CHAPTER iv. -- A DETECTION.
A fortnight had now elapsed in which Cecilia had had no sort ofcommunication with the Delviles, whom equally from pride and fromprudence she forbore to seek for herself, when one morning, while shewas sitting with Miss Belfield, her maid told her that young Mr Delvilewas in the drawing-room, and begged the honour of seeing her for a fewmoments.
Cecilia, though she started and changed colour with surprize at thismessage, was unconscious she did either, from the yet greater surpriseshe received by the behaviour of Miss Belfield, who hastily arising,exclaimed "Good God, Mr Delvile!--do you know Mr Delvile, madam?--doesMr Delvile visit at this house?"
"Sometimes; not often," answered Cecilia; "but why?"
"I don't know,--nothing, madam,--I only asked by accident, Ibelieve,--but it's very--it's extremely--I did not know"--and colouringviolently, she again sat down.
An apprehension the most painful now took possession of Cecilia,and absorbed in thought, she continued for some minutes silent andimmoveable.
From this state she was awakened by her maid, who asked if she chose tohave her gloves.
Cecilia, taking them from her without speaking, left the room, and notdaring to stop for enquiry or consideration, hastened down stairs; butwhen she entered the apartment where young Delvile was waiting for her,all utterance seemed denied her, and she courtsied without saying aword.
Struck with the look and uncommon manner of her entrance, he became ina moment as much disturbed as herself, pouring forth a thousandunnecessary and embarrassed apologies for his visit, and so totallyforgetting even the reason why he made it, that he had taken his leaveand was departing before he recollected it. He then turned back, forcinga laugh at his own absence of mind, and told her he had only called toacquaint her, that the commands with which she had honoured him were nowobeyed, and, he hoped, to her satisfaction.
Cecilia, who knew not she had ever given him any, waited his furtherexplanation; and he then informed her he had that very morningintroduced Mr Belfield to the Earl of Vannelt, who had already heardhim very advantageously spoken of by some gentlemen to whom he had beenknown at the University, and who was so much pleased with him upon thisfirst interview, that he meant, after a few enquiries, which could notbut turn out to his credit, to commit his eldest son to his trust inmaking the tour of Europe.
Cecilia thanked him for her share in the trouble he had taken in thistransaction; and then asked if Mrs Delvile continued well.
"Yes," answered he, with a smile half reproachful, "as well as one whohaving ever hoped your favour, can easily be after finding that hopedisappointed. But much as she has taught her son, there is one lessonshe might perhaps learn from him;--to fly, not seek, those dangerousindulgences of which the deprivation is the loss of peace!"
He then bowed, and made his exit.
This unexpected reproof, and the yet more unexpected compliment thataccompanied it, in both which more seemed meant than met the ear,encreased the perturbation into which Cecilia had already been thrown.It occurred to her that under the sanction of his mother's name, he hadtaken an opportunity of making an apology for his own conduct; yetwhy avoiding her society, if to that he alluded, should be flying adangerous indulgence, she could not understand, since he had so littlereason to fear any repulse in continuing to seek it.
Sorry, however, for the abrupt manner in which she had left MissBelfield, she lost not a moment in hastening back to her; but when shecame into the room, she found her employed in looking out of the window,her eye following some object with such earnestness of attention, thatshe perceived not her return.
Cecilia, who could not doubt the motive of her curiosity, had no greatdifficulty in forbearing to offer her any interruption. She drew herhead back in a few minutes, and casting it upwards, with her handsclasped, softly whispered, "Heaven ever shield and bless him! and O mayhe never feel such pain as I do!"
She then again looked out, but soon drawing herself in, said, in thesame soft accents, "Oh why art thou gone! sweetest and noblest of men!why might I not see thee longer, when, under heaven, there is no otherblessing I wish for!"
A sigh which at these words escaped Cecilia made her start and turntowards the door; the deepest blushes overspread the cheeks of both astheir eyes met each other, and while Miss Belfield trembled in everylimb at the discovery she had made, Cecilia herself was hardly able tostand.
A painful and most embarrassed silence succeeded, which was only brokenby Miss Belfield's bursting into tears.
Cecilia, extremely moved, forgot for a moment her own interest in whatwas passing, and tenderly approaching, embraced her with the utmostkindness; but still she spoke not, fearing to make an enquiry, fromdreading to hear any explanation.
Miss Belfield, soothed by her softness, clung about her, and hidingher face in her arms, sobbed out, "Ah madam! who ought to be unhappyif befriended by you! if I could help it, I would love nobody else inalmost the whole world. But you must let me leave you now, and to-morrowI will tell you every thing."
