CHAPTER vi.
A PRATING.
Cecilia was shewn into a parlour, where Mrs Belfield was very earnestlydiscoursing with Mr Hobson and Mr Simkins; and Belfield himself, to hergreat satisfaction, was already there, and reading.
"Lack a-day!" cried Mrs Belfield, "if one does not always see the peopleone's talking of! Why it was but this morning, madam, I was saying to MrHobson, I wonder, says I, a young lady of such fortunes as Miss Beverleyshould mope herself up so in the country! Don't you remember it, MrHobson?"
"Yes, madam," answered Mr Hobson, "but I think, for my part, the younglady's quite in the right to do as she's a mind; for that's what I callliving agreeable: and if I was a young lady to-morrow, with such finefortunes, and that, it's just what I should do myself: for what I sayis this: where's the joy of having a little money, and being a littlematter above the world, if one has not one's own will?"
"Ma'am," said Mr Simkins, who had scarce yet raised his head from theprofoundness of his bow upon Cecilia's entrance into the room, "if I maybe so free, may I make bold just for to offer you this chair?"
"I called, madam," said Cecilia, seizing the first moment in her powerto speak, "in order to acquaint you that your daughter, who is perfectlywell, has made a little change in her situation, which she was anxiousyou should hear from myself."
"Ha! ha! stolen a match upon you, I warrant!" cried the facetious MrHobson; "a good example for you, young lady; and if you take my advice,you won't be long before you follow it; for as to a lady, let her beworth never so much, she's a mere nobody, as one may say, till she canget herself a husband, being she knows nothing of business, and is madeto pay for every thing through the nose."
"Fie, Mr Hobson, fie!" said Mr Simkins, "to talk so slighting of theladies before their faces! what one says in a corner, is quite ofanother nature; but for to talk so rude in their company,--I thought youwould scorn to do such a thing."
"Sir, I don't want to be rude no more than yourself," said Mr Hobson,"for what I say is, rudeness is a thing that makes nobody agreeable;but I don't see because of that, why a man is not to speak his mind toa lady as well as to a gentleman, provided he does it in a complaisantfashion."
"Mr Hobson," cried Mrs Belfield, very impatiently, "you might as welllet _me_ speak, when the matter is all about my own daughter."
"I ask pardon, ma'am," said he, "I did not mean to stop you; for as tonot letting a lady speak, one might as well tell a man in business notto look at the Daily Advertiser; why, it's morally impossible!"
"But sure, madam," cried Mrs Belfield, "it's no such thing? You can'thave got her off already?"
"I would I had!" thought Cecilia; who then explained her meaning; but intalking of Mrs Harrel, avoided all mention of Mr Arnott, well foreseeingthat to hear such a man existed, and was in the same house with herdaughter, would be sufficient authority to her sanguine expectations,for depending upon a union between them, and reporting it among herfriends, his circumstance being made clear, Cecilia added, "I couldby no means have consented voluntarily to parting so soon with MissBelfield, but that my own affairs call me at present out of thekingdom." And then, addressing herself to Belfield, she enquired if hecould recommend to her a trusty foreign servant, who would be hired onlyfor the time she was to spend abroad?
While Belfield was endeavouring to recollect some such person, Mr Hobsoneagerly called out "As to going abroad, madam, to be sure you're to doas you like, for that, as I say, is the soul of every thing; but else Ican't say it's a thing I much approve; for my notion is this: here's afine fortune, got as a man may say, out of the bowels of one's mothercountry, and this fine fortune, in default of male issue, is obliged tocome to a female, the law making no proviso to the contrary. Well, thisfemale, going into a strange country, naturally takes with her thisfortune, by reason it's the main article she has to depend upon; what'sthe upshot? why she gets pilfered by a set of sharpers that never sawEngland in their lives, and that never lose sight of her till she hasnot a sous in the world. But the hardship of the thing is this:when it's all gone, the lady can come back, but will the money comeback?--No, you'll never see it again: now this is what I call being notrue patriot."
"I am quite ashamed for to hear you talk so, Mr Hobson!" cried MrSimkins, affecting to whisper; "to go for to take a person to task atthis rate, is behaving quite unbearable; it's enough to make the younglady afraid to speak before you."
