CHAPTER iv.
A PERTURBATION.
Cecelia was still in this tempestuous state, when a message was broughther that a gentleman was below stairs, who begged to have the honour ofseeing her. She concluded he was Delvile, and the thought of meeting himmerely to communicate what must so bitterly afflict him, redoubled herdistress, and she went down in an agony of perturbation and sorrow.
He met her at the door, where, before he could speak, "Mr Delvile,"she cried, in a hurrying manner, "why will you come? Why will you thusinsist upon seeing me, in defiance of every obstacle, and in contempt ofmy prohibition?"
"Good heavens," cried he, amazed, "whence this reproach? Did you notpermit me to wait upon you with the result of my enquiries? Had Inot your consent--but why do you look thus disturbed?--Your eyes arered,--you have been weeping.--Oh my Cecilia! have I any share in yoursorrow?--Those tears, which never flow weakly, tell me, have they--has_one_ of them been shed upon my account?"
"And what," cried she, "has been the result of your enquiries?--Speakquick, for I wish to know,--and in another instant I must be gone."
"How strange," cried the astonished Delvile, "is this language! howstrange are these looks! What new has come to pass? Has any freshcalamity happened? Is there yet some evil which I do not expect?"
"Why will you not answer first?" cried she; "when _I_ have spoken, youwill perhaps be less willing."
"You terrify, you shock, you amaze me! What dreadful blow awaits me? Forwhat horror are you preparing me?--That which I have just experienced,and which tore you from me even at the foot of the altar, still remainsinexplicable, still continues to be involved in darkness and mystery;for the wretch who separated us I have never been able to discover."
"Have you procured, then, no intelligence?"
"No, none; though since we parted I have never rested a moment."
"Make, then, no further enquiry, for now all explanation would beuseless. That we _were_ parted, we know, though _why_ we cannot tell:but that again we shall ever meet---"
She, stopt; her streaming eyes cast upwards, and a deep sigh burstingfrom her heart.
"Oh what," cried Delvile, endeavouring to take her hand, which shehastily withdrew from him, "what does this mean? loveliest, dearestCecilia, my betrothed, my affianced wife! why flow those tears whichagony only can wring from you? Why refuse me that hand which so latelywas the pledge of your faith? Am I not the same Delvile to whom so fewdays since you gave it? Why will you not open to him your heart? Whythus distrust his honour, and repulse his tenderness? Oh why, giving himsuch exquisite misery, refuse him the smallest consolation?"
"What consolation," cried the weeping Cecilia, "can I give? Alas! it isnot, perhaps, _you_ who most want it!--"
Here the door was opened by one of the Miss Charltons, who came intothe room with a message from her grandmother, requesting to see Cecilia.Cecilia, ashamed of being thus surprised with Delvile, and in tears,waited not either to make any excuse to him, or any answer to MissCharlton, but instantly hurried out of the room;--not, however, toher old friend, whom now less than ever she could meet, but to her ownapartment, where a very short indulgence of grief was succeeded by theseverest examination of her own conduct.
A retrospection of this sort rarely brings much subject of exultation,when made with the rigid sincerity of secret impartiality: so muchstronger is our reason than our virtue, so much higher our sense of dutythan our performance!
All she had done she now repented, all she had said she disapproved; herconduct, seldom equal to her notions of right, was now infinitely belowthem, and the reproaches of her judgment made her forget for a while theafflictions which had misled it.
The sorrow to which she had openly given way in the presence of Delvile,though their total separation but the moment before had been finallydecreed, she considered as a weak effusion of tenderness, injurious todelicacy, and censurable by propriety. "His power over my heart," criedshe, "it were now, indeed, too late to conceal, but his power over myunderstanding it is time to cancel. I am not to be his,--my own voicehas ratified the renunciation, and since I made it to his mother, itmust never, without her consent, be invalidated. Honour, therefore, toher, and regard for myself, equally command me to fly him, till I ceaseto be thus affected by his sight."
When Delvile, therefore, sent up an entreaty that he might be againadmitted into her presence, she returned for answer that she was notwell, and could not see any body.
