Volume 6, Chapter 4 of Cecilia This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Morgan Scorpion. Cecilia Memoirs of an Heiress by Fanny Burney Volume 6, Chapter 4, A Rattle This time, the house was much enlivened by a visit from Lady Honoria Pemberton, who came to spend a month with Mrs. Delville. Cecilia had now but little leisure, for Lady Honoria would hardly rest a moment away from her. She insisted upon walking with her, sitting with her, working with her, and singing with her. Whatever she did, she chose to do also. Wherever she went, she was bent upon accompanying her, and Mrs. Delville, who wished her well, though she had no patience with her foibles, encouraged this intimacy from the hope it might do her service. It was not, however, that Lady Honoria had conceived any regard for Cecilia. On the contrary, had she been told she should see her no more, she would have heard it with the same composure as if she had been told she should meet with her daily. She had no motive for pursuing her but that she had nothing else to do, and no fondness for her society, but what resulted from aversion to solitude. Lady Honoria had received a fashionable education in which her proficiency had been equal to what fashion made requisite. She sung a little, played the harpsichord a little, painted a little, worked a little, and danced a great deal. She had quick parts and high spirits, though her mind was uncultivated and she was totally void of judgment or discretion. She was careless of giving offence and indifferent to all that was thought of her. The delight of her life was to create wonder by her rattle, and whether that wonder was to her advantage or discredit, she did not for a moment trouble herself to consider. A character of so much levity with so little heart had no great chance of raising esteem or regard in Cecilia, who at almost any other period of her life would have been worried of her unfortunate attendance. But at present, the unsettled state of her own mind made her glad to give it any employment, and the sprightliness of Lady Honoria served therefore to amuse her. Yet she could not forbear being hurt by finding that the behaviour of Delville was so exactly the same to them both, that any common observer would with difficulty have pronounced which he preferred. One morning about a week after her ladyship's arrival at the castle, she came running into Cecilia's room, saying she had very good news for her. A charming opening, cried Cecilia. Pray tell it me. Why, my Lord, Delford is coming. Oh, what a melancholy dearth of incident, cried Cecilia, if this is your best intelligence. Why, it's better than nothing. Better than going to sleep over a family party, and I vow I have sometimes such difficulty to keep awake, that I am frightened to death lest I should be taken with a sudden nap and affront them all. Now pray speak the truth without squeamishness. Don't you find it very terrible? No, I find nothing very terrible with Mrs. Delville. Oh, I like Mrs. Delville, too, of all things, for I believe she's the cleverest woman in the world, but then I know she does not like me, so there's no being very fond of her. Besides, really, if I admired her as much again, I should be dreadfully tired of seeing nothing else. She never stirs out, you know, and has no company at home, which is an extremely tiresome plan, for it only serves to make us all doubly sick of one another, though you must know it's one great reason why my father likes I should come, for he has some very old-fashioned notions, though I take a great deal of pains to make him get the better of them. But I am always excessively rejoiced when the visit has been paid, for I am obliged to come every year. I don't mean now, indeed, because your being here makes it vastly more tolerable. You do me much honour, cried Cecilia, laughing. But really, when my Lord Durford comes, it can't possibly be quite so bad, for at least there will be something else to look at, and you must know my eyes tire extremely of always seeing the same objects. We can ask him, too, for little news, and that will put Mrs. Delville in a passion, which will help to give us a little spirit, though I know we shall not get the smallest intelligence from him, for he knows nothing in the world that's going forward. And indeed, that's no great matter, for if he did he would not know how to tell it, he's so excessively silly. However, I shall ask him all sorts of things, for the less he can answer, the more it will plague him, and I like to plague a fool, amazingly, because he can never plague one again, though I really ought to beg your pardon, for he is one of your admirers. O pray make no stranger of me! You have my free consent to say whatever you please with him. I assure you, then, I like my old Lord Ernoff the best of the two, for he has a thousand times more sense than his son, and upon my word I don't think he is much uglier. But I wonder vastly that you would not marry him for all that, for you might have done exactly what you please with him, which altogether would have been no inconvenient circumstance. When I want a pupil, answers Cecilia, I shall think that an admirable recommendation, but were I to marry, I would rather find a tutor of the two. I am sure I should not, quite Lady Honoria caresly, for one has enough to do with tutors beforehand, and the best thing I know of marrying is to get rid of them. I fancy you think so too, only it's a pretty speech to make. O how my sister Euphraesie would adore you! Pray, are you always as grave as you are now? No, ah, yes, indeed I hardly know. I fancy it's this dismal place that hurts your spirits. I remember when I saw you in St James's Square, I thought you very lively, but really, these stick walls are enough to inspire the vapours, if one never had them before. I don't think they have had a very bad effect upon your ladyship. Oh yes they have. If Euphraesie was here she would hardly know me, and the extreme want of taste and entertainment in all the family is quite melancholy, for even if by chance one has the good fortune to hear any intelligence, Mrs. Delville will hardly let it be repeated for fear it should happen to be untrue, as if that could possibly signify. I'm sure I had as leave the things were false as not, for they tell as well one way as the other, if she would but have patience to hear them. But she's extremely severe you know. It's almost all those very clever women are, so that she keeps a kind of restraint upon me whether I will or no. However, that's nothing compared to her cow of sposo, for he is utterly insufferable, so solemn and so dull, so stately and so tiresome. Mortimer too gets worse and worse. Oat is a sad tribe. I dare say he will soon grow quite as horrible as his father. Don't you think so? Why indeed no, I don't think there's much resemblance," said Cecilia, with some hesitation. He is the most altered creature, continued her ladyship, I ever saw in my life.   Should I? said Cecilia, with a conscious smile. Yes, for he was quite delightful, all spirit and gaiety, but now, if it was not for you, I really think I should pretend to lose my way, and instead of going over that old drawbridge, throw myself into the moat. I wish Euphratesia was here, it's just the right place for her.  Is there any chance that Lady Euphratesia may come? Oh no, she can't at present. But it would not be proper, but I mean if ever she is married to Mortimer. Married to him, repeated Cecilia, in the utmost consternation. I believe, my dear, said Lady Honoria, looking at her very archly, you intend to be married to him yourself? Me? No, indeed. You look very guilty, though, cried she, laughing, and indeed when you came hither, everybody said that the whole affair was arranged. For shame, Lady Honoria, said Cecilia, again changing colour. I am sure this must be your own fancy invention. No, I assure you, I heard it at several places, and everybody said how charmingly your fortune would build up all these old fortifications. But some people said then you, Mr. Howell, had sold you to a Mr. Marriott, and that if you married Mortimer, there would be a lawsuit that would take away half your estate, and others said that you had promised your hand to Sir Robert Floyer, and repented when you heard of his mortgages, and he gave it out everywhere that he would fight any man that pretended to you. And then again some said that you were all the time privately married to Mr. Arnott, but did not dare own it, because he was so afraid of fighting with Sir Robert. Oh, Lady Honoria, cried Cecilia, half laughing. What wild inventions are these, and all I hope your own? No indeed, they were current over the whole town, but don't take any notice of what I told you about Eufrasia, for perhaps it may never happen. Perhaps said Cecilia, reviving by believing it all fiction, it has never been in agitation. Oh yes, it is negotiating at this very moment, I believe among the higher powers, only Mr. Delville does not know yet whether Eufrasia has fortune enough for what he wants. Ah, thoughts, Cecilia, how do I rejoice that my independent situation exempts me from being disposed of for life by thus being set up to sail? They thought of me once, for Mortimer continued Lady Honoria, but I am vastly glad that's over, for I never should have survived being shut up in this place. It's much fitter for Eufrasia. To tell you the truth, I believe they could not make out money enough, but Eufrasia has a fortune of her own, besides what we shall have together, for Grandmama left her everything that was in her own power. Is Lady Eufrasia your elder sister? Oh, no poor thing, she's two years younger. Grandmama bought her up, and she has seen nothing at all of the world, for she has never been presented yet, so she has not come out, you know, but she's to come out next year. However, she once saw Mortimer, but she did not like him at all. Not like him? cried Cecilia, greatly surprised.  Oh dear, I wish she could see him now. I'm sure I hoped she would find him sad enough.  She'll preach to you sometimes for half an hour together.  The conversation was now interrupted by their separating to dress for dinner. It left Cecilia in much perplexity. She knew not what holy to credit or holy to disbelieve, but her chief concern arose from the unfortunate change of countenance which Lady Honoria had been so quick in observing. The next time she was alone with Mrs. Delville, Miss Beverly, she said, has your little rattling tormenter acquainted you who is coming? Lord Durford, do you mean ma'am? Yes, with his father. Well, you'd just like to see them? Not if, as I hope, they come merely to wait upon you and Mr. Delville. Mr. Delville and myself, answered she, smiling, will certainly have the honour of receiving them. Lord Ernoff, said Cecilia, can never suppose his visit will make any change in me. I have been very explicit with him, and he seems equally rational and well-bred in forbearing any opportunity upon the subject. It has, however, been much believed in town to Mrs. Delville, that you were strangely shackled by Mr. Howell, and therefore his lordship may probably hope that a change in your situation may be followed by a change in his favour. I shall be sorry if he does," said Cecilia, for he will then find himself much deceived. You are right, very right, cried Mrs. Delville, to be difficult in your choice, and to take time for looking around you before you make any. I have borne all questions upon this subject, lest you should find any reluctance in answering them. But I am now too deeply interested in your welfare to be contented in total ignorance of your designs. Will you then suffer me to make a few inquiries? Cecilia gave a ready but blushing assent. Tell me, then, of the many admirers who have graced your train, which there is you have distinguished with any intention of future preference? Not one, madam. And out of so many, is there not one that, hereafter, you mean to distinguish? Ah, madam, cried Cecilia, shaking her head. As many as they may seem, I have little reason to be proud of them. There is only one who, had my fortune been smaller, would, I believe, ever have thought of me, and there is one only who, were it now diminished, would ever think of me more. This sincerity, cried Mr. Delville, is just what I expected from you. There is, then, one? I believe there is, and the worthy Mr. Arnett is the man. I am much indeed deceived if his partiality for me is not truly disinterested, and almost wish, what, my