Cecilia the next morning, between nine and ten o’clock, went to St
James’-Square; she found nobody immediately ready to receive her,
but in a short time was waited upon by Mr Delvile.
After the usual salutations, “Miss Beverley,” he said, “I have given
express orders to my people, that I may not be interrupted while I
have the pleasure of passing some minutes in conversation with you
before you are presented to Mrs Delvile.”
And then, with an air of solemnity, he led her to a seat, and having
himself taken possession of another, continued his speech.
“I have received information, from authority which I cannot doubt,
that the indiscretion of certain of your admirers last Saturday at
the Opera-house occasioned a disturbance which to a young woman of
delicacy I should imagine must be very alarming: now as I consider
myself concerned in your fame and welfare from regarding you as my
ward, I think it is incumbent upon me to make enquiries into such of
your affairs as become public; for I should feel in some measure
disgraced myself, should it appear to the world, while you are under
my guardianship, that there was any want of propriety in the
direction of your conduct.”
Cecilia, not much flattered by this address, gravely answered that
she fancied the affair had been misrepresented to him.
“I am not much addicted,” he replied, “to give ear to any thing
lightly; you must therefore permit me to enquire into the merits of
the cause, and then to draw my own inferences. And let me, at the
same time, assure you there is no other young lady who has any right
to expect such an attention from me. I must begin by begging you to
inform me upon what grounds the two gentlemen in question, for such,
by courtesy, I presume they are called, thought themselves entitled
publicly to dispute your favour?”
“My favour, Sir!” cried Cecilia, much amazed.
“My dear,” said he, with a complacency meant to give her courage, “I
know the question is difficult for a young lady to answer; but be
not abashed, I should be sorry to distress you, and mean to the
utmost of my power to save your blushes. Do not, therefore, fear me;
consider me as your guardian, and assure yourself I am perfectly
well disposed to consider you as my ward. Acquaint me, then, freely,
what are the pretensions of these gentlemen?”
“To me, Sir, they have, I believe, no pretensions at all.”
“I see you are shy,” returned he, with encreasing gentleness, “I see
you cannot be easy with me; and when I consider how little you are
accustomed to me, I do not wonder. But pray take courage; I think it
necessary to inform myself of your affairs, and therefore I beg you
will speak to me with freedom.”
Cecilia, more and more mortified by this humiliating condescension,
again assured him he had been misinformed, and was again, though
discredited, praised for her modesty, when, to her great relief,
they were interrupted by the entrance of her friend the white
domino.
“Mortimer,” said Mr Delvile, “I understand you have already had the
pleasure of seeing this young lady?”
“Yes, Sir,” he answered, “I have more than once had that happiness,
but I have never had the honour of being introduced to her.”
“Miss Beverley, then,” said the father, “I must present to you Mr
Mortimer Delvile, my son; and, Mortimer, in Miss Beverley I desire
you will remember that you respect a ward of your father’s.”
“I will not, Sir,” answered he, “forget an injunction my own
inclinations had already out-run.”
Mortimer Delvile was tall and finely formed, his features, though
not handsome, were full of expression, and a noble openness of
manners and address spoke the elegance of his education, and the
liberality of his mind.
When this introduction was over, a more general conversation took
place, till Mr Delvile, suddenly rising, said to Cecilia, “You will
pardon me, Miss Beverley, if I leave you for a few minutes; one of
my tenants sets out to-morrow morning for my estate in the North,
and he has been two hours waiting to speak with me. But if my son is
not particularly engaged, I am sure he will be so good as to do the
honours of the house till his mother is ready to receive you.”
And then, graciously waving his hand, he quitted the room.
“My father,” cried young Delvile, “has left me an office which,
could I execute it as perfectly as I shall willingly, would be
performed without a fault.”
“I am very sorry,” said Cecilia, “that I have so much mistaken your
hour of breakfast; but let me not be any restraint upon you, I shall
find a book, or a newspaper, or something to fill up the time till
Mrs Delvile honours me with a summons.”
“You can only be a restraint upon me,” answered he, “by commanding
me from your presence. I breakfasted long ago, and am now just come
from Mr Belfield. I had the pleasure, this morning, of being
admitted into his room.”
“And how, Sir, did you find him?”
“Not so well, I fear, as he thinks himself; but he was in high
spirits, and surrounded by his friends, whom he was entertaining
with all the gaiety of a man in full health, and entirely at his
ease; though I perceived, by the frequent changes of his
countenance, signs of pain and indisposition, that made me, however
pleased with his conversation, think it necessary to shorten my own
visit, and to hint to those who were near me the propriety of
leaving him quiet.”
“Did you see his surgeon, Sir?”
