,perceiving neither, abruptly called out "Miss Beverley, I quite beg yourpardon for coming so late, but you must know"--then stopping short uponseeing Delvile, "Good lord," he exclaimed, "if here is not our gentlemanspy! Why, Sir, you have not spared the spur! I left you galloping offquite another way."
"However that may be Sir," cried Delvile, equally enraged at theinterruption and the observation, "you did not, I presume, wait uponMiss Beverley to talk of me?"
"No, Sir," answered he, lightly, "for I had told her all about you atthe inn. Did not I, Miss Beverley? Did not I tell you I was sure itwas Mr Delvile that was dodging us about so? Though I believe, Sir, youthought I had not found you out?"
> "And pray, young man," said Mrs Charlton, much offended by this familiarintrusion, "how did you find us out?"
"Why, ma'am, by the luckiest accident in the world! Just as I was ridinginto town, I met the returned chaise that brought you; and I knew thepostilion very well, as I go that road pretty often; so, by the merestchance in the world, I saw him by the light of the moon. And then hetold me where he had set you down."
"And pray, Sir," again asked Mrs Charlton, "what was your reason formaking the enquiry?"
"Why, ma'am, I had a little favour to ask of Miss Beverley, that made methink I would take the liberty to call."
"And was this time of night, Sir," she returned, "the only one you couldchase for that purpose?"
"Why, ma'am, I'll tell you how that was; I did not mean to have calledtill to-morrow morning; but as I was willing to know if the postilionhad given me a right direction, I knocked one soft little knock at thedoor, thinking you might be gone to bed after your journey, merely toask if it was the right house; but when the servant told me there wasa gentleman with you already, I thought there would be no harm in juststepping for a moment up stairs."
"And what, Sir," said Cecilia, whom mingled shame and vexation hadhitherto kept silent, "is your business with me?"
"Why, ma'am, I only just called to give you a direction to a mostexcellent dog-doctor, as we call him, that lives at the corner of--"
"A dog-doctor, Sir?" repeated Cecilia, "and what have I to do with anysuch direction?"
"Why you must know, ma'am, I have been in the greatest concernimaginable about that accident which happened to me with the poor littledog, and so--"
"What little dog, Sir?" cried Delvile, who now began to conclude he wasnot sober, "do you know what you are talking of?"
"Yes, Sir, for it was that very little dog you made me drop out of myarms, by which means he broke his other leg."
"I made you drop him?" cried Delvile, angrily, "I believe, Sir, you hadmuch better call some other time; it does not appear to me that you arein a proper situation for remaining here at present."
"Sir, I shall be gone in an instant," answered Morrice, "I merely wantedto beg the favour of Miss Beverley to tell that young lady that ownedthe dog, that if she will carry him to this man, I am sure he will makea cure of him."
"Come, Sir," said Delvile, convinced now of his inebriety, "if youplease we will walk away together."
"I don't mean to take you away, Sir," said Morrice, looking verysignificantly, "for I suppose you have not rode so hard to go so soon;but as to me, I'll only write the direction, and be off."
Delvile, amazed and irritated at so many following specimens of ignorantassurance, would not, in his present eagerness, have scrupled turninghim out of the house, had he not thought it imprudent, upon such anoccasion, to quarrel with him, and improper, at so late an hour, to beleft behind; he therefore only, while he was writing the direction, toldCecilia, in a low voice, that he would get rid of him and return in aninstant.
They then went together; leaving Cecilia in an agony of distresssurpassing all she had hitherto experienced. "Ah, Mrs Charlton," shecried, "what refuge have I now from ridicule, or perhaps disgrace!Mr Delvile has been detected watching me in disguise! he has beendiscovered at this late hour meeting me in private! The story will reachhis family with all the hyperbole of exaggeration;--how will his noblemother disdain me! how cruelly shall I sink before the severity of hereye!"
Mrs Charlton tried to comfort her, but the effort was vain, and shespent her time in the bitterest repining till eleven o'clock. Delvile'snot returning then added wonder to her sadness, and the impropriety ofhis returning at all so late, grew every instant more glaring.
At last, though in great disturbance, and evidently much ruffled inhis temper, he came; "I feared," he cried, "I had passed the time foradmittance, and the torture I have suffered from being detained hasalmost driven me wild. I have been in misery to see you again,--yourlooks, your manner,--the letter you talk of,--all have filled me withalarm; and though I know not what it is I have to dread, I find itimpossible to rest a moment without some explanation. Tell me, then, whyyou seem thus strange and thus depressed? Tell me what that letter wasto forbid? Tell me any thing, and every thing, but that you repent yourcondescension."