love, that I could return it more gratefully. And you do not? No, I cannot. I esteem him, I have the truest regard for his character, and where I now, by any fatal necessity, compelled to belong to any one of those who have been pleased to address me, I should not hesitate for a moment in showing him my gratitude. But yet, for some time at least, such a proof of it would render me very miserable. You may perhaps think so now, returned Mrs. Delville, but with sentiments so strongly in his favour, you will probably be led hereafter to pity and accept him. No indeed, madam, I pretend not I own to open my whole heart to you. I know not that you would have patience, for so uninteresting a detail. But though there are some things I venture not to mention, there is nothing, believe me, in which I will deceive you. I do believe you, cried Mrs. Delville, embracing her, and the more readily because not merely among your avowed admirers, but among the whole race of men, I scarce know want whom I should think you worthily consigned. Ah, thought Cecilia, that's scarce. Who may it mean to accept? To show you, she continued, that I will deserve your confidence in future. I will refrain from distressing you by any further questions at present. You will not, I think, act materially without consulting me, and for your thoughts, it would tyranny not friendship to investigate them more narrowly. Cecilia's gratitude for this delicacy would instantly have induced her to tell every secret of her soul had she not apprehended such a confession would have seemed soliciting her interest and assistance, in the only affair in which she would have disdained even to receive them. She thanked her, therefore, for her kindness, and the conversation was dropped. She much wished to have known whether these inquiries sprung simply from friendly curiosity, or whether she was desirous from any nearer motive to be satisfied with respect to her freedom or engagements. This, however, she had no method of discovering, and was therefore compelled to wait quietly till time should make it clear. End of Chapter 4. Volume 6, Chapter 5 of Cecilia. This is a LibriVox Recordings. All LibriVox Recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please go to LibriVox.org. Recorded by Morgan Scorpion. Cecilia, Memoirs of an Air-S, by Frances Burney. Volume 6, Chapter 5, A Storm. One evening about this time, which was the latter end of July, Lady Honoria and Cecilia deferred walking out till very late, and then found it so pleasant that they had stalled into the park two miles from the house when they were met by young Delville, who, however, only reminded them how far they had to return and walked on. He grows quite intolerable, cried Lady Honoria, when he was gone. It's really a melancholy thing to see a young man behave so like an old monk. I dare say in another week he won't take off his hat to us, and in about a fortnight I suppose he'll shut himself up in one of those little round towers and shape his head and live upon roots, and howl if anybody comes near him. I really half wonder he does not think it too dissipated to let Fidel run after him so. A thousand to one, but he shoots him some day for giving a sudden bark when he's in one of these gloomy bits. Something, however, must certainly be the matter with him. Perhaps he is in love. Can nothing be the matter with him but that, quite Cecilia? Nay, I don't know, but I am sure if he is, his mistress has not much occasion to be jealous of you or me, for never, I think, were too poor damsels so neglected. The utmost art of malice could not have furnished speech more truly mortifying to Cecilia than this thoughtless and accidental sally of Lady Honoria's. Particularly, however, upon her guard from the railway she had endured, she answered with a pounce in difference. He is meditating, perhaps, upon Lady Euphrasia. Oh, no, cried Lady Honoria, for he did not take any notice of her when he saw her. I am sure if he marries her it will only be because he cannot help it. Poor Lady Euphrasia. Oh, no, not at all. He'll make her two or three fine speeches, and then she'll be perfectly contented, especially if he looks as dismally at her as he does at us, and that probably he will do them all readily for not liking to look at her at all, but she's such a romantic little thing she'll never suspect him. Here they were somewhat alarmed by a sudden darkness in the air, which was presently succeeded by a thunderstorm. They instantly turned back and began running home, when a violent shower of rain obliged them to take shelter under a large tree, where in two minutes they were joined by Delville, who came to offer his assistance in hurrying them home, and finding the thunder and lightning continue, begged them to move on in defiance of the rain, as their present situation exposed them to more danger than a wet hat and cloak, which might be changed in a moment. Cecilia readily assented, but Lady Honoria, extremely frightened, protested she would not stir till the storm was over. It was in vain he represented her mistake in supposing herself in a place of security. She clung to the tree, screamed at every flash of lightning, and all her gay spirits were lost in her apprehensions. Delville then earnestly proposed to Cecilia conducting her home by herself, and returning again to Lady Honoria, but she thought it was wrong to quit her companion, and hardly right to accept his assistance separately. They waited, therefore, some time altogether, but the storm increasing with great violence, the thunder growing louder and the lightning becoming stronger, Delville grew impatient even to anger at Lady Honoria's resistance, and warmly expostulated upon its folly and danger. But the present was no season for lessons in philosophy. Prejudices she had never been taught to surmount made her think herself in a place of safety, and she was now too much terrified to give argument fair play. Finding her thus impracticable, Delville eagerly said to Cecilia, Come then, Miss Beverly, let us wait no longer. I will see you home, and then return to Lady Honoria. By no means cried she. My life is not more precious than either of yours, and therefore it may run the same risk. It is more precious, cried he with bements, than the air I breathe. And seizing her hand, he drew it under his arm, and without waiting her consent, almost forced her away with him, saying as they ran. How could a thousand Lady Honoria's recommends the world for the loss of one Miss Beverly? We may indeed find many thousands such as Lady Honoria, but such as Miss Beverly? Where shall we ever find another? Cecilia, surprised yet gratified, could not speak, for the speed with which they ran almost took away her breath, and before they were near home, slacking in her pace and panting, she confessed her strength was exhausted and that she could go so fast no further. Let us then stop and rest, cried he. But why will you not lean upon me? Surely this is no time for scruples, and for idle and unnecessary scruples Miss Beverly can never find a time. Cecilia then, urged equally by shame at his speech and by weakness from fatigue, lent upon his arm, but she soon repented her condescension for Delville with an emotion he seemed to find wholly irrepressible, passionately exclaimed, Sweet, lovely birthing, O why not thus for ever? The strength of Cecilia was now instantly restored, and she hastily withdrew from his hold. He suffered her to disengage himself, but said it in a faltering voice. Pardon me, Cecilia. Madame, Miss Beverly, I mean. Cecilia, without making any answer, walked on by herself as quick a pace as she was able, and Delville, not venturing to oppose her, silently followed. They had gone but a few steps before there came a violent shower of hail, and the wind which was very high, being immediately in their faces, Cecilia was so pelted and incommodated that she was frequently obliged to stop. In defiance of her utmost efforts to force herself forward, Delville, then approaching her, proposed that she should again stand under a tree, as the thunder and lightning for the present seemed over, and wait there till the fury of the hail was past. And Cecilia, though never before so little disposed to oblige to him, was so much distressed by the violence of the wind and hail that she was forced to comply. Every instant now seemed an age, yet neither hail nor wind abated. Meantime they were both silent, and both, though with different feelings, equately comfortless. Delville, however, who took care to place himself on the side whence the wind blew hardest, perceived, in spite of his endeavours to save her, some hailstones lodged upon her thin summer cloak. He then took off his own hat, and though he ventured not to let it touch her, held it in such a manner as to shelter her better. Cecilia could no longer be either silent or unmoved, but turning to him with much emotion said, Why will you do this, Mr. Delville? What would I not do? answered he, to obtain forgiveness from Miss Beverly. Well, well, pray put on your hat. Do you command it? No, certainly, but I wish it. Ah, quite he, instantly putting it on. Whose other commands that would have half the weight with your wishes? And then, after another pause, he added, Do you forgive me? Cecilia, ashamed of the cause of their dissension, and softened by the seriousness of his manner, answered very readily, Yes, yes, why will you make me remember such nonsense? All sweetness, cried he warmly and snatching her hand, is Miss Beverly. Oh, that I had power, that it were not utterly impossible, that the cruelty of my situation. I find, cried she, greatly agitated and forcibly drawing away her hand. You will teach me for another time the folly of fearing bad weather, and she hurried from beneath the tree. And Delville, perceiving one of the servants of an umbrella, went forward to take it from him, and directed him to hasten instantly to Lady Honoria. Then, returning it to Cecilia, he would have held it over her head, but with an air of displeasure, she took it into her own hand. Will you not let me carry it for you? he cried. No, sir, there is not any occasion. They then proceeded silently on. The storm was now soon over, but it grew very dark, and as they had quitted the path while they ran, in order to get home by a shorter cut, the walk was so bad from the height of the grass and the unevenness of the ground that Cecilia had the utmost difficulty to make her way. Yet she resolutely refused any assistance from Delville, who walked anxiously by her side, and seemed equally fearful upon his own account and upon hers to trust himself with being importunate. At length they came to a place which Cecilia in vain tried to pass. Delville then grew more urgent to help her. From, however, in declining all aid, she preferred going a considerable way round to another part of the park which led to the house. Delville, angry as well as mortified, proposed to assist her no more but followed without saying a word. Cecilia, though she felt not all the resentment she displayed, still thought it necessary to support it as she was much provoked with the perpetual inconsistency of his behaviour and deemed it wholly improper to suffer without discouragement. Occasional sallies of tenderness from one who, in his general conduct, gave with the most scrupulous reserve. They now arrived at the castle, but entering by a back way came to a small and narrow passage which obstructed the entrance of the umbrella. Delville, once more, and almost involuntarily, offered to help her, but, letting down the spring, she coldly said she had no further use for it. He then went forward to open a small gate which led by another long passage into the hall, but hearing the servant's advance, he held it for an instant in his hand while in a tone of voice the most ejected he said, I am grieved to find you thus offended, but were it possible you could know half the wretchedness of my heart the generosity of your own would make you regret this severity, and then, opening the gate, he bowed and went another way. Cecilia was now in the midst of servants, but so much shocked and astonished by the unexpected speech of Delville which instantly changed all her anger into sorrow that she scarce knew what they said to her, nor what she replied, though they all with one voice inquired what was become of Lady Honoria in which way they should run to seek her. Mrs. Delville then came also, and she was obliged to recollect herself. She immediately proposed her going