He then left the house, and, in a few minutes, she received thefollowing note from him.
_To Miss Beverley_. You drive me from you, Cecilia, tortured withsuspense, and distracted with apprehension, you drive me from you,certain of my misery, yet leaving me to bear it as I may! I would callyou unfeeling, but that I saw you were unhappy; I would reproach youwith tyranny, but that your eyes when you quitted me were swollen withweeping! I go, therefore, I obey the harsh mandate, since my absence isyour desire, and I will shut myself up at Biddulph's till I receiveyour commands. Yet disdain not to reflect that every instant will seemendless, while Cecilia must appear to me unjust, or wound my very soulby the recollection of her in sorrow. MORTIMER DELVILE.
The mixture of fondness and resentment with which this letter wasdictated, marked so strongly the sufferings and disordered state of thewriter, that all the softness of Cecilia returned when she perused it,and left her not a wish but to lessen his inquietude, by assurancesof unalterable regard: yet she determined not to trust herself in hissight, certain they could only meet to grieve over each other, andconscious that a participation of sorrow would but prove a reciprocationof tenderness. Calling, therefore, upon her duty to resist herinclination, she resolved to commit the whole affair to the will of MrsDelvile, to whom, though under no promise, she now considered herselfresponsible. Desirous, however, to shorten the period of Delvile'suncertainty, she would not wait till the time she had appointed to seehis mother, but wrote the following note to hasten their meeting.
_To the Hon. Mrs Delvile_. MADAM,--Your son is now at Bury; shall Iacquaint him of your arrival? or will you announce it yourself? Informme of your desire, and I will endeavour to fulfil it. As my own AgentI regard myself no longer; if, as yours, I can give pleasure, or be ofservice, I shall gladly receive your commands. I have the honour to be,Madam, your most obedient servant, CECILIA BEVERLEY.
When she had sent off this letter, her heart was more at ease, becausereconciled with her conscience: she had sacrificed the son, she hadresigned herself to the mother; it now only remained to heal her woundedpride, by suffering the sacrifice with dignity, and to recover hertranquility in virtue, by making the resignation without repining.
Her reflections, too, growing clearer as the mist of passion wasdispersed, she recollected with confusion her cold and sullen behaviourto Mrs Delvile. That lady had but done what she had believed was herduty, and that duty was no more than she had been taught to expect fromher. In the beginning of her visit, and while doubtful of its success,she had indeed, been austere, but the moment victory appeared in view,she became tender, affectionate and gentle. Her justice, therefore,condemned the resentment to which she had given way, and she fortifiedher mind for the interview which was to follow, by an earnest desire tomake all reparation both to Mrs Delvile and herself for that which waspast.
In this resolution she was not a little strengthened, by seriouslyconsidering with herself the great abatement to all her possiblehappiness, which must have been made by the humiliating circumstanceof forcing herself into a family which held all connection with her asdisgraceful. She desired not to be the wife even of Delvile upon suchterms, for the more she esteemed and admired him, the more anxious shebecame for his honour, and the less could she endure being regardedherself as the occasion of its diminution.
Now, therefore, her plan of conduct settled, with calmer spirits, thougha heavy heart, she attended upon Mrs Charlton; but fearing to lose thesteadiness she had just acquired before it should be called upon, if shetrusted herself to relate
the decision which had been made, she besoughther for the present to dispense with the account, and then forcedherself into conversation upon less interesting subjects.
This prudence had its proper effect, and with tolerable tranquility sheheard Mrs Delvile again announced, and waited upon her in the parlourwith an air of composure.
Not so did Mrs Delvile receive her; she was all eagerness and emotion;she flew to her the moment she appeared, and throwing her arms aroundher, warmly exclaimed "Oh charming girl! Saver of our family! preserverof our honour! How poor are words to express my admiration! howinadequate are thanks in return for such obligations as I owe you!"
"You owe me none, madam," said Cecilia, suppressing a sigh; "on my sidewill be all the obligation, if you can pardon the petulance of mybehaviour this morning."