"Why, Mr Simkins," answered Mr Hobson, "truth is truth, whether onespeaks it or not; and that, ma'am, I dare say, a young lady of your goodsense knows as well as myself."
"I think, madam," said Belfield, who waited their silence with greatimpatience, "that I know just such a man as you will require, and oneupon whose honesty I believe you may rely."
"That's more," said Mr Hobson, "than I would take upon me to say forany _Englishman_! where you may meet with such a _Frenchman_, I won't bebold to say."
"Why indeed," said Mr Simkins, "if I might take the liberty for to putin, though I don't mean in no shape to go to contradicting the younggentleman, but if I was to make bold to speak my private opinion uponthe head, I should be inclinable for to say, that as to putting adependance upon the French, it's a thing quite dubious how it may turnout."
"I take it as a great favour, ma'am," said Mrs Belfield, "that you havebeen so complaisant as to make me this visit to-night, for I was almostafraid you would not have done me the favour any more; for, to be sure,when you was here last, things went a little unlucky: but I had nonotion, for my part, who the old gentleman was till after he was gone,when Mr Hobson told me it was old Mr Delvile: though, sure enough, Ithought it rather upon the extraordinary order, that he should come hereinto my parlour, and make such a secret of his name, on purpose to askme questions about my own son."
"Why I think, indeed, if I may be so free," said Mr Simkins, "it wasrather petickeler of the gentleman; for, to be sure, if he was so overcurious to hear about your private concerns, the genteel thing, if I maytake the liberty for to differ, would have been for him to say, ma'am,says he, I'm come to ask the favour of you just to let me a little intoyour son's goings on; and any thing, ma'am, you should take a fancy forto ask me upon the return, why I shall be very compliable, ma'am, sayshe, to giving of you satisfaction."
"I dare say," answered Mrs Belfield, "he would not have said so much ifyou'd have gone down on your knees to ask him. Why he was upon the verypoint of being quite in a passion because I only asked him his name!though what harm that could do him, I'm sure I never could guess.However, as he was so mighty inquisitive about my son, if I had butknown who he was in time, I should have made no scruple in the world toask him if he could not have spoke a few words for him to some of thosegreat people that could have done him some good. But the thing that Ibelieve put him so out of humour, was my being so unlucky as to say,before ever I knew who he was, that I had heard he was not over andabove good-natured; for I saw he did not seem much to like it at thetime."
"If he had done the generous thing," said Mr Simkins, "it would havebeen for him to have made the proffer of his services of his ownfree-will; and it's rather surpriseable to me he should never havethought of it; for what could be so natural as for him to say, I see,ma'am, says he, you've got a very likely young gentleman here, that's alittle out of cash, says he, so I suppose, ma'am, says he, a place, or apension, or something in that shape of life, would be no bad compliment,says he."
"But no such good luck as that will come to my share," cried MrsBelfield, "I can tell you that, for every thing I want to do goes quitecontrary. Who would not have thought such a son as mine, though I say itbefore his face, could not have made his fortune long ago, living as hedid, among all the great folks, and dining at their table just like oneof themselves? yet, for all that, you see they let him go on his ownway, and think of him no more than of nobody! I'm sure they might beashamed to shew their faces, and so I should tell them at once, if Icould but get sight of them."
"I don't mean, ma'am," said Mr Simkins, "
for to be finding fault withwhat you say, for I would not be unpelite in no shape; but if I might beso free as for to differ a little bit, I must needs say I am rather forgoing to work in anotherguess sort of a manner; and if I was as you--"
"Mr Simkins," interrupted Belfield, "we will settle this matter anothertime." And then, turning to the wearied Cecilia, "The man, madam," hesaid, "whom I have done myself the honour to recommend to you, I can seeto-morrow morning; may I then tell him to wait upon you?"
"I ask pardon for just putting in," cried Mr Simkins, before Ceciliacould answer, and again bowing down to the ground, "but I only mean tosay I had no thought for to be impertinent, for as to what I was agoingto remark, is was not of no consequence in the least."
"Its a great piece of luck, ma'am," said Mrs Belfield, "that you shouldhappen to come here, of a holiday! If my son had not been at home, Ishould have been ready to cry for a week: and you might come any day theyear through but a Sunday, and not meet with him any more than if he hadnever a home to come to."
"If Mr Belfield's home-visits are so periodical," said Cecilia, "it mustbe rather less, than more, difficult to meet with him."