to bed and drinking white wine way to prevent taking cold. Cold indeed she feared not, yet she agreed to the proposal for she was confounded and dismayed by what had passed, and utterly unable to hold any conversation. Her perplexity and distress were, however, all attributed to fatigue and fright, and Mrs. Delville, having assisted in hurrying her to bed, went to perform the same office for Lady Honoria who arrived at that time. Left at length by herself, she resolved in her mind the adventure of the evening, and the whole behaviour of Delville since first she was acquainted with him. Though he loved her with tenderness, with fondness loved her, seemed no longer to admit of any doubt, for however distant and cold he appeared when acting with circumspection and design, the moment he was off his guard from surprise, terror, accident of any sort, the moment that he was betrayed into acting from nature inclination, he was constantly certain to discover a regard the most animated and flattering. This regard, however, was not more evident than his desire to conceal and to conquer it. He seemed to dread even her sight, and to have imposed upon himself the most rigid forbearance of all conversation or intercourse with her. Whence could this arise? What strange and unfathomable cause could render necessary a conduct so mysterious? He knew not, indeed, that she herself wished it changed, but he could not be ignorant that his chance with almost any woman would at least be worth trying. Was the obstacle which thus discouraged him the condition imposed by her uncle's will of giving her own name to the man she married? This she herself thought was an unpleasant circumstance, but yet so common for an heiress that it could hardly outweigh the many advantages of such a connection. Henrietta again occurred to her. The letter she had seen in her hands was still unexplained, yet her entire conviction that Henrietta was not loved by him jointed to a certainty that affection alone could ever make him think of her, lessened upon this subject her suspicions every moment. Lady Euphratesia Pemberton, at last, rested most upon her mind, and she thought it probable some actual treaty was negotiating with the Duke of Derwent. Mrs. Delville, she had every reason to believe was her friend, though she was scrupulously delicate in avoiding either railway or observation upon the subject of her son, whom she rarely mentioned, and never but upon occasions in which Cecilia could have no possible interest. The father, therefore, notwithstanding all Mr. Moncton had represented to the contrary, appeared to be the real obstacle. His pride might readily object to her birth, which, though not contemptible, was merely decent, and which, if traced beyond her grandfather, was no title even to that epithet. If this, however, she acquired is at last his situation, how much have I been to blame in censoring his conduct? For while to me he has appeared capricious, he has in fact acted wholly from necessity. If his father insists upon his forming another connection, has he not been honourable, prudent, and just in flying an object that made him think of disobedience, and endeavouring to keep her ignorant of a partiality it is his duty to curb? All therefore that remained for her to do or to resolve was to guard her own secret with more assiduous care than ever, and since she found that their union was by himself thought impossible, to keep from his knowledge that the regret was not all his own. CHAPTER VI A Mystery For two days, in consequence of violent colds caught during the storm, Lady Honoria Pemberton and Cecilia were confined to their rooms. Cecilia, glad by solitude and reflection to compose her spirits and settle her plan of conduct, would willingly have still prolonged her retirement, but the abatement of her cold affording her no pretense, she was obliged on the third day to make her appearance. Honoria, though less recovered as she had been more a sufferer, was impatient of any restraint and would take no denial to quitting her room at the same time. At dinner, therefore, all the family met as usual. Mr. Delville, with his accustomed solemnity of civility, made various inquiries and congratulations upon their danger and their security, carefully in both, addressing himself first to Lady Honoria, and then with more stakeliness in his kindness, to Cecilia. His lady, who had frequently visited them both, had nothing new to hear. Delville did not come in till they were all seated, when, hastily saying he was glad to see both the ladies so well again, he instantly employed himself in carving, with the agitation of a man who feared trusting himself to sit idle. Little, however, as he said, Cecilia was much struck by the melancholy tone of his voice, and the moment she raised her eyes she observed that his countenance was equally sad. Mortimer, cried Mr. Delville, I am sure you are not well. I cannot imagine why you will not have some advice. Were I to send for a physician, sir, quite Delville, with affected cheerfulness, he would find it much more difficult to imagine what advice to give me. Permit me, however, Mr. Mortimer, cried Lady Honoria, to return you my humble thanks for the honour of you. I am afraid you made yourself ill by attending me. Your ladyship returned Delville, colouring very high, yet pretending to laugh, made so great a coward of me that I ran away from shame at my own inferiority of courage. Were you, then, with Lady Honoria during the storm, quite Mrs. Delville? No, madam, quite Lady Honoria very quick, but he was so good as to leave me during the storm. Mortimer, said Mr. Delville, is this possible? Oh, Lady Honoria was such a heroine, answered Delville, that she wholly disdained receiving any assistance. Her valour was so much more undaunted than mine, that she ventured to brave the lightning under an oak tree. Now, dear Mrs. Delville, exclaimed Lady Honoria, think what a simpleton he would have made of me. He wanted to persuade me that in the open air I should be less exposed to danger than under the shelter of a thick tree. Lady Honoria, replied Mrs. Delville with a smile. The next tale of scandal you oblige me to hear, I will insist for your punishment that you shall read one of Mr. Newbury's little books. There are twenty of them that will explain this matter to you, and such a reading will at least employ your time as usefully as such tales. Well, ma'am, said Lady Honoria, I don't know whether you are laughing at me or not, but really I concluded Mr. Mortimer only chose to amuse himself in a tate-a-tate with Miss Beverly, cried Mrs. Delville with quickness. She was alone. I saw her myself the moment she came in. Yes, ma'am, but not then. He was gone, said Cecilia, endeavouring, but not very successfully to speak with composure. I had the honour, cried Delville, making with equal success the same attempt, to wait upon Miss Beverly to the little gate, and I was then returning to Lady Honoria when I met her ladyship just coming in. Very extraordinary, Mortimer, said Mr. Delville, staring, to attend Lady Honoria the last. Don't be angry and earnest, sir, cried Lady Honoria gaily, for I did not mean to turn tell-tale. Here the subject was dropped greatly to the joy both of Delville and Cecilia, who mutually exerted themselves in talking upon what next was started in order to prevent it from being recurred to again. That fear, however, over, Delville said little more. Sadness hung heavily on his mind. His absent, disturbed, uneasy. Yet he endeavoured no longer to avoid Cecilia, on the contrary, when she arose to quit the room he looked evidently disappointed. The ladies' coals kept them at home all evening, and Delville for the first time since their arrival at the castle joined them at tea. Nor when it was over did he as usual retire. He loitered, pretended to be caught by a new pamphlet, and looked as anxiously eager to speak with Cecilia as he had hitherto appeared to shun her. With new emotion and fresh distress Cecilia perceived this change. What he might have to say she could not conjecture, but all that forran his communication convinced her it was nothing she could wish, and much as she had desired some explanation of his designs, when the long expected moment seemed surviving for agnostications the most cruel of the event repressed her impatience and deadened her curiosity. She earnestly lamented her great residence in his house, where the adoration of every inhabitant from his father to the lowest servant had impressed her with the strongest belief of his general worthiness, and greatly though imperceptibly increased her regard for him, since she had now not a doubt remaining, but that some cruel, some fatal obstacle prohibited their union. To collect fortitude to hear it with composure was now her whole study, but though when alone she thought every preferable to suspense, all her courage failed her when Delville appeared, and if she could not detain Lady Honoria, she involuntarily followed her. Thus passed four or five days during which the health of Delville seemed to suffer with his mind, and though he refused to acknowledge he was ill it was evident to everybody that he was far from well. Mr. Delville frequently urged him to consent to have some advice, but he always revived, though with forced and spirit at the mention of a physician, and the proposal ended in nothing. Mrs. Delville too at length grew alarmed, her inquiries were more penetrating and pointed, but they were not more successful. Every attack of this sort was followed by immediate gaiety, which however constrained served for the time to change the subject. Mrs. Delville however was not soon to be deceived. She watched her son incessantly and seemed to feel an inquiritude scarceless than his own. Cecilia's distress was now augmented every moment, and the difficulty to conceal it grew every hour more painful. She felt herself the cause of the dejection of the son, and that thought made her feel guilty in the presence of the mother. The explanation she expected threatened her with new misery, and the courage to endure it she tried in vain to acquire. Her heart was most cruelly oppressed. Apprehension and suspense never left it for an instant. Rest abandoned her at night, and cheerfulness by day. At this time the two lords, Ernolphe and Durford, arrived, and Cecilia who at first had lamented their design now rejoiced in their presence, since they divided the attention of Mrs. Delville, which she began to fear was not wholly directed to her son, and since they saved her from having the whole force of Lady Honore's high spirits and gay rattle to herself, their immediate observations upon the ill looks of Delville startled both Cecilia and the mother even more than their own fears, which they had hoped were rather the result of apprehension than of reason. Cecilia now severely reproached herself with having deferred the conference he was evidently seeking, not doubting, but she had contributed to his interdisposition by denying him the relief he might expect from concluding the affair. Melancholia's was this idea. It was yet a motive to overpower her reluctance and determine her no longer to shun what it seemed necessary to endure. Deep reasoners, however, when they are also nice casuists, frequently resolve with a tardiness which renders their resolutions of no effect. This was the case with Cecilia. The same morning that she came downstairs prepared to meet with firmness the blow which she believed awaited her, Delville, who since the arrival of the two lords had always appeared at the general breakfast, acknowledged in answer to his mother's earnest inquiries, that he had a cold and headache, and had he, at the same time, acknowledged a pleurisy and fever, the alarm instantly spread in the family could not have been greater. Mr. Delville, furiously ringing the bell, ordered a man and horse to go that moment to Dr. Lister, the physician to the family, and not to return without him if he was himself alive. And Mrs. Delville, not less distressed than more quiet, fixed her eyes upon her son with an expression of anxiety that showed her whole happiness bound in his recovery. Delville endeavoured to laugh away their fears, assuring them he should be well the next day, and representing in ridiculous terms the perplexity of Dr. Lister to contrive some prescription for him. Cecilia's behaviour, guided by prudence and modesty, was steady and composed. She believed his illness and his uneasiness were the same, and she hoped the resolution she had taken would bring relief to them both while the terrors of Mr. and Mrs. Delville seemed so greatly occasioned that her own were rather lessened than increased by them. Dr. Lister soon arrived. He was a humane and excellent physician and a man of sound judgment. Delville, gaily shaking hands with him, said, I believe Dr. Lister you little expected to meet a patient who, were he as skillful, would be as able to do business as yourself. What, with such a hand as this? cried the doctor. Come, come, you must not teach me my own profession. When I attend a patient I come to tell how he is myself, not to be told. He is then ill, cried Mrs. Delville. Oh Mortimer, why have you thus deceived us? What is his disorder, cried Mr. Delville? Let us call in more help. Who shall we send for doctor? And again he rang the bell. What now? said Dr. Lister Cooley. Must a man be dying if he is not in perfect health? We want nobody else. I hope I can prescribe for a cold without demanding a consultation. But are you sure it is merely a cold, cried Mr. Delville? May not some dreadful malady? Praise her, have patience, interrupt to the doctor. Mr. Mortimer and I will have some discourse together presently.  