Cecilia, who had no wish for making any opposition, embraced her again,and suffered her quietly to depart.
Her own mind was now in a state of the utmost confusion. The rectitudeof her heart and the soundness of her judgment had hitherto guarded herboth from error and blame, and, except during her recent suspence, hadpreserved her tranquility inviolate; but her commerce with the world hadbeen small and confined, and her actions had had little reference but toherself. The case was now altered; and she was suddenly in a conjunctureof all others the most delicate, that of accidentally discovering arival in a favourite friend.
The fondness she had conceived for Miss Belfield, and the sincerity ofher intentions as well as promises to serve her, made the detection ofthis secret peculiarly cruel; she had lately felt no pleasure but in hersociety, and looked forward to much future comfort from the continuanceof her regard, and from their constantly living together; but now thiswas no longer even to be desired, since the utter annihilation of thewishes of both, by young Delvile's being disposed of to a third person,could alone render eligible their dwelling under the same roof.
Her pity, however, for Miss Belfield was almost wholly unallayed byjealousy; she harboured not any suspicion that she was loved by youngDelvile, whose aspiring spirit led her infinitely more to fear somehigher rival, than to believe he bestowed even a thought upon the poorHenrietta; but still she wished with the utmost ardour to know thelength of their acquaintance, how often they had met, when they hadconversed, what notice he had taken of her, and how so dangerous apreference had invaded her heart.
But though this curiosity was both natural and powerful, her principalconcern was the arrangement of her own conduct; the next day MissBelfield was to tell her every thing by a voluntary promise; but shedoubted if she had any right to accept such a confidence. Miss Belfield,she was sure, knew not she was interested in the tale, since she had noteven imagined that Delvile was known to her. She might hope, therefore,not only for advice but assistance, and fancy that while she reposed hersecret in the bosom of a friend, she secured herself her best officesand best wishes for ever.
Would she obtain them? no; the most romantic generosity would revoltfrom such a demand, for however precarious was her own chance with youngDelvile, Miss Belfield she was sure could not have any; neither herbirth nor education fitted her for his rank in life, and even wereboth unexceptionable, the smallness of her fortune, as Mr Monckton hadinstructed her, would be an obstacle insurmountable.
Would it not be a kind of treachery to gather from her every thing, yetaid her in nothing? to take advantage of her unsuspicious openness inorder to learn all that related to one whom she yet hoped would belongultimately to herself, and gratify an interested curiosity at theexpence of a candour not more simple than amiable? "No," cried Cecilia,"arts that I could never forgive, I never will practice; this sweet, butunhappy girl shall tell me nothing; betrayed already by the tendernessof her own heart, she shall at least suffer no fur
ther from anyduplicity in mine. If, indeed, Mr Delvile, as I suspect, is engagedelsewhere, I will make this gentle Henrietta the object of my futuresolicitude; the sympathy of our situations will not then divide butunite us, and I will take her to my bosom, hear all her sorrows, andcalm her troubled spirit by participating in her sensibility. But if, onthe contrary, this mystery ends more happily for myself, if Mr Delvilehas now no other engagement, and hereafter clears his conduct to mysatisfaction, I will not be accessory to loading her future recollectionwith the shame of a confidence she then cannot but repent, nor with aninjury to her delicacy that may wound it for ever."
She determined, therefore, carefully to avoid the subject for thepresent, since she could offer no advice for which she might not,hereafter, be suspected of selfish motives; but yet, from a real regardto the tender-hearted girl, to give all the tacit discouragement thatwas in her power, to a passion which she firmly believed would beproductive of nothing but misery.
Once, from the frankness natural to her disposition, she thought notmerely of receiving but returning her confidence; her better judgment,however, soon led her from so hazardous a plan, which could only haveexposed them both to a romantic humiliation, by which, in the end, theirmutual expectations might prove sources of mutual distrust.
When Miss Belfield, therefore, the next morning, her air unusuallytimid, and her whole face covered with blushes, made her visit, Cecilia,not seeming to notice her confusion, told her she was very sorry she wasobliged to go out herself, and contrived, under various pretences,to keep her maid in the room. Miss Belfield, supposing this to beaccidental, rejoiced in her imaginary reprieve, and soon recoveredher usual chearfulness; and Cecilia, who really meant to call upon MrsDelvile, borrowed Mrs Harrel's carriage, and set down her artless youngfriend at her new lodgings in Portland-street, before she proceededto St James's-square, talking the whole time upon matters of utterindifference.