"Why you know, ma'am," answered Mrs Belfield, "to-day is a red-letterday, so that's the reason of it."
"A red-letter day?"
"Good lack, madam, why have not you heard that my son is turnedbook-keeper?"
Cecilia, much surprised, looked at Belfield, who, colouring very high,and apparently much provoked by his mother's loquacity, said, "Had MissBeverley not heard it even now, madam, I should probably have lost withher no credit."
"You can surely lose none, Sir," answered Cecilia, "by an employment toolittle pleasant to have been undertaken from any but the most laudablemotives."
"It is not, madam, the employment," said he, "for which I so much blushas for the person employed--for _myself_! In the beginning of the winteryou left me just engaged in another business, a business with whichI was madly delighted, and fully persuaded I should be enchantedfor ever;--now, again, in the beginning of the summer,--you find me,already, in a new occupation!"
"I am sorry," said Cecilia, "but far indeed from surprised, that youfound yourself deceived by such sanguine expectations."
"Deceived!" cried he, with energy, "I was bewitched, I was infatuated!common sense was estranged by the seduction of a chimera; myunderstanding was in a ferment from the ebullition of my imagination!But when this new way of life lost its novelty,--novelty! thatshort-liv'd, but exquisite bliss! no sooner caught than it vanishes, nosooner tasted than it is gone! which charms but to fly, and comes butto destroy what it leaves behind!--when that was lost, reason, cool,heartless reason, took its place, and teaching me to wonder at thefrenzy of my folly, brought me back to the tameness--the sadness ofreality!"
"I am sure," cried Mrs Belfield, "whatever it has brought you back to,it has brought you back to no good! it's a hard case, you must needsthink, madam, to a mother, to see a son that might do whatever he would,if he'd only set about it, contenting himself with doing nothing butscribble and scribe one day, and when he gets tired of that, thinking ofnothing better than casting up two and two!"
"Why, madam," said Mr Hobson, "what I have seen of the world is this;there's nothing methodizes a man but business. If he's never so muchupon the stilts, that's always a sure way to bring him down, by reasonhe soon finds there's nothing to be got by rhodomontading. Let every manbe his own carver; but what I say is, them gentlemen that are what onemay call geniuses, commonly think nothing of the main chance, till theyget a tap on the shoulder with a writ; and a solid lad, that knows threetimes five is fifteen, will get the better of them in the long run. Butas to arguing with gentlemen of that sort, where's the good of it? Youcan never bring them to the point, say what you will; all you can getfrom them, is a farrago of fine words, that you can't understand withouta dictionary."
"I am inclinable to think," said Mr Simkins, "that the young gentlemanis rather of opinion to like pleasure better than business; and, to besure, it's very excusable of him, because it's more agreeabler. And Imust needs say, if I may be so free, I'm partly of the young gentleman'smind, for business is a deal more trouble."
"I hope, however," said Cecilia to Belfield, "your present situation isless irksome to you?"
"Any situation, madam, must be less irksome than that which I quitted:to write by rule, to compose by necessity, to make the understanding,nature's first gift, subservient to interest, that meanest offspring ofart!--when weary, listless, spiritless, to rack the head for invention,the memory for images, and the fancy for ornament and illusion; and whenthe mind is wholly occupied by its own affections and affairs, to callforth all its faculties for foreign subjects, uninteresting discussions,or fictitious incidents!--Heavens! what a life of struggle betweenthe head and the heart! how cruel, how unnatural a war between theintellects and the feelings!"
"As to these sort of things," said Mr Hobson, "I can't say I am muchversed in them, by reason they are things I never much studied; but if Iwas to speak my notion, it is this; the best way to thrive in the worldis to get money; but how is it to be got? Why by business: for businessis to money, what fine words are to a lady, a sure road to success. NowI don't mean by this to be censorious upon the ladies, being they havenothing else to go by, for as to examining if a man knows any thing ofthe world, and that, they have nothing whereby to judge, knowing nothingof it themselves. So that when they are taken in by rogues and sharpers,the fault is all in the law, for making no proviso against their havingmoney in their own hands. Let every one be trusted according to theirheadpiece and what I say is this: a lady in them cases is much to bepitied, for she is obligated to take a man upon his own credit, which istantamount to no credit at all, being what man will speak an ill word ofhimself? you may as well expect a bad shilling to cry out don't take me!That's what I say, and that's my way of giving my vote."