I never talk of my art before company. It is hard you won't let me be a gentleman at large for two minutes. Lady Honoria and Cicilia would then have risen, but neither Dr. Lister nor Delville would permit them to go, and the conversation tolerably lively took place, after which the party in general separating the doctor accompanied Delville to his own apartment. Cicilia then went upstairs, where she most impatiently waited some intelligence. None however arriving in about half an hour she returned to the parlour. She found it empty, but was soon joined by Lady Honoria and Lord Urnolf. Lady Honoria, happy in having something going forward, and not much concerning herself whether it were good or evil, was as eager to communicate what she had gathered as Cicilia was to hear it. Well, my dear, she cried, so I don't find it last, but all this prestigious illness will be laid to your account. To my account, cried Cicilia, how is that possible? Why, this tender chicken caught cold in the storm last week, and not being put to bed by its mamma and nursed with white wine-way, this thing has got a fever. He is a fine young man, said Lord Urnolf. I should be sorry any harm happened to him.  However, it's all the fault of his father and mother.  It was with the utmost difficulty I for bore laughing in their faces, and really I believe if I was to meet with such an unfortunate accident with Mr. Delville it would turn him to marble at once. Indeed, he is little better now, but such an affront as that would never let him move from the spot where he received it. I forgive him, however, returned Lord Urnolf, for his anxiety about his son since he is the last of so ancient a family. That is his great misfortune, my lord, answered Lady Honoria, because it is the very reason they make such a puppet of him. If there were but a few more little masters to dangle and fondle, I'll answer for it this precious mortimer would soon be left to himself. And then, really, I believe he would be a good tolerable sort of young man. Don't you think he would, Miss Beverly? Oh, yes, said Cecilia. I believe. I think so. Nay, nay, I did not ask if he thought him tolerable now, so no need to be frightened. Here they were interrupted by the entrance of Dr. Lister. Well, sir, quite Lady Honoria, and when am I to go into mourning for my cousin Mortimer? Why, very soon, answered he, unless you take better care of him, he has confessed to me that after being out in the storm last Wednesday, he sat in his wet clothes all the evening. Dear, quite Lady Honoria, and what would that do to him? I have no notion of a man's always wanting a canvas handkerchief about his throat. Perhaps your ladyship had rather make him apply it to his eyes, quite the doctor. However, sitting inactive in wet clothes would destroy us out of man and Mr. Delville, but he forgot it, he says. Which of you two young ladies could not have given us good reason? Your most obedient, said Lady Honoria, and why should not a lady give us good a reason as a gentleman? I don't know, answered he dryly, but from want of practice, I believe. Who worse and worse, why, Lady Honoria, you shall never be my physician.  All the better, answered he, for then I must have the honour of attending you till I made you well instead of sick. And with a good, humid smile, he left them. At Lord Dairford, at the same time coming into the room, Cecilia contrived to stroll out into the park. The account to which she had been listening redoubled her uneasiness. She was conscious that whatever was the indisposition of Delville, and whether it was mental or bodily, she was herself its occasion. Through her he had been negligent. She had rendered him forgetful, and in consulting her own fears in preference to his peace, she had avoided an explanation, though he had vigilantly sought one. She knew not, he told her, half the wretchedness of his heart. Alas! thought she. He little conjectures the state of mind. Lady Honoria suffered her not to be long alone. In about half an hour she ran after her, gaily calling out, Oh, Miss Beverly, you have lost a delightful diversion in the world.  I asked him what put it in his head to be in love with you, and he had the simplicity to answer, quite seriously, his father. He was very right, said Cecilia, if the desire of uniting two estates is to be denominated being in love. For that most certainly was put into his head by his father. Oh, but you have not heard half. I told him then, that as a friend in confidence I must acquaint him, I believed you intended to marry Mortimer. Good heavens, Lady Honoria. Oh, you shall hear the reason, because as I assured him, it was proper he should immediately call him to account.  For as you know, Cedi, Miss Beverly has had one dual thought for her already, and a lady who has once had that compliment paid her always expects it from every new admirer, and I really believe you are not observing that form is the true nature of her coldness to you. Is it possible you can have talked so wildly? Yes, and what is much better he believed every word I said. Much better? Though indeed it is much worse. And if, in fact, he is so uncommonly weak, I shall really be but little indebted to your ladyship for giving him such notions. Oh, I would not but have done it for I never laughed so moderately in my life. He began assuring me he was not afraid, for he said he had practised fencing more than anything, so I made him promise to send a challenge to Mortimer as soon as he is well enough to come down again, for Dr. Lister has ordered him to keep his room. Cecilia, smothering her concern for this last piece of intelligence by pretending to feel it merely for the former, expostulated with Lady Honoria upon so mysterious a frolic, and earnestly entreated her to go back and contradict it all. No, no, not for the world, quad she. He has not the least spirit, and I dare say he would not fight to save the whole nation from destruction, but I'll make him believe that it's necessary in order to give him something to think of, for really his poor head is so vacant that I am sure if one might but play upon it with sticks it would sound just like a drum. Cecilia, finding it vain to combat with her fantasies, was at length obliged to submit. The rest of the day she passed very unpleasantly. Delville appeared not, his father was restless and disturbed, and his mother, though attentive to her guests and for their sakes rallying her spirits, was visibly ill-disposed to think or talk but of her son. One diversion, however, Cecilia found for herself. Delville had a favourite spaniel, which, when he walked, followed him, and when he rode, ran by his horse, and this dog, who was not admitted into the house, she now took under her own care and spent almost the whole day out of doors, chiefly for the satisfaction of making him her companion. The next morning, when Dr. Lister came again, she kept in the way in order to hear his opinion, and was sitting with Lady Honoria in the parlour when he entered it to write a description. Mrs. Delville, in a few moments, followed him, and with a face and voice of the tenderest maternal apprehensions, said, Doctor, one thing entrust me with immediately. I can neither bear imposition nor suspense. You know what I would say. Tell me if I have anything to fear that my preparations may be adequate. Nothing I believe in the world. You believe, repeated Mrs. Delville starting, Oh, Doctor, why you would not have me say I am certain, would you? These are no times for popery and infallibility. However, I assure you I think him perfectly safe. He has done a foolish and idle trick, but no man is wise always. We must get rid of his fever, and then if his cold remains with any cough, he may make a little excursion to Bristol. To Bristol? Nay, then, I understand you too well. No, no, you don't understand me at all. I don't send him to Bristol because he is in a bad way, but merely because I mean to put him in a good one. Let him then go immediately. Why should he increase the danger by waiting a moment? I will order— Hold, hold, I know what to order myself. It is a strange thing people will always teach me my own duty. Why should I make a man travel such weather as this in a fever? Do you think I want to confine him in a madhouse or be confined in one myself? Certainly you know best, but still, if there is any danger— No, no, there is not. Only we don't choose there should be any. And how will he entertain himself better than by going to Bristol? I send him merely on a joint of pleasure, and I am sure he will be safer there than shot up in a house with two such young ladies as these. And then he made off. Mrs. Delville, too anxious for conversation, left the room, and Cecilia, too conscious for silence, forced herself into discourse with Lady Honoria. Three days she passed in this uncertainty what she had to expect, blaming those fears which had deferred an explanation and tormented by Lady Honoria, whose railery and levity now grew very unseasonable. Fidel, the favourite spaniel, was almost her only consolation, and she pleased herself not inconsiderably by making a friend of the faithful animal. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Amanda Heineman. Cecilia, Memoirs of an Heiress by Francis Burney. Volume 6, Chapter 7, An Anecdote On the fourth day the house wore a better aspect. Delville's fever was gone, and Dr. Lister permitted him to leave his room. A cough, however, remained, and his journey to Bristol was settled to take place in three days. Cecilia, knowing he was now expected downstairs, hastened out of the parlor the moment she had finished her breakfast, for, affected by his illness and hurt at the approaching separation, she dreaded the first meeting and wished to fortify her mind for bearing it with propriety.  