"That letter," said Cecilia, "would have explained to you all. I scarceknow how to communicate its contents; yet I hope you will hear withpatience what I acknowledge I have resolved upon only from necessity.That letter was to tell you that to-morrow we must not meet;--it was toprepare you, indeed, for our meeting, perhaps, never more!"
"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed he, starting, "what is it you mean?"
"That I have made a promise too rash to be kept; that you must pardonme if, late as it is, I retract, since I am convinced it was wrong, andmust be wretched in performing it."
Confounded and dismayed, for a moment he continued silent, and thenpassionately called out, "Who has been with you to defame me in youropinion? Who has barbarously wronged my character since I left youMonday? Mr Monckton received me coldly,--has he injured me inyour esteem? Tell, tell me but to whom I owe this change, that myvindication, if it restores not your favour, may at least make you ceaseto (missing words) that once I was honoured with some share of it!"
"It wants not to be restored," said Cecilia, with much softness, "sinceit has never been alienated. Be satisfied that I think of you as Ithought when we last parted, and generously forbear to reproach me,when I assure you I am actuated by principles which you ought not todisapprove."
"And are you then, unchanged?" cried he, more gently, "and is youresteem for me still--"
"I thought it justice to say so once," cried she, hastily interruptinghim, "but exact from me nothing more. It is too late for us now to talkany longer; to-morrow you may find my letter at Mrs Robert's, and that,short as it is, contains my resolution and its cause."
"Never," cried he vehemently, "can I quit you without knowing it! Iwould not linger till to-morrow in this suspence to be master of theuniverse!"
"I have told it you, Sir, already; whatever is clandestine carries aconsciousness of evil, and so repugnant do I find it to my dispositionand opinions, that till you give me back the promise I so unworthilymade, I must be a stranger to peace, because at war with my own actionsand myself."
"Recover, then, your peace," cried Delvile with much emotion, "for Ihere acquit you of all promise!--to fetter, to compel you, were tooinhuman to afford me any happiness. Yet hear me, dispassionately hearme, and deliberate a moment before you resolve upon my exile. Yourscruples I am not now going to combat, I grieve that they are sopowerful, but I have no new arguments with which to oppose them; all Ihave to say, is, that it is now too late for a retreat to satisfy them."
"True, Sir, and far too true! yet is it always best to do right, howevertardily; always better to repent, than to grow callous in wrong."
"Suffer not, however, your delicacy for my family to make you forgetwhat is due to yourself as well as to me; the fear of shocking you ledme just now to conceal what a greater fear now urges me to mention. Thehonour I have had in view is already known to many, and in a very shorttime there are none will be ignorant of it. That impudent young man,Morrice, had the effrontery to rally me upon my passion for you,and though I reproved him with great asperity, he followed me into acoffee-house, whither I went merely to avoid him. There I forced myselfto stay, till I saw him engaged with a news-paper, and then, throughvarious private streets and alleys, I returned hither; but judge myindignation, when the moment I knocked at the door, I perceived himagain at my side!"
"Did he, then, see you come in?"
"I angrily demanded what he meant by thus pursuing me; he verysubmissively begged my pardon, and said he had had a notion I shouldcome back, and had therefore only followed, me to see if he was right!I hesitated for an instant whether to chastise, or confide in him; butbelieving a few hours would make his impertinence immaterial, I didneither,--the door opened, and I came in."
/> He stopt; but Cecilia was too much shocked to answer him.
"Now, then," said he, "weigh your objections against the consequenceswhich must follow. It is discovered I attended you in town; it willbe presumed I had your permission for such attendance; to separate,therefore, now, will be to no purpose with respect to that delicacywhich makes you wish it. It will be food for conjecture, for enquiry,for wonder, almost while both our names are remembered, and while to meit will bring the keenest misery in the severity of my disappointment,it will cast over your own conduct a veil of mystery and obscuritywholly subversive of that unclouded openness, that fair, transparentingenuousness, by which it has hitherto been distinguished."
"Alas, then," said she, "how dreadfully have I erred, that whatever pathI now take must lead me wrong!"
"You overwhelm me with grief," cried Delvile, "by finding you thusdistressed, when I had hoped--Oh cruel Cecilia! how different to thisdid I hope to have met you!--all your doubts settled, all your fearsremoved, your mind perfectly composed, and ready, unreluctantly, toratify the promise with so much sweetness accorded me!--where now arethose hopes!--where now.--"
"Why will you not begone?" cried Cecilia, uneasily, "indeed it is toolate to stay."