"Call not by so harsh a name," answered Mrs Delvile, "the keenness of asensibility by which you have yourself alone been the sufferer. Youhave had a trial the most severe, and however able to sustain, it wasimpossible you should not feel it. That you should give up any man whosefriends solicit not your alliance, your mind is too delicate to makewonderful; but your generosity in submitting, unasked, the arrangementof that resignation to those for whose interest it is made, and yourhigh sense of honour in holding yourself accountable to me, though underno tie, and bound by no promise, mark a greatness of mind which callsfor reverence rather than thanks, and which I never can praise half somuch as I admire."
Cecilia, who received this applause but as a confirmation of herrejection, thanked her only by courtsying; and Mrs Delvile, havingseated herself next her, continued her speech.
"My son, you have the goodness to tell me, is here,--have you seen him?"
"Yes, madam," answered she, blushing, "but hardly for a moment."
"And he knows not of my arrival?" No,--I believe he certainly does not."
"Sad then, is the trial which awaits him, and heavy for me the office Imust perform! Do you expect to see him again?"
"No,--yes,--perhaps--indeed I hardly--" She stammered, and Mrs Delvile,taking her hand, said "Tell me, Miss Beverley, _why_ should you see himagain?"
Cecilia was thunderstruck by this question, and, colouring yet moredeeply, looked down, but could not answer.
"Consider," continued Mrs Delvile, "the _purpose_ of any furthermeeting; your union is impossible, you have nobly consented torelinquish all thoughts of it why then tear your own heart, and torturehis, by an intercourse which seems nothing but an ill-judged invitationto fruitless and unavailing sorrow?"
Cecilia was still silent; the truth of the expostulation her reasonacknowledged, but to assent to its consequence her whole heart refused.
"The ungenerous triumph of little female vanity," said Mrs Delvile, "isfar, I am sure, from your mind, of which the enlargement and liberalitywill rather find consolation from lessening than from embitteringhis sufferings. Speak to me, then, and tell me honestly, judiciously,candidly tell me, will it not be wiser and more right, to avoid ratherthan seek an object which can only give birth to regret? an interviewwhich can excite no sensations but of misery and sadness?" Cecilia thenturned pale, she endeavoured to speak, but could not; she wished tocomply,--yet to think she had seen him for the last time, to rememberhow abruptly she had parted from him, and to fear she had treated himunkindly;--these were obstacles which opposed her concurrence, thoughboth judgment and propriety demanded it.
"Can you, then," said Mrs Delvile, after a pause, "can you wish to seeMortimer merely to behold his grief? Can you desire he should see you,only to sharpen his affliction at your loss?"
"O no!" cried Cecilia, to whom this reproof restored speech andresolution, "I am not so despicable, I am not, I hope, so unworthy!--Iwill--be ruled by you wholly; I will commit to you every thing;--yet_once_, perhaps,--no more!"--
"Ah, my dear Miss Beverley! to meet confessedly for _once_,--what werethat but planting a dagger in the heart of Mortimer? What were it butinfusing poison into your own?
"If you think so, madam," said she, "I had better--I will certainly--"she sighed, stammered, and stopt.
"Hear me," cried Mrs Delvile, "and rather let me try to convince thanpersuade you. Were there any possibility, by argument, by reflection, oreven by accident, to remove the obstacles to our connection, then wouldit be well to meet, for then might discussion turn to account, and aninterchange of sentiments be productive of some happy expedients: buthere--"
She hesitated, and Cecilia, shocked and ashamed, turned away her face,and cried "I know, madam, what you would say,--here all is over! andtherefore--"
"Yet suffer me," interrupted she, "to be explicit, since we speak upon,this matter now for the last time. Here, then, I say, where not ONEdoubt remains, where ALL is finally, though not happily decided, whatcan an interview produce? Mischief of every sort, pain, horror, andrepining! To Mortimer you may think it would be kind, and grant it tohis prayers, as an alleviation of his misery; mistaken notion! nothingcould so greatly augment it. All his passions would be raised, all hisprudence would be extinguished, his soul would be torn with resentmentand regret, and force, only, would part him from you, when previously heknew that parting was to be eternal. To yourself--"
"Talk not, madam, of me," cried the unhappy Cecilia, "what you say ofyour son is sufficient, and I will yield---"
"Yet hear me," proceeded she, "and believe me not so unjust as toconsider him alone; you, also, would be an equal, though a less stormysufferer. You fancy, at this moment, that once more to meet him wouldsoothe your uneasiness, and that to take of him a farewell, would softenthe pain of the separation: how false such reasoning! how dangerous suchconsolation! acquainted ere you meet that you were to meet him no more,your heart would be all softness and grief, and at the very moment whentenderness should be banished from your intercourse, it would bear downall opposition of judgment, spirit, and dignity: you would hang uponevery word, because every word would seem the last, every look, everyexpression would be rivetted in your memory, and his image in thisparting distress would-be painted upon your mind, in colours that wouldeat into its peace, and perhaps never be erased."