It is amazing to me he is so patient with them, for, if they teased me half as much, I should be ready to jump up and shake them. But I wish you would come down, for I assure you it's a comical scene. Your ladyship is soon diverted. But what is there so comical in the anxiety of parents for an only son? Lord, they don't carestraw for him all the time. It's merely that he may live to keep up this old castle, which I hope in my heart he will pull down the moment they are dead. But do pray come, it will really give you spirits to see them all. The father keeps ringing the bell to order half a hundred pair of boots for him and all the greatcoats in the county. And the mother sits and looks as if the hearse and morning-coach were already coming over the drawbridge. But the most diverting object among them is my Lord Durford. Oh, it is really too entertaining to see him. There he sits, thinking the whole time of his challenge. I intend to employ him all this afternoon in practicing to shoot at a mark. And then again she pressed her to join the group, and Cecilia, fearing her opposition might seem strange, consented. Delville arose at her entrance and with tolerable steadiness she congratulated him on his recovery and then, taking her usual seat, employed herself in embroidering a screen. She joined, too, occasionally in the conversation and observed, not without surprise, that Delville seemed much less dejected than before his confinement. Soon after he ordered his horse and accompanied by Lord Durford, rode out. Mr. Delville then took Lord Urnolf to shoe him some intended improvements in another part of the castle, and Lady Honoria walked away in search of any entertainment she could find. Mistress Delville, in better spirits than she had been for many days, sent for her own work, and sitting by Cecilia, conversed with her again as in former times, mixing instruction with entertainment and general satire with particular kindness, in a manner at once so lively and so flattering that Cecilia herself, in the morning, found but little difficulty in burying her part in the conversation. And thus, with some gaiety and tolerable ease, was spent the greatest part of the morning, but just as they were talking of changing their dress for dinner, Lady Honoria, with an air of the utmost exaltation, came flying into the room. Well, ma'am, she cried, I have some news now that I must tell you, because it will make you believe me another time, though I know it will put you in a passion. That's sweetly designed, at least, said Mistress Delville, laughing. However, I'll trust you, for my passions will not just now be irritated by straws. Why, ma'am, don't you remember I told you when you were in town that Mr. Mortimer kept a mistress? Yes, cried Mistress Delville disdainfully, and you may remember, Lady Honoria, I told you. Oh, you would not believe a word of it, but it's all true, I assure you, and now he has brought her down here. He sent for her about three weeks ago, and he has boarded her at a cottage about half a mile from the park gate. Cecilia, to whom Henrietta Belfield was instantly present, changed color repeatedly, and turned so extremely sick, she could with difficulty keep her seat. She forced herself, however, to continue her work, though she knew so little what she was about that she put her needle in and out of the same place without ceasing. Meanwhile, Mistress Delville, with accountants of the utmost indignation, exclaimed, Lady Honoria, if you think a tale of scandal such as this reflects no disgrace upon it for later, you must pardon me for entreating you to find an auditor more of the same opinion than myself. Nay, ma'am, since you are so angry, I'll tell you the whole affair, for this is but half of it. He has a child here, too. I vow I long to see it, and he is so fond of it that he spends half his time in nursing it. And that, I suppose, is the thing that takes him out so much, and I fancy, too, that's what has made him grow so grave, for maybe he thinks it would not be pretty to be very frisky now he's a papa. Not only Cecilia, but Mistress Delville herself was now overpowered, and she sat for some time wholly silent and confounded. Lady Honoria then, turning to Cecilia exclaimed, Bless me, Miss Beverly, what are you about?  You have spoiled your whole work. Cecilia, in the utmost confusion, though pretending to laugh, then began to unpick it, and to Mistress Delville recovering more calmly, though not less angrily said, and has this tell the honor of being invented solely by your ladyship, or had it any other assistant? Oh, no, I assure you it's no invention of mine. I had it from very good authority upon my word, but only look at Miss Beverly would not one think I had said that she had a child herself. She looks as pale as death. My dear, I am sure you can't be well. I beg your pardon, cried Cecilia, forcing a smile, though extremely provoked with her. I never was better. And then, with the hope of appearing unconcerned, she raised her head but meeting the eyes of Mistress Delville fixed upon her face with the look of penetrating observation, abashed and guilty, she again dropped it, and looked. Well, my dear, said Lady Honoria, I am sure there is no occasion to send for Dr. Lister to you, for you recover yourself in a moment. You have the finest color now I ever saw. Has not she, Mistress Delville? Did you ever see anybody blush so becomingly? I wish, Lady Honoria, said Mistress Delville, with severity. It were possible to see you blush. Oh, but I never do. Not but what it's pretty enough for you, but I don't know how it is. It never happens. Now Eufrasia can blush from morning to night. I can't think how she contrives it. Miss Beverly, too, plays at it vastly well. She's red and white, and white and red half a dozen times in a minute, especially looking at her archly and lowering her voice, if you talk to her of Mortimer. No indeed, no such thing, cried Cecilia, with some resentment and again looking up, but towards Mistress Delville and again meeting hers, filled with the strongest expression of inquiring solicitude, unable to sustain their inquisition, and shocked to find herself thus watchfully observed, she returned in hasty confusion to her employment. Well, my dear, cried Lady Honoria again, but what are you about now? Do you intend to unpick the whole screen? How can she tell what she is doing, said Mistress Delville, finally? I will take you away from her that she may have a little peace. You shall do me the honour to attend my toilet, and acquaint me with some further particulars of this extraordinary discovery. Mistress Delville then left the room, but Lady Honoria, before she followed her, said in a low voice, Pity me, Miss Beverly, if you have the least good nature, I am now going to hear a lecture of two hours long. Cecilia left herself was in a almost insupportable. Delville's mysterious conduct seemed the result of some entanglement of vice. Henrietta Belfield, the artless Henrietta Belfield she feared had been abused, and her own ill-fated partiality, which now more than ever she wished unknown even to herself, was evidently betrayed, where most the dignity of her mind made her desire it to be concealed. In this state of shame, regret, and resentment, which made her change her dress or her place, she was suddenly surprised by Delville. Starting and coloring she busied herself with collecting her work that she might hurry out of the room. Delville, though silent himself, endeavored to assist her, but when she would have gone he attempted to stop her, saying Miss Beverly, for three minutes only. No, sir, cried she indignantly, not for an instant, and leaving him utterly astonished she hastened to her own apartment. She was then sorry she had been so precipitant, nothing had been clearly proved against him, no authority was so likely to be palatious as that of Lady Honoria, neither was he under any engagement to herself that could give her any right to manifest such displeasure. These reflections however came too late, and the quick feelings of her agitated mind were too rapid to wait the dictates of cool reason. At dinner she attended holy to Lord whose assiduous politeness, profiting by the humor, saved her the painful effort of forcing conversation or the guilty consciousness of giving way to silence and enabled her to preserve her general tenor between taciturnity and loquaciousness. Mistress Delville she did not once dare look at, but her son she saw seemed greatly hurt, yet it was proudly not sorrowfully, and therefore she saw it with less uneasiness. During the rest of the day which was passed in general society, Mistress Delville, though much occupied, frequently leaving the room and sending for Lady Honoria was more soft, kind, and gentle with Cecilia than ever, looking at her with the utmost tenderness, often taking her hand and speaking to her with even unusual sweetness. Cecilia, with mingled sadness and pleasure, observed this increasing regard, which she could not but attribute to the discovery made through Lady Honoria's presence, and which, while it rejoiced her with the belief of her approvation, added fresh force to her regret in considering it was fruitless. Delville, meantime, evidently offended himself, conversed only with the gentleman, and went very early into his own room. When they were all retiring, Mistress Delville, following Cecilia, dismissed her maid to talk with her alone. I am not, I hope, often she cried solicitous or impertunate to speak about my son, his character, I believe, wants no vindication. Clear and unsullied it has always been its own support, yet the aspersion cast upon it this morning by Lady Honoria I think myself bound to explain, not partially as his mother, but simply as his friend. Cecilia, who knew not whether such an explanation might lead, nor wherefore it was made, heard this opening with much emotion, but gave neither to that nor to what followed him. Mistress Delville then continued, she had taken the trouble, she said, to sift the whole affair in order to shame Lady Honoria by a pointed conviction of what she had invented, and to trace from the foundation the circumstances whence her surmises or report had sprung. Delville it seemed about a fortnight before the present time, and one of his morning walks had observed a gypsy sitting by the side of the beautiful child tied to her back. Struck with the baby, he stopped to inquire to whom it belonged. To herself, she said, and begged his charity with the most pitiable cries of distress, telling him that she was traveling to join some of her fraternity who were in a body near Bath, but was so ill with an egg and fever that she feared she should die on the road. Delville desired her to go to the next cottage, and promised to pay for her board and spoke to the man and his wife who owned it to take them in, who, glad to oblige his honor, instantly consented, and he had since called twice to see in what manner they went on. How simple continued Mistress Delville is a matter of fact in itself and how complex when embellished. This tale has been told by the cottagers to our servants. It has traveled, probably gaining something from every mouth, to Lady Honoria's maid, and having reached out, was swelled in a moment into all we heard. I think, however, that for some time at least her levity will be rather less staring. I have not, in this affair, at all spared her. I made her hear from Mortimer himself the little story as it happened. I then carried her to the cottage where we had the whole matter confirmed, and I afterwards insisted upon being told, by self, by her maid, all she had related to her lady, that she might thus be unanchorably convicted of whatever she omitted. I have occasioned her some confusion and for the moment a little resentment, but she is so volatile that neither will last, and though with regard to my own family I may perhaps have rendered her more cautious, I fear with regard to the world in general she is utterly incorrigible, because it has neither pleasure nor advantage to offer that can compensate for the deprivation of relating one starring story or ridiculous anecdote. And then, wishing her good night, she added, I make not any apology for this detail which you oh not believe me to a mother's folly, but if I know myself at all, to a love of truth and justice. Mortimer, independent of all connection with me, cannot but to everybody appear of a character which may be deemed even exemplary. Columny therefore falling upon such a subject, injures not only himself but society since it weakens all confidence in virtue and strengthens the criticism of depravity. She then left her. Ah, thought Cecilia, to me at least, this solicitude for his fame needs no apology. Humane and generous Delville never again will I a moment doubt your worthiness. And then cherishing that darling idea she forgot all her cares and apprehensions, her quarrel, her suspicions, and the approaching separation, and recompensed for everything by this refutation of guilt she hastened to bed and composed herself to rest. End of Chapter 7 Recorded by Amanda Hindman in Glen, Mississippi www.livinginbooks.blogspot.com Volume 6, Chapter 8 of Cecilia This is a LibriFox recording. All LibriFox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriFox.org Recorded by Amanda Hindman Cecilia, Memoirs of an Heiress by Francis Burney Volume 6, Chapter 8 A Conference Early the next morning, Cecilia had a visit from Lady Honoria who came to tell her story her own way and laugh at the anxiety of Mistress Delville and the trouble she had taken for after all continued she what did the whole matter signify and how could I possibly help the mistake when I heard of his paying for a woman's board what was so natural as to suppose she must be his mistress, especially as there was a child in the case. Oh, how I wish you had been with us.  