Cecilia, quite tired of these interruptions, and impatient to be gone,now said to Belfield, "I should be much obliged to you, Sir, if youcould send to me the man you speak of tomorrow morning. I wished, alsoto consult you with regard to the route I ought to take. My purpose isto go to Nice, and as I am very desirous to travel expeditiously, youmay perhaps be able to instruct me what is the best method for me topursue."
"Come, Mr Hobson and Mr Simkins," cried Mrs Belfield, with a look ofmuch significance and delight, "suppose you two and I was to walk intothe next room? There's no need for us to hear all the young lady mayhave a mind to say."
"She has nothing to say, madam," cried Cecilia, "that the whole worldmay not hear. Neither is it my purpose to talk, but to listen, if MrBelfield is at leisure to favour me with his advice."
"I must always be at leisure, and always be proud, madam," Belfieldbegan, when Hobson, interrupting him, said, "I ask pardon, Sir, forintruding, but I only mean to wish the young lady good night. As tointerfering with business, that's not my way, for it's not the rightmethod, by reason--"
"We will listen to your reason, Sir," cried Belfield, "some other time;at present we will give you all credit for it unheard."
"Let every man speak his own maxim, Sir," cried Hobson; "for that's whatI call fair arguing: but as to one person's speaking, and then making ananswer for another into the bargain, why it's going to work no-how; youmay as well talk to a counter, and think because you make a noise uponit with your own hand, it gives you the reply."
"Why, Mr Hobson," cried Mrs Belfield, "I am quite ashamed of you forbeing so dull! don't you see my son has something to say to the ladythat you and I have no business to be meddling with?"
"I'm sure, ma'am, for my part," said Mr Simkins, "I'm very agreeable togoing away, for as to putting the young lady to the blush, it's what Iwould not do in no shape."
"I only mean," said Mr Hobson, when he was interrupted by Mrs Belfield,who, out of all patience, now turned him out of the room by theshoulders, and, pulling Mr Simkins after, followed herself, and shutthe door, though Cecilia, much provoked, desired she woul
d stay, anddeclared repeatedly that all her business was public.
Belfield, who had, looked ready to murder them all during this shortscene, now approached Cecilia, and with an air of mingled spirit andrespect, said, "I am much grieved, much confounded, madam, that yourears should be offended by speeches so improper to reach them; yet ifit is possible I can have the honour of being of any use to you, in me,still, I hope, you feel you may confide. I am too distant from you insituation to give you reason to apprehend I can form any sinister viewsin serving you; and, permit me to add, I am too near you in mind, everto give you the pain of bidding me remember that distance."
Cecilia then, extremely unwilling to shock a sensibility not moregenerous than jealous, determined to continue her enquiries, and, atthe same time, to prevent any further misapprehension, by revealing heractual situation.
"I am sorry, Sir," she answered, "to have occasioned this disturbance;Mrs Belfield, I find, is wholly unacquainted with the circumstance whichnow carries me abroad, or it would not have happened."
Here a little noise in the passage interrupting her, she heard MrsBelfield, though in a low voice, say, "Hush, Sir, hush! you must notcome in just now; you've caught me, I confess, rather upon the listeningorder; but to tell you the truth, I did not know what might be goingforward. However, there's no admittance now, I assure you, for my son'supon particular business with a lady, and Mr Hobson and Mr Simkins andI, have all been as good as turned out by them but just now."
Cecilia and Belfield, though they heard this speech with mutualindignation, had no time to mark or express it, as it was answeredwithout in a voice at once loud and furious, "_You_, madam, may becontent to listen here; pardon me if I am less humbly disposed!" And thedoor was abruptly opened by young Delvile!
Cecilia, who half screamed from excess of astonishment, would scarcely,even by the presence of Belfield and his mother, have been restrainedfrom flying to meet him, had his own aspect invited such a mark oftenderness; but far other was the case; when the door was open, he stoptshort with a look half petrified, his feet seeming rooted to the spotupon which they stood.
"I declare I ask pardon, ma'am," cried Mrs Belfield, "but theinterruption was no fault of mine, for the gentleman would come in;and--"
"It is no interruption, madam;" cried Belfield, "Mr Delvile does menothing but honour."