"Tell me first," cried he, with great energy, "and let good Mrs Charltonspeak too,--ought not every objection to our union, however potent,to give way, without further hesitation, to the certainty that ourintending it must become public? Who that hears of our meeting inLondon, at such a season, in such circumstances, and at such hours,--"
"And why," cried Cecilia, angrily, "do you mention them, and yet stay?"
"I must speak now," answered he with quickness, "or lose foreverall that is dear to me, and add to the misery of that loss, theheart-piercing reflection of having injured her whom of all the world Imost love, most value, and most revere!"
"And how injured?" cried Cecilia, half alarmed and half displeased;"Surely I must strangely have lived to fear now the voice of calumny?"
"If any one has ever," returned he, "so lived as to dare defy it, MissBeverley is she; but though safe by the established purity of yourcharacter from calumny, there are other, and scarce less invidiousattacks, from which no one is exempt, and of which the refinement, thesensibility of your mind, will render you but the more susceptible;ridicule has shafts, and impertinence has arrows, which though againstinnocence they may be levelled in vain, have always the power ofwounding tranquility."
Struck with a truth which she could not controvert, Cecilia sigheddeeply, but spoke not.
"Mr Delvile is right," said Mrs Charlton, "and though your plan, my dearCecilia, was certainly virtuous and proper, when you set out from Bury,the purpose of your journey must now be made so public, that it will nolonger be judicious nor rational."
Delvile poured forth his warmest thanks for this friendly interposition,and then, strengthened by such an advocate, re-urged all his argumentswith redoubled hope and spirit.
Cecilia, disturbed, uncertain, comfortless, could frame her mind tono resolution; she walked about the room,deliberated,--determined,--wavered and deliberated again. Delvile thengrew more urgent, and represented so strongly the various mortificationswhich must follow so tardy a renunciation of their intentions, that,terrified and perplexed, and fearing the breach of their union wouldnow be more injurious to her than its ratification, she ceased allopposition to his arguments, and uttered no words but of solicitationthat he would leave her.
"I will," cried he, "I will begone this very moment. Tell me but firstyou will think of what I have said, and refer me not to your letter, butdeign yourself to pronounce my doom, when you have considered if it maynot be softened."
To this she tacitly consented; and elated with fresh rising hope, herecommended his cause to the patronage of Mrs Charlton, and then, takingleave of Cecilia, "I go," he said, "though I have yet a thousand thingsto propose and to supplicate, and though still in a suspense thatmy temper knows ill how to endure; but I should rather be renderedmiserable than happy, in merely overpowering your reason by entreaty. Ileave you, therefore, to your own reflections; yet remember,--and refusenot to remember with some compunction, that all chance, all possibilityof earthly happiness for me depends upon your decision."
He then tore himself away.
Cecilia, shocked at the fatigue she had occasioned her good old friend,now compelled her to go to rest, and dedicated the remaining part of thenight to uninterrupted deliberation.
It seemed once more in her power to be mistress of her destiny; but thevery liberty of choice she had so much coveted, now attained, appearedthe most heavy of calamities; since, uncertain even what she ought todo, she rather wished to be drawn than to lead, rather desired to beguided than to guide. She was to be responsible not only to the worldbut to herself for the whole of this momentous transaction, and theterror of leaving either dissatisfied, made independence burthensome,and unlimited power a grievance.
The happiness or misery which awaited her resolution were but secondaryconsiderations in the present state of her mind; her consent to aclandestine action she lamented as an eternal blot to her character, andthe undoubted publication of that consent as equally injurious toher fame. Neither retracting nor fulfilling her engagement could nowretrieve what was past, and in the bitterness of regret for the errorshe had committed she thought happiness unattainable for the remainderof her life.
In this gloomy despondence passed the night, her eyes never closed, herdetermination never formed. Morning, however, came, and upon somethingto fix was indispensable.
She now, therefore, finally employed herself in briefly, comparing thegood with the evil of giving Delvile wholly up, or becoming his forever.
In accepting him, she was exposed to all the displeasure of hisrelations, and, which affected her most, to the indignant severity ofhis mother; but not another obstacle could be found that seemed of anyweight to oppose him.
In refusing him she was liable to the derision of the world, to sneersfrom strangers, and remonstrances from her friends, to becoming a topicfor ridicule, if not for slander, and an object of curiosity if not ofcontempt.
The ills, therefore, that threatened her marriage, though mostafflicting, were least disgraceful, and those which awaited its breach,if less serious, were more mortifying.
At length, after weighing every circumstance as well as her perturbedspirits would permit, she concluded that so late to reject him mustbring misery without any alleviation, while accepting him, thoughfollowed by wrath and reproach, left some opening for future hope, andsome prospect of better days.
To fulfil, therefore, her engagement was her final resolution.
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