Away we went in the shade's full drive to the cottage, frightening all the people woman, away ran the poor man. Both of them thought the end of the world at hand. The gypsy was best off for she went to her old business and began begging. I assure you, I believe she would be very pretty if she was not so ill, and so I dare say Mortimer thought, too, or I fancy he would not have taken such care of her. Phi, Phi, Lady Honoria, will nothing bring conviction to you? Nay, you know there's no harm in it, for why should not pretty people live as well as ugly ones? There's no occasion to leave nothing in the world but frights. I looked hard at the baby to see if it was like Mortimer, but I could not make it out. Those young things are like nothing. I tried if it would talk, for I wanted sadly to make it call Mistress Delville grandmama. However, the little urchin could say nothing to be understood. Oh, what a rage would Mistress Delville have been in. I suppose this whole castle would really have been thought heavy enough to crush such an insolent brat, though it were to have fallen upon it all at a blow. Thus rattled this lighthearted lady till the family was assembled to breakfast, and then Cecilia softened towards Delville by newly excited admiration as well as by the absence which would separate them the following day, intended by every little courteous office in her power to make her peace with him before his departure. But she observed, with much chagrin, that Mistress Delville never ceased to watch her, which, added to an air of pride in the coldness of Delville that he had never before assumed, discouraged her from making the attempt and compelled her to seem quiet and unconcerned. As soon as breakfast was over, the gentlemen awed road or walked out, and when the ladies were by themselves Lady Honoria suddenly exclaimed, Mistress Delville, I can't imagine for what reason you send Mr. Mortimer to Bristol, for a reason, Lady Honoria, that with all your wildness I should be very sorry you should know better by experience. Why then, ma'am, had we not better make a party and all go? Miss Beverly, should you like to join it? I am afraid it would be vastly disagreeable to you. Cecilia, now again, was red and white, and white and red a dozen times in a minute, and Mistress Delville rising and taking her hand expressively said, Miss Beverly, you have a thousand times much sensibility for this madcap of a companion. I believe I shall punish her by taking you away from her all this morning. Will you come and sit with me in the dressing room? Cecilia assented without daring to look at her, and followed in, trembling upstairs. Something of importance she fancied would ensue. Her secret she saw was revealed, and therefore she could form no conjecture but that Delville would be the subject of their discourse, yet whether to explain or plead his cause, whether to express her separate approbation or communicate some intelligence from himself, she had neither time opportunity nor clue to unravel. All that was undoubted seemed the affection of Mistress Delville. All that on her own part could be resolved was to suppress her partiality till she knew if it might properly be avowed. Mistress Delville, who saw her perturbation, led immediately to subjects of indifference, and talked upon them no long, and with so much ease that Cecilia, recovering her composure, began to think she had been mistaken and that nothing was intended but a tranquil conversation. As soon however, as she had quieted her apprehensions, she sat silent herself with a look that Cecilia easily construed into thoughtful perplexity in what manner she should introduce what she meant to communicate. This pause was seceded by her speaking of Lady Honoria, how wild, how careless, how incorrigible she is. She lost her mother early, and the duke who idolizes her, and who, marrying very late, is already an old man, she rules entirely. With him and a supple governess, who has neither courage to oppose her, nor heart to wish well but to her own interest, she has lived almost wholly. Lately, indeed, she has come more into the world but without even a desire of improvement, and with no view and no thought but to identify her idle humor by laughing at whatever goes forward. She certainly neither wants parts nor discernments, said Cecilia, and when my mind is not occupied by other matters, I find her conversation entertaining and agreeable. Yes, said Mistress Delville, but that light sort of wit which attacks with equal alacrity what is serious or what is gay is twenty times offensive, to once that it is exhilarating. Since it shoes that while its only aim is self-diversion, it has the most insolent negligence with respect to any pain it gives to others. The rank of Lady Honoria, though it has not rendered her proud, nor even made her conscious she has any dignity to support, has yet given her a saucy indifference whom she pleases or hurts, that borders upon what in a woman is of all things the most odious, a daring defiance of the world and its opinions. Cecilia, nevertheless disposed to enter upon her sense, made but little answer and soon after, Mistress Delville added, I heartily wish she were properly established and yet according to the pernicious manners and maxims of the present age, she is perhaps more secure from misconduct while single than she will be when married. Her father, I fear, will leave her too much to herself, and in that case I scarce know what may become of her. She has neither judgment nor principle to direct her choice, and therefore in all the same whim which one day will guide it, will the next lead her to repent it. Again they were both silent, and then Mistress Delville gravely, yet with energy exclaimed, how few are there, how very few, whom marry at once upon principles rational and feelings pleasant. Interest and inclination are eternally at strife, and where either is holy sacrifice the other is inadequate to happiness, yet how rarely do they divide the attention. The young are rash and the aged are mercenary, their deliberations are never in concert, their views are scarce ever blended, one vanquishes and the other submits, neither party temporizes and commonly each is unhappy. The time, she continued, is now arrived when reflections of this sort cannot too seriously occupy me. The errors I have observed in others I would feign avoid committing, yet such is the blindness of self-love that perhaps even at the moment I censure them I am falling without consciousness into the same. Nothing, however, shall through negligence be wrong for where is the son who merits care and attention if Mortimer from his parents deserves not to meet them. The expectations of Cecilia were now again awakened and awakened with fresh terrors lest Mistress Delville from compassion meant to offer her services. Bigurously therefore she determined to exert herself and rather give up Mortimer and all thoughts of him forever than submit to receive assistance in persuading him to the union. Mr. Delville, she continued, is most earnest and impatient that some alliance should take place without further delay and for myself could I see him with propriety and with happiness disposed of what a weight of anxiety would be removed from my heart. Cecilia now made an effort to speak attempting to say certainly it is of great consequence, but so low was her voice and so confused her manner that Mistress Delville, though attentively listening, heard not a word. She forbore, however, to make her repeat what she said and went on herself as if speaking in answer.  This castle and estate and another in the north were entailed upon him by the late Lord Delville, his grandfather who, disobliged by his eldest son, the present Lord, left everything he had power to dispose of to his second son, Mr. Delville and at his death to his grandson Mortimer. And even the present Lord, though always at variance with his brother, is fond of his nephew and has declared him his heir. I also have one sister, who is rich, who has no children and who has made the same declaration. Yet though with such high expectations he must not connect himself imprudently, for his parental estate wants repair and he is well entitled with a wife to expect what it requires. Most true thought Cecilia, yet ashamed of her recent failure, she applied herself to her work and would not again try to speak. He is amiable, accomplished, well educated and well born. Far may we look and not meet with his equal. No woman need disdain and few women would refuse him. Cecilia blushed her concurrence, yet could well at that moment have spared hearing the eulogy. Yet how difficult she continued to find a proper alliance. There are many who have some recommendations, but who is there wholly unexceptionable? This question seemed unanswerable, nor could Cecilia devise what it meant. Girls of high family have but seldom large fortunes, since the heads of their house commonly require their whole wealth for the support of their own dignity, while on the other hand girls of large fortune are frequently ignorant, insolent or low-born. Kept up by their friends lest they should fall afraid to adventurers, they have no acquaintance with the world and little enlargement from education, their instructions are limited to a few merely youthful accomplishments. The first notion they imbibe is of their own importance, the first lesson they are taught is the value of riches and even from their cradles their little minds are narrowed and their heart is excited by cautions to beware of fortune-hunters and assurances the whole world will be at their feet. Among such should we seek a companion for Mortimer? Surely not. Foreign for domestic happiness and delighting in elegant society his mind would disdain an alliance in which its affections had no share. Cecilia, colouring and trembling, thought now the moment of her trial was approaching, and half mortified and half frightened, with firmness. I venture therefore, my dear Miss Beverly, to speak to you upon this subject as a friend who will have patience to hear my perplexities. You see, upon what they hang, where the birth is such as Mortimer Delville may claim, the fortune generally fails, and where the fortune is adequate to his expectations, the birth yet more frequently would disgrace us. Cecilia, astonished by this speech and quite off her guard from momentary surprise, involuntarily raised her head to look at Mistress Delville, in whose countenance she observed the most anxious concern, though her manner of speaking had seemed placid and composed. Once she continued, without appearing to remark the emotion of her auditor, Mr. Delville thought of uniting him with his cousin Lady Honoria, but he never could endure the proposal, and who shall blame his repugnance? Her sister, indeed Lady Euphrasia, is much preferable, her education has been better, but her fortune is much more considerable. At present, however, Mortimer seems greatly averse to her, and who has a right to be difficult if we deny it to him? Wonder, uncertainty, expectation, and suspense now all attack Cecilia, and all harassed her with redoubled violence. Why she was called to this conference she knew not, the approbation she had thought so certain she doubted, and the proposal of assistance she had apprehended was the least to think would be offered. Some fearful mystery, some cruel obscurity still clouded all her prospects and not merely obstructed her view of the future, but made what was immediately before her gloomy and indistinct. The state of her mind seemed red by Mr. Delville, who examined her with eyes of such penetrating keenness that they rather made discoveries than inquiries. She was silent some time and looked irresolute had to proceed, but at length she arose taking Cecilia by the hand who almost drew it back from her dread of what would follow, she said, I will torment you no more my sweet young friend with perplexities which you cannot relieve. This only I will say and then drop the subject forever. When my solicitude for Mortimer is removed and he is established to the satisfaction of us all, no care will remain in the heart of his mother half so fervent, so anxious and so sincere as amiable Cecilia, for whose welfare and happiness my wishes are even maternal. She then kissed her glowing cheek and perceiving her almost stupefied with astonishment, spared her any effort to speak by hastily leaving her in possession of her room. Undeceived in her expectations and chilled in her hopes, the heart of Cecilia no longer struggled to sustain its dignity or conceal its tenderness. The conflict was at an end. Delville had been