"I thank you, Sir!" said Delvile, trying to recover and come forward,but trembling violently, and speaking with the most frigid coldness.
They were then, for a few instants, all silent; Cecilia, amazed by hisarrival, still more amazed by his behaviour, feared to speak lesthe meant not, as yet, to avow his marriage, and felt a thousandapprehensions that some new calamity had hurried him home: whileBelfield was both hurt by his strangeness, and embarrassed for the sakeof Cecilia; and his mother, though wondering at them all, was kept quietby her son's looks.
Delvile then, struggling for an appearance of more ease, said, "I seemto have made a general confusion here:--pray, I beg"--
"None at all, Sir," said Belfield, and offered a chair to Cecilia.
"No, Sir," she answered, in a voice scarce audible, "I was just going."And again rang the bell.
"I fear I hurry you, madam?" cried Delvile, whose whole frame was nowshaking with uncontrollable emotion; "you are upon business--I ought tobeg your pardon--my entrance, I believe, was unseasonable."--
"Sir!" cried she, looking aghast at this speech.
"I should have been rather surprised," he added, "to have met you here,so late,--so unexpectedly,--so deeply engaged--had I not happened to seeyour servant in the street, who told me the honour I should be likely tohave by coming."
"Good God!--" exclaimed she, involuntarily; but, checking herself aswell as she could, she courtsied to Mrs Belfield, unable to speak toher, and avoiding even to look at Belfield, who respectfully hung back,she hastened out of the room: accompanied by Mrs Belfield, who againbegan the most voluble and vulgar apologies for the intrusion she hadmet with.
Delvile also, after a moment's pause, followed, saying, "Give me leave,madam, to see you to your carriage."
Cecilia then, notwithstanding Mrs Belfield still kept talking, could nolonger refrain saying, "Good heaven, what does all this mean?"
"Rather for _me_ is that question," he answered, in such agitation hecould not, though he meant it, assist her into the chaise, "for mine, Ibelieve, is the greater surprise!"
"What surprise?" cried she, "explain, I conjure you!"
"By and bye I will," he answered; "go on postilion."
"Where, Sir?"
"Where you came from, I suppose."
"What, Sir, back to Rumford?"
"Rumford!" exclaimed he, with encreasing disorder, "you came then fromSuffolk hither?--from Suffolk to this very house?"
"Good heaven!" cried Cecilia, "come into the chaise, and let me speakand hear to be understood!"
"Who is that now in it?"
"My Maid."
"Your maid?--and she waits for you thus at the door?"--
"What, what is it you mean?"
"Tell the man, madam, whither to go."
"I don't know myself--any where you please--do you order him."
"I order him!--you came not hither to receive orders from _me_!--wherewas it you had purposed to rest?"
"I don't know--I meant to go to Mrs Hill's--I have no place taken."--
"No place taken!" repeated he, in a voice faultering between passionand grief; "you purposed, then, to stay here?--I have perhaps driven youaway?"
"Here!" cried Cecilia, mingling, in her turn, indignation with surprise,"gracious heaven! what is it you mean to doubt?"
"Nothing!" cried he, with emphasis, "I never have had, I never _will_have a doubt! I will know, I will have _conviction_ for every thing!Postilion, drive to St James's-square!--to Mr Delvile's. There, madam, Iwill wait upon you."
"No! stay, postilion!" called out Cecilia, seized with terrorinexpressible; "let me get out, let me speak with you at once!"
"It cannot be; I will follow you in a few minutes--drive on, postilion!"
"No, no!--I will not go--I dare not leave you--unkind Delvile!--what isit you suspect."
"Cecilia," cried he, putting his hand upon the chaise-door, "I haveever believed you spotless as an angel! and, by heaven! I believe you sostill, in spite of appearances--in defiance of every thing!--Now then besatisfied;--I will be with you very soon. Meanwhile, take this letter,I was just going to send to you.--Postilion, drive on, or be at yourperil!"
The man waited no further orders, nor regarded the prohibition ofCecilia, who called out to him without ceasing; but he would not listento her till he got to the end of the street; he then stopt, and shebroke the seal of her letter, and read, by the light of the lamps,enough to let her know that Delvile had written it upon the road fromDover to London, to acquaint her his mother was now better, and hadtaken pity of his suspense and impatience, and insisted upon his comingprivately to England, to satisfy himself fully about Mr Monckton,communicate his marriage to his father, and give those orders towardspreparing for its being made public, which his unhappy precipitation inleaving the kingdom had prevented.