“No; but he told me he should only have one dressing more of his
wound, and then get rid of the whole business by running into the
country.”
“Were you acquainted with him, Sir, before this accident?”
“No, not at all; but the little I have seen of him has strongly
interested me in his favour: at Mr Harrel’s masquerade, where I
first met with him, I was extremely entertained by his humour,—
though there, perhaps, as I had also the honour of first seeing Miss
Beverley, I might be too happy to feel much difficulty in being
pleased. And even at the Opera he had the advantage of finding me in
the same favourable disposition, as I had long distinguished you
before I had taken any notice of him. I must, however, confess I did
not think his anger that evening quite without provocation,—but I
beg your pardon, I may perhaps be mistaken, and you, who know the
whole affair, must undoubtedly be better able to account for what
happened.”
Here he fixed his eyes upon Cecilia, with a look of curiosity that
seemed eager to penetrate into her sentiments of the two
antagonists.
“No, certainly,” she answered, “he had all the provocation that ill-breeding could give him.”
“And do you, madam,” cried he, with much surprize, “judge of this
matter with such severity?”
“No, not with severity, simply with candour.”
“With candour? alas, then, poor Sir Robert! Severity were not half
so bad a sign for him!”
A servant now came in, to acquaint Cecilia that Mrs Delvile waited
breakfast for her.
This summons was immediately followed by the re-entrance of Mr
Delvile, who, taking her hand, said he would himself present her to
his lady, and with much graciousness assured her of a kind
reception.
The ceremonies preceding this interview, added to the character she
had already heard of Mrs Delvile, made Cecilia heartily wish it
over; but, assuming all the courage in her power, she determined to
support herself with a spirit that should struggle against the
ostentatious superiority she was prepared to expect.
She found her seated upon a sofa, from which, however, she arose at
her approach; but the moment Cecilia beheld her, all the
unfavourable impressions with which she came into her presence
immediately vanished, and that respect which the formalities of her
introduction had failed to inspire, her air, figure, and countenance
instantaneously excited.
She was not more than fifty years of age; her complection, though
faded, kept the traces of its former loveliness, her eyes, though
they had lost their youthful fire, retained a lustre that evinced
their primeval brilliancy, and the fine symmetry of her features,
still uninjured by the siege of time, not only indicated the
perfection of her juvenile beauty, but still laid claim to
admiration in every beholder. Her carriage was lofty and commanding;
but the dignity to which high birth and conscious superiority gave
rise, was so judiciously regulated by good sense, and so happily
blended with politeness, that though the world at large envied or
hated her, the few for whom she had herself any regard, she was
infallibly certain to captivate.
The surprise and admiration with which Cecilia at the first glance
was struck proved reciprocal: Mrs Delvile, though prepared for youth
and beauty, expected not to see a countenance so intelligent, nor
manners so well formed as those of Cecilia: thus mutually astonished
and mutually pleased, their first salutations were accompanied by
looks so flattering to both, that each saw in the other, an
immediate prepossession in her favour, and from the moment that they
met, they seemed instinctively impelled to admire.
“I have promised Miss Beverley, madam,” said Mr Delvile to his lady,
“that you would give her a kind reception; and I need not remind you
that my promises are always held sacred.”
“But I hope you have not also promised,” cried she, with quickness,
“that I should give you a kind reception, for I feel at this
very moment extremely inclined to quarrel with you.”
“Why so, madam?”
“For not bringing us together sooner; for now I have seen her, I
already look back with regret to the time I have lost without the
pleasure of knowing her.”
“What a claim is this,” cried young Delvile, “upon the benevolence
of Miss Beverley! for if she has not now the indulgence by frequent
and diligent visits to make some reparation, she must consider
herself as responsible for the dissension she will occasion.”
“If peace depends upon my visits,” answered Cecilia, “it may
immediately be proclaimed; were it to be procured only by my
absence, I know not if I should so readily agree to the conditions.”
“I must request of you, madam,” said Mr Delvile, “that when my son
and I retire, you will bestow half an hour upon this young lady, in
making enquiries concerning the disturbance last Saturday at the
Opera-house. I have not, myself, so much time to spare, as I have
several appointments for this morning; but I am sure you will not
object to the office, as I know you to be equally anxious with
myself, that the minority of Miss Beverley should pass without
reproach.”
“Not only her minority, but her maturity,” cried young Delvile,
warmly, “and not only her maturity, but her decline of life will
pass, I hope, not merely without reproach, but with fame and
applause!”
“I hope so too;” replied Mr Delvile: “I wish her well through every
stage of her life, but for her minority alone it is my business to
do more than wish. For that, I feel my own honour and my own credit
concerned; my honour, as I gave it to the Dean that I would
superintend her conduct, and my credit, as the world is acquainted
with the claim she has to my protection.”