open, though her son was mysterious, but in removing her doubts she had bereft her of her peace. She now found her own mistake in building upon her approbation. She saw nothing was less in her intentions and that even when most ardent and affectionate regard she separated her interest from that of her son as if their union was a matter of utter impossibility. Yet why, cried Cecilia, oh why is it deemed so, that she loves me she is ever eager to proclaim that my fortune would be peculiarly useful she makes not a secret and that I, at least, should start no insuperable objections she has alas, but too obviously discovered, has she doubts of her son? No, she has too much discernment. The father, then, the haughty impracticable father has destined him for some woman of rank and will listen to no other alliance. This notion somewhat soothed her disappointment she suffered, yet to know herself betrayed to Mistress Delville and to see no other consequence ensue but that of exciting a tender compassion which led her to discourage, from benevolence, hopes too high to be indulged, was a mortification so severe that it caused her a deeper depression of spirits than any occurrence of her life had yet occasioned. What Henrietta Belfield is to me, she cried, I am to me is disgraceful and unworthy, and this is the situation which so long I have desired. This is the change of habitation which I thought would make me so happy. Oh, who can choose? Who can judge for himself? Who can point out the road to his own felicity or decide upon the spot where his peace will be ensured? Still, however, she had something to do, some spirit to exert and some fortitude to manifest. Mortimer, she was certain, suspected not his own power. His mother, she knew, was both too good and too wise to reveal it to him, and she determined, by caution and firmness, upon his leave-taking and departure, to retrieve, if possible, that credit with Mistress Delville which she feared her betrayed susceptibility had weakened. As soon, therefore, as she recovered from her consternation, she quitted Mistress Delville's apartment and, seeking Lady Henrietta herself, determined not a moment alone till Mortimer was gone, lest the sadness of her reflections should overpower her resolution and give a melancholy to her air and manner which he might attribute with but too much justice to concern upon his own account. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Amanda Heineman. At dinner, with the assistance of Lord Ernoff, who was most happy to give it, Cecilia seemed tolerably easy. Lord Durford, too, encouraged by his father, endeavored to engage some share of her attention, but he totally failed. Her mind was superior to little arts of coquetry, and her pride had too much dignity to evaporate in peak. She determined, therefore, at this time, as at all others, to be consistent in chewing him, he had no chance of her favor. She, when they were again assembled, Mortimer's journey was the only subject of discourse, and it was agreed that he should set out very early in the morning, and, as the weather was extremely hot, not travel at all in the middle of the day. Lady Honoria then, in a whisper to Cecilia, said, I suppose, Miss Beverly, you will rise with the lark tomorrow morning. For your health, I mean. Early rising, you know, is vastly good for you. Cecilia, affecting not to understand her, said, she should rise she's supposed at her usual time. I'll tell Mortimer, however, returned her ladieship to look up at your window before he goes off, for if he will play Romeo, you, I dare say, will play Juliet, and this old castle is quite the thing for the musty family of the Capulets. I dare say Shakespeare thought of it when he wrote of them. Say to him what you please for yourself, Cecilia, but let me entreat you to say nothing for me. And, by Lord Durford, continued she, will make an excessive pretty Paris, for he is vastly in love, though he has got nothing to say. But what shall we do for a Mercutio? We may find five hundred whining Romeos to one gay and charming Mercutio. Besides, Mistress Delville to do her justice is really too good for the old nurse. Though, Delville himself may serve for all the Capulets and all the Montagues at once, for he has pride enough for both their houses, and twenty more of a size. By the way, if I don't take care, I shall have this Romeo run away before I have made my little dainty country Paris pick a quarrel with him. She then walked up to one of the windows, and, motioning Lord Durford to follow her, Cecilia heard her say to him, Well, my Lord, have you read your letter?  No, ma'am, answered the simple young Lord, I have not sent it yet, for I have only read a fowl copy. Oh, my Lord, cried she, that is the very thing you ought to send. A fowl copy of a challenge is always better than a fair one, for it looks written with more agitation. I am vastly glad you mentioned that. And, rising and joining them said, What mischief is Lady Honoria about now? We must all be upon our guards, my Lord, for she has the spirit of diversion that will not spare us. Pray, why do you interfere? cried Lady Honoria, and then, in a lower voice, she added, What do you apprehend?  I don't suppose anything about the matter. Lord Durford, Miss Beverly has been whispering me that if you put this scheme in execution, she shall find you ever after irresistible. Lord Durford, I hope, said Cecilia laughing, is too well acquainted with your ladyship to be in any danger of credulity. Vastly well, cried she, I see you are determined to provoke me, so if you spoil my schemes, I will spoil yours, and tell a certain gentleman your tender life. Cecilia now extremely alarmed, most earnestly entreated her to be quiet, but the discovery of her fright only excited her ladyship's laughter, and with a look the most mischievously wicked, she called out, Pray, Mr. Mortimer, come hither. Mortimer instantly obeyed, and Cecilia at the same moment would with pleasure have endured almost any punishment to have been twenty miles off. Your ladyship, of the utmost consequence to communicate to you, we have been settling an admirable plan for you, will you promise to be guided by us if I tell it to you? Oh, certainly, cried he, to doubt that would disgrace us all round. Well then, Miss Beverly, have you any objection to my proceeding? None at all, answered Cecilia, who had the understanding to know that the greatest excitement to ridicule is well then, I must tell you, she continued, it is the advice of us all that as soon as you come to the possession of your estate, you make some capital alterations in this ancient castle. Cecilia, greatly relieved, could with gratitude have embraced her, and Mortimer, very certain that such rattle was all her own, promised the utmost submission to her orders, and begged her further directions, declaring that he could not at least desire a fairer event. What we mean, said she, may be affected with the utmost ease, it is only to take out these old windows and fix some thick iron grates in their place, and so turn the castle into a gaol for the county. Mortimer laughed heartily at this proposition, but his father, unfortunately hearing it, sternly advanced, and with great austerity said, if I thought my son capable of putting such an insult upon his ancestors, whatever may be the value I feel for him, I would banish him my presence forever. Dear sir, cried Lady Honoria, how would his ancestors ever know it? How? Why, there's a very extraordinary question, Lady Honoria. Besides, sir, I'd say the sheriff or the mayor and corporation, or some of those sort of people, would give him money enough for the use of it to run him up a mighty pretty neat little box somewhere near Ribbon. The box exclaimed he indignantly, a neat little box for the air of an estate such as this. I only mean, cried she giddily, that he might have some place a little more pleasant to live in, for really, that old moat and drawbridge are enough to vapor him to death. I cannot for my life imagine any use thereof unless indeed to frighten away the deer, for nothing else offered to come over. But if you were to turn the house into a gaol. A gaol, cried Mr. Stillmore angrily, your ladieship must pardon me if I entreat you not to mention that word again when you are pleased to speak of Delville Castle. Dear sir, why not? Because it is a term that, in itself, from a young lady, has a sound peculiarly improper, and which, applied to any gentleman's ancient family seat, a thing, Lady Honoria, always respectable, however lightly spoken of, has in effect the least agreeable that can be devised, for it implies an idea, either, that the family or the mansion is going into decay. Well, sir, you know, with regard to the mansion it is certainly very true, for all that other side by the old tower looks as if it would fall upon one's head every time one is forced to pass it. I protest, Lady Honoria, said Mr. Delville, that old tower, of which you are pleased to speak so slidingly, is the most honorable testimony to the antiquity of the castle of any now remaining, and I would not part with it for all the new boxes, as you style them in the kingdom. I am sure I am very glad of it, sir, for I dare say nobody would give even one of them for it. Pardon me, Lady Honoria, you are greatly mistaken.  Such a thing, belonging to a man from his own ancestors, is invaluable. Why, dear sir, what in the world could they do with it unless indeed they were to let some man paint it for an opera scene? A worthy use indeed, cried Mr. Delville, more and more affronted, and pray does your ladyship talk thus to my Lord Duke? Oh, yes, and he never minds it at all. It were strange if he did cried Mistress Delville, my only astonishment is that anybody can be found who does mind it.    Lord, I beg a thousand pardons, cried she, I really did not think of what I was saying. Come, dear Miss Beverly, and walk out with me, for I am too much shocked to stay longer. And then, taking Cecilia by the arm, she hurried her into the park, through a door which led thither from the parlor. For heaven's sake, Lady Honoria, said Cecilia, could you find no better entertainment for Mr. Delville than ridiculing his own house? Oh, cried she, laughing, did you never hear us quarrel before? Why, when I was here last summer, I used to affront him ten times a day. And was that a regular ceremony? No, really I did not do it purposely, but it so happened, either by talking of the castle or the tower or the drawbridge or the fortifications or wishing they were all employed to fill up that odious moat, or something of that sort, for you know a small matter will put him out of humor. And do you call it so small a matter to wish a man's whole habitation annihilated? Lord, I don't wish anything about it, I only say so to provoke him. And what strange pleasure can that give you? Oh, the greatest in the world, I take much delight in seeing anybody in a passion, it makes them look so excessively ugly. And is that the way you like everybody should look, Lady Honoria? Oh, my dear, if you mean me, I never was in a passion twice in my life, for as soon as ever I have provoked the people I always run away. But sometimes I am in a dreadful fright, lest they should see me enough, for they make such hard grimaces it is hardly possible to look at them. When my father has been angry with me, I have sometimes been obliged to pretend I was crying by way of excuse for putting my handkerchief to my face, for really he looks so excessively hideous you would suppose he was making mouths, like the children, merely to frighten one.  