This letter, which, though written but a few hours before she receivedit, was full of tenderness, gratitude and anxiety for her happiness,instantly convinced her that his strange behaviour had been whollythe effect of a sudden impulse of jealousy; excited by so unexpectedlyfinding her in town, at the very house where his father had assuredhim she had an improper connexion, and alone, so suspiciously, withthe young man affirmed to be her favourite. He knew nothing of theejectment, nothing of any reason for her leaving Suffolk, every thinghad the semblance of no motive but to indulge a private and criminalinclination.
These thoughts, which confusedly, yet forcibly, rushed upon her mind,brought with them at once an excuse for his conduct, and an alarm forhis danger; "He must think," she cried, "I came to town only to meet MrBelfield!" then, opening the chaise-door herself, she jumpt out, and ranb
ack into Portland-street, too impatient to argue with the postilion toreturn with her, and stopt not till she came to Mrs Belfield's house.
She knocked at the door with violence; Mrs Belfield came to it herself;"Where," cried she, hastily entering as she spoke, "are the gentlemen?"
"Lack-a-day! ma'am," answered Mrs Belfield, "they are both gone out."
"Gone out?--where to?--which way?"
"I am sure I can't tell, ma'am, no more than you can; but I am sadlyafraid they'll have a quarrel before they've done."
"Oh heaven!" cried Cecilia, who now doubted not a second duel, "tell me,shew me, which way they went?"
"Why, ma'am, to let you into the secret," answered Mrs Belfield, "only Ibeg you'll take no notice of it to my son, but, seeing them so much outof sorts, I begged the favour of Mr Simkins, as Mr Hobson was gone outto his club, just to follow them, and see what they were after."
Cecilia was much rejoiced this caution had been taken, and determined towait his return. She would have sent for the chaise to follow her; butMrs Belfield kept no servant, and the maid of the house was employed inpreparing the supper.
When Mr Simkins came back, she learnt, after various interruptions fromMrs Belfield, and much delay from his own slowness and circumlocution,that he had pursued the two gentlemen to the * * coffee-house.
She hesitated not a moment in resolving to follow them: she feared thefailure of any commission, nor did she know whom to entrust withone: and the danger was too urgent for much deliberation. She begged,therefore, that Mr. Simkins would walk with her to the chaise; buthearing that the coffee-house was another way, she desired Mrs Belfieldto let the servant run and order it to Mrs Roberts, in Fetterlane, andthen eagerly requested Mr Simkins to accompany her on foot till they metwith an hackney-coach.
They then set out, Mr Simkins feeling proud and happy in being allowedto attend her, while Cecilia, glad of any protection, accepted his offerof continuing with her, even after she met with an hackney-coach.
When she arrived at the coffee-house, she ordered the coachman to desirethe master of it to come and speak with her.
He came, and she hastily called out, "Pray, are two gentlemen here?"
"Here are several gentlemen here, madam."
"Yes, yes,--but are two upon any business--any particular business--"
"Two gentlemen, madam, came about half an hour ago, and asked for a roomto themselves."
"And where are they now?--are they up stairs?--down stairs?--where arethey?"
"One of them went away in about ten minutes, and the other soon after."
Bitterly chagrined and disappointed, she knew not what step to takenext; but, after some consideration, concluded upon obeying Delvile'sown directions, and proceeding to St James's-square, where alone, now,she seemed to have any chance of meeting with him. Gladly, however, shestill consented to be accompanied by Mr Simkins, for her dread of beingalone, at so late an hour, in an hackney-coach, was invincible. WhetherDelvile himself had any authority for directing her to his father's,or whether, in the perturbation of his new--excited and agonisingsensations of jealousy, he had forgotten that any authority wasnecessary, she knew not; nor could she now interest herself in thedoubt: a second scene, such as had so lately passed with Mr Monckton,occupied all her thoughts: she knew the too great probability thatthe high spirit of Belfield would disdain making the explanation whichDelvile in his present agitation might require, and the consequence ofsuch a refusal must almost inevitably be fatal.