"Enough, enough," said Cecilia, "I will not see him,--I will not evendesire it!"
"Is this compliance or conviction? Is what I have said true, or onlyterrifying?"
"Both, both! I believe, indeed, the conflict would have overpoweredme,--I see you are right,--and I thank you, madam, for saving me from ascene I might so cruelly have rued."
"Oh Daughter of my mind!" cried Mrs Delvile, rising and embracing her,"noble, generous, yet gentle Cecilia! what tie, what connection, couldmake you more dear to me? Who is there like you? Who half so excellent?So open to reason, so ingenuous in error! so rational! so just! sofeeling, yet so wise!"
"You are very good," said Cecilia, with a forced serenity, "and I amthankful that your resentment for the past obstructs not your lenity forthe present."
"Alas, my love, how shall I resent the past, when I ought myself to haveforeseen this calamity! and I _should_ have foreseen it, had I not beeninformed you were engaged, and upon your engagement built our security.Else had I been more alarmed, for my own admiration would have bid melook forward to my son's. You were just, indeed, the woman he had leastchance to resist, you were precisely the character to seize his verysoul. To a softness the most fatally alluring, you join a dignity whichrescues from their own contempt even the most humble of your admirers.You seem born to have all the world wish your exaltation, and no partof it murmur at your superiority. Were any obstacle but this insuperableone in the way, should nobles, nay, should princes offer their daughtersto my election, I would reject without murmuring the most magnificentproposals, and take in triumph to my heart my son's nobler choice!"
"Oh madam," cried Cecilia, "talk not to me thus!--speak not suchflattering words!--ah, rather scorn and upbraid me, tell me youdespise my character, my family and my connections,--load, load me withcontempt, but do not thus torture me with approbation!"
"Pardon me, s
weetest girl, if I have awakened those emotions you sowisely seek to subdue. May my son but emulate your example, and my pridein his virtue shall be the solace of my affliction for his misfortunes."
She then tenderly embraced her, and abruptly took her leave.
Cecilia had now acted her part, and acted it to her own satisfaction;but the curtain dropt when Mrs Delvile left the house, nature resumedher rights, and the sorrow of her heart was no longer disguised orrepressed. Some faint ray of hope had till now broke through thegloomiest cloud of her misery, and secretly flattered her that itsdispersion was possible, though distant: but that ray was extinct, thathope was no more; she had solemnly promised to banish Delvile her sight,and his mother had absolutely declared that even the subject had beendiscussed for the last time.
Mrs Charlton, impatient of some explanation of the morning'stransactions, soon sent again to beg Cecilia would come to her. Ceciliareluctantly obeyed, for she feared encreasing her indisposition by theintelligence she had to communicate; she struggled, therefore, to appearto her with tolerable calmness, and in briefly relating what had passed,forbore to mingle with the narrative her own feelings and unhappiness.
Mrs Charlton heard the account with the utmost concern; she accusedMrs Delvile of severity, and even of cruelty; she lamented the strangeaccident by which the marriage ceremony had been stopt, and regrettedthat it had not again been begun, as the only means to have renderedineffectual the present fatal interposition. But the grief of Cecilia,however violent, induced her not to join in this regret; she mournedonly the obstacle which had occasioned the separation, and not theincident which had merely interrupted the ceremony: convinced, by theconversations in which she had just been engaged, of Mrs Delvile'sinflexibility, she rather rejoiced than repined that she had put it tono nearer trial: sorrow was all she felt; for her mind was too liberalto harbour resentment against a conduct which she saw was dictated by asense of right; and too ductile and too affectionate to remain unmovedby the personal kindness which had softened the rejection, and the manymarks of esteem and regard which had shewn her it was lamented, thoughconsidered as indispensable.