Are you not afraid? Oh, never! Oh, what can he do to me, you know? He can only storm a little and swear a little, for he always swears when he is angry, and perhaps order me to my own room, and tend to one, but that happens to be the very thing I want, for we never quarrel, but when we are alone, and then it's so dull, I am always wishing to run away. And can you take no other method of leaving him? Why, I think none so easily, and it can do him no harm, you know. I often tell him, when we make friends, that if it were not for a pastillion and his daughter, he would be quite out of practice in scolding and swearing, for whenever he is upon the road he does nothing else, though why he is in such a hurry nobody can divine, for go with her he will he has nothing to do. Thus ran on this flighty lady, happy in high animal spirits, and careless he was otherwise, till, at some distance they perceived Lord Durford who was approaching to join them. Miss Beverly cried she, here comes your adorer. I shall therefore only walk on till we arrive at that large oak, and then make him prostrate himself at your feet, and leave you together. Your ladyship is extremely good, but I am glad to be apprised of your intention, as you enable me to save you that trouble. She then turned quick back, and passing Lord Durford, who still walked on towards Lady Honoria, she returned to the house, but upon entering the parlor, found all the company dispersed, Delville alone accepted, who was walking about the room with his tablets in his hand, in which he had been riding. From a mixture of shame and surprise, Cecilia at the meeting, but hastening to the door he called out in a reproachful tone. Will you not even enter the same room with me? Oh, yes, cried she, returning, I was only afraid I disturbed you. No, madam, answered he gravely. You are the only person who could not disturb me, since my employment was making memorandums for a letter to yourself, with which, however, I did not desire to impertune you, but that you have denied me, in the last five minutes audience. Cecilia, in the utmost confusion at this attack, knew not whether to stand still or proceed, but as he presently continued his speech, she found she had no choice but to stay.  My displeasure, sir, said Cecilia, died with its occasion. I beg, therefore, that it may rest no longer in your remembrance. I meant not, madam, to infer that the subject, or indeed that the object, merited your deliberate attention. I simply wish to explain what may have appeared mysterious in my conduct, and for what may have seemed still covered from her first apprehensions, and calmed because peaked, by the calmness with which he spoke himself, made no opposition to his request, but suffering him to shut both the door leading into the garden, and that which led into the hall, she seated herself at one of the windows, determined to listen with intrepidity to this long expected explanation. The preparations, however, which he made to opiate being overheard, added to the steadiness with proceedings, soon robbed him of the courage with which he began the assault, and evidently gave him a wish of retreating himself. At length, after much hesitation, he said, this indulgence, madam, deserves my most grateful acknowledgments. It is indeed what I had little right, and still less reason after the severity I have met with from you to expect. And here, at the very mention of severity, his courage called upon by his pride instantly returned, and he went on with the same spirit he had begun. That severity, however, I mean not to lament. On the contrary, in a situation such as mine, it was perhaps the first blessing I could receive. I have found from it, indeed, more advantage and relief than from all that philosophy, reflection, or fortitude could offer. It has shuned me the vanity of bewailing the barrier placed by fate to my wishes, since it has shuned me that another, less inevitable, equally unsuperable, would have opposed them. I have determined therefore after a struggle I must confess the most painful, to deny myself the dangerous solace of your society, and endeavor by joining a dissipation to reason, to forget the too great pleasure which hitherto it has afforded me. Easy, sir, cried Cecilia, will be your task. I can only wish the re-establishment of your health may be found no more difficult. Ah, madam, cried he with a reproachful smile. He gested scars who never felt a wound. But this is a strain in which I have no right to talk, and I will neither offend your delicacy nor my own integrity by endeavoring to work upon the generosity of your disposition in order to excite your compassion. Not such was the motive with which I begged this audience, but merely a desire before I tear myself away, to open to you my heart without palliatation or reserve. He paused a few moments, and Cecilia, finding her suspicions just that this interview was meant to be final, considered that her trial, however severe, would be short, and called forth all her resolution to sustain it with spirit. Long before I had the honor of your acquaintance, he continued, your character and your accomplishments were known to me. Mr. Bidolf of Suffolk, who was my first friend at Oxford, and with whom my intimacy is undiminished, was early sensible of your excellencies. We corresponded, and his letters were filled with your praises. He confessed to me that his admiration had been unfortunate. Alas, I might now make the same confession to him. Mr. Bidolf, among many of the neighbouring gentlemen, had made proposals to the dean for Cecilia, which, at her desire, were rejected. When Mr. Harrell saw masks in Portman Square, my curiosity to behold a lady so adored and so cruel led me thither. Your dress made you easily distinguished. Ah, Miss Beverly, I venture not to mention what I then felt for my friend. I will only say that something which I felt for myself warned me instantly to avoid you, since the claws in your uncle's will was already well known to me. Now, then, at last, thought Cecilia, all perplexity is over. The physical. He inherits all the pride of his family, and therefore to that family will I unrepining leave him. This warning he continued I should not have disregarded. Had I not at the opera been deceived into a belief you were engaged, I then wished no longer to shun you, bound in honour to forbear all efforts at supplanting a man to whom I thought you almost united. I considered you already as married, and eagerly as I sought your marriage, I sought it not with more pleasure than innocence. Yet even then, to be candid, I found in myself arrestlessness about your affairs that kept me in eternal perturbation. But I flattered myself it was mere curiosity, and only excited by the perpetual change of opinion to which occasion gave rise, concerning which was the happy man. I am sorry, said Cecilia Cooley, there was any such mistake. I will not, madam, return by tracing the progress of my unfortunate admiration, will endeavor to be more brief, for I see you are already wearied. He stopped a moment hoping for some little encouragement, but Cecilia in no humour to give it assumed an air of unconcern, and sat wholly quiet. I knew not, he then went on, with a look of extreme mortification. The warmth with which I honoured your virtues till you deigned to plead to me for Mr. But let me not recollect the feelings of that moment, yet were they nothing cold, languid, lifeless to what I afterwards experienced when you undeceived me finally with respect to your situation, and informed me the report concerning Sir Robert Floyer was equally erroneous with that which concerned Balefield. Oh, what was the agitation of my whole soul at that instant, to know you disengaged, to see you before me by the disorder of my whole frame to discover the perished. Cecilia then, half-rising, yet again seating herself, looked extremely impatient to be gone. Pardon me, madam, he cried, I will have done and traced my feelings and my sufferings no longer, but hastened for my own sake as well as yours to the reason why I have spoken at all. From the hour that my ill-distant passion was fully known to myself, I weighed all the consequences of indulging and propriety even in the attempt. My honor in the honor of my family is bound. What to that would seem wrong in me would be unjustifiable, yet where inducements so numerous were opposed by one single objection, where virtue, beauty, education, and family were all unexceptionable. O cruel claws, barbarous and repulsive claws, that forbids my aspiring to the first of women, but by an action that with my own family would lead me for ever. He stopped, overpowered by his own emotion, and Cecilia arose. I see, madam, he cried your eagerness to be gone, and however at this moment I may lament it, I shall recollect it hereafter with advantage. But to conclude, I determined to avoid you and by avoiding to endeavor to forget you. I determined also that no human being, and yourself least of all should know, should even suspect you. Though upon various occasions my prudence and forbearance have suddenly yielded to surprise and to passion, the surrender has been short and almost, I believe, unnoticed. This silence and this avoidance I sustained with decent constancy till during the storm, in an ill-fated moment I saw or thought I saw you in some danger, and then, all caution off-guard, all resolution surprised, every passion awake and tenderness Cecilia angrily, and for what purpose all this? Alas, I know not, said he, with a deep sigh. I thought myself better qualified for this conference, and meant to be firm and concise. I have told my story ill, but as your own understanding will point out the cause, your own benevolence will perhaps urge some excuse. Too certain since that unfortunate accident that all disguise was vain, and convinced by your displeasure of which I had been guilty, I determined, as the only apology I could offer, to open to you my whole heart, and then fly you perhaps forever. This madam, incoherently indeed, yet with sincerity I have now done, my sufferings and my conflicts I do not mention, for I dare not. O were I to paint to you the bitter struggles of a mind all at war with itself, duty, spirit, and fortitude, combating love, happiness, and inclination, each conquering alternately and alternately each vanquished. I could endure it no longer. I resolved by one effort to finish the strife, and to undergo an instant of even exquisite torture in preference to a continuance of such lingering misery. The restoration of your health, sir, and since you fancy it has been injured of your happiness, said Cecilia, well, I hope be as speedy as I doubt not they are afraid, after an avowal such as mine, but why should I wish to convince you of my sincerity when to you it cannot be more indifferent than to myself it is unfortunate. I have now only to entreat your pardon for the robbery I have committed upon your time, and to repeat my acknowledgments that you have endeavored to hear me with patience. If you honor me, sir, with some portion of your esteem, said the offended Cecilia, these acknowledgments perhaps should be mine, suppose therefore I have a letter to write, and can therefore stay no longer. Nor do I presume, madam, cried he proudly, to detain you, hitherto you may frequently have thought me mysterious, sometimes strange and capricious, and perhaps almost always unmeaning. To clear myself from these imputations by a candid confession of the motives which have governed me is all that I wished. Once, also I hope but once, you thought me impertinent, there lest dare vindicate myself. There is no occasion, sir, interrupted she walking towards the door, for further vindication in anything. I am perfectly satisfied, and if my good wishes are worth your acceptance, assure yourself you possess them. Barbarous and insulting cried he have to himself, and then, with a quick motion hastening to open the door for her, go, madam, he added, almost breathless with conflicting emotions, go, and be your happiness unalterable as your inflexibility. Cecilia was turning back to answer this reproach, but the sight of Lady Honoria who was entering at the other door deterred her, and she went on. When she came to her own room she walked about it some time in a state so unsettled between anger and disappointment, sorrow and pride, that she scarce knew to which emotion to give way, and to felt almost bursting with each. The sight is at last thrown, and this affair is concluded forever. Delville himself is content to relinquish me. No father has commanded, no mother has interfered, he has required no admonition, full well enabled to act for himself by the powerful instigation of hereditary arrogance. Yet my family, he says, unexpected condescension, my family and every other circumstance is unexceptionable. How feeble then is that regard which is an only objection. How potent that haughtiness which to nothing will give way. Well, let him keep his name, since so wondrous its property, so all-sufficient its preservation, what vanity, what presumption in me to suppose myself an equivalent for its loss. Thus deeply offended her spirits were supported by resentment, and not only while in company, but when alone she found herself scarce at first to the approaching separation, to endure it without repining. End of Chapter 9 Recorded by Amanda Hindman in Glen, Mississippi www.livinginbooks.blogspot.com