How and by whom this affair had been betrayed to Mrs Delvile she knewnot; but the discovery was nothing less than surprising, since, byvarious unfortunate accidents, it was known to so many, and since, inthe horror and confusion of the mysterious prohibition to the marriage,neither Delvile nor herself had thought of even attempting to giveany caution to the witnesses of that scene, not to make it known: anattempt, however, which must almost necessarily have been unavailing, asthe incident was too extraordinary and too singular to have any chanceof suppression.
During this conversation, one of the servants came to inform Cecilia,that a man was below to enquire if there was no answer to the note hehad brought in the forenoon.
Cecilia, greatly distressed, knew not upon what to resolve; that thepatience of Delvile should be exhausted, she did not, indeed, wonder,and to relieve his anxiety was now almost her only wish; she wouldtherefore instantly have written to him, confessed her sympathy in hissufferings, and besought him to endure with fortitude an evil whichwas no longer to be withstood: but she was uncertain whether he was yetacquainted with the journey of his mother to Bury, and having agreed tocommit to her the whole management of the affair, she feared it wouldbe dishonourable to take any step in it without her concurrence. Shereturned, therefore, a message that she had yet no answer ready.
In a very few minutes Delvile called himself, and sent up an earnestrequest for permission to see her.
Here, at least, she had no perplexity; an interview she had given herpositive word to refuse, and therefore, without a moment's hesitation,she bid the servant inform him she was particularly engaged, and sorryit was not in her power to see any company.
In the greatest perturbation he left the house, and immediately wrote toher the following lines.
_To Miss Beverley_. I entreat you to see me! if only for an instant, Ientreat, I implore you to see me! Mrs Charlton may be present, all theworld, if you wish it, may be present,--but deny me not admission, Isupplicate, I conjure you!
I will call in an hour; in that time you may have finished your presentengagement. I will otherwise wait longer, and call again. You will not,I think, turn me from' your door, and, till I have seen you, I can onlylive in its vicinity. M. D.
The man who brought this note, waited not for any answer.
Cecilia read it in an agony of mind inexpressible: she saw, by itsstyle, how much Delvile was irritated, and her knowledge of his tempermade her certain his irritation proceeded from believing himselfill-used. She ardently wished to appease and to quiet him, and regrettedthe necessity of appearing obdurate and unfeeling, even more, at thatmoment, than the separation itself. To a mind priding in its purity,and animated in its affections, few sensations can excite keener misery,than those by which an apprehension is raised of being thought worthlessor ungrateful by the objects of our chosen regard. To be deprived oftheir society is less bitter, to be robbed of our own tranquillity byany other means, is less afflicting.
Yet to this it was necessary to submit, or incur the only penalty which,to such a mind, would be more severe, self-reproach: she had promised tobe governed by Mrs Delvile, she had nothing, therefore, to do but obeyher.
Yet _to turn_, as he expressed himself, _from the door_, a man who,but for an incident the most incomprehensible, would now have been solemaster of herself and her actions, seemed so unkind and so tyrannical,that she could not endure to be within hearing of his repulse: shebegged, therefore, the use of Mrs Charlton's carriage, and determinedto make a visit to Mrs Harrel till Delvile and his mother had whollyquitted Bury. She was not, indeed, quite satisfied in going to the houseof Mr Arnott, but she had no time to weigh objections, and knew not anyother place to which still greater might not be started.
She wrote a short letter to Mrs Delvile, acquainting her with herpurpose, and its reason, and repeating her assurances that she wouldbe guided by her implicitly; and then, embracing Mrs Charlton, whomshe left to the care of her grand-daughters, she got into a chaise,accompanied only by her maid, and one man and horse, and ordered thepostilion to drive to Mr Arnott's.