“I will not make any enquiries,” said Mrs Delvile, turning to
Cecilia with a sweetness that recompensed her for the haughtiness of
her guardian, “till I have had some opportunity of convincing Miss
Beverley, that my regard for her merits they should be answered.”
“You see, Miss Beverley,” said Mr Delvile, “how little reason you
had to be afraid of us; Mrs Delvile is as much disposed in your
favour as myself, and as desirous to be of service to you.
Endeavour, therefore, to cast off this timidity, and to make
yourself easy. You must come to us often; use will do more towards
removing your fears, than all the encouragement we can give you.”
“But what are the fears,” cried Mrs Delvile, “that Miss Beverley can
have to remove? unless, indeed, she apprehends her visits will make
us encroachers, and that the more we are favoured with her presence,
the less we shall bear her absence.”
“Pray, son,” said Mr Delvile, “what was the name of the person who
was Sir Robert Floyer’s opponent? I have again forgotten it.”
“Belfield, sir.”
“True; it is a name I am perfectly unacquainted with: however, he
may possibly be a very good sort of man; but certainly his opposing
himself to Sir Robert Floyer, a man of some family, a gentleman,
rich, and allied to some people of distinction, was a rather strange
circumstance: I mean not, however, to prejudge the case; I will hear
it fairly stated; and am the more disposed to be cautious in what I
pronounce, because I am persuaded Miss Beverley has too much sense
to let my advice be thrown away upon her.”
“I hope so, Sir; but with respect to the disturbance at the Opera, I
know not that I have the least occasion to trouble you.”
“If your measures,” said he, very gravely, “are already taken, the
Dean your uncle prevailed upon me to accept a very useless office;
but if any thing is yet undecided, it will not, perhaps, be amiss
that I should be consulted. Mean time, I will only recommend to you
to consider that Mr Belfield is a person whose name nobody has
heard, and that a connection with Sir Robert Floyer would certainly
be very honourable for you.”
“Indeed, Sir,” said Cecilia, “here is some great mistake; neither of
these gentlemen, I believe, think of me at all.”
“They have taken, then,” cried young Delvile with a laugh, “a very
extraordinary method to prove their indifference!”
“The affairs of Sir Robert Floyer,” continued Mr Delvile, “are
indeed, I am informed, in some disorder; but he has a noble estate,
and your fortune would soon clear all its incumbrances. Such an
alliance, therefore, would be mutually advantageous: but what would
result from a union with such a person as Mr Belfield? he is of no
family, though in that, perhaps, you would not be very scrupulous;
but neither has he any money; what, then, recommends him?”
“To me, Sir, nothing!” answered Cecilia.
“And to me,” cried young Delvile, “almost every thing! he has wit,
spirit, and understanding, talents to create admiration, and
qualities, I believe, to engage esteem!”
“You speak warmly,” said Mrs Delvile; “but if such is his character,
he merits your earnestness. What is it you know of him?”
“Not enough, perhaps,” answered he, “to coolly justify my praise;
but he is one of those whose first appearance takes the mind by
surprise, and leaves the judgment to make afterwards such terms as
it can. Will you, madam, when he is recovered, permit me to
introduce him to you?”
“Certainly;” said she, smiling; “but have a care your recommendation
does not disgrace your discernment.”
“This warmth of disposition, Mortimer,” cried Mr Delvile, “produces
nothing but difficulties and trouble: you neglect the connections I
point out, and which a little attention might render serviceable as
well as honourable, and run precipitately into forming such as can
do you no good among people of rank, and are not only profitless in
themselves, but generally lead you into expence and inconvenience.
You are now of an age to correct this rashness: think, therefore,
better of your own consequence, than thus idly to degrade yourself
by forming friendships with every shewy adventurer that comes in
your way.”
“I know not, Sir,” answered he, “how Mr Belfield deserves to be
called an adventurer: he is not, indeed, rich; but he is in a
profession where parts such as his seldom fail to acquire riches;
however, as to me his wealth can be of no consequence, why should my
regard to him wait for it? if he is a young man of worth and
honour—”
“Mortimer,” interrupted Mr Delvile, “whatever he is, we know he is
not a man of rank, and whatever he may be, we know he cannot become
a man of family, and consequently for Mortimer Delvile he is no
companion. If you can render him any service, I shall commend your
so doing; it becomes your birth, it becomes your station in life to
assist individuals, and promote the general good: but never in your
zeal for others forget what is due to yourself, and to the ancient
and honourable house from which you are sprung.”
“But can we entertain Miss Beverley with nothing better than family
lectures?” cried Mrs Delvile.
“It is for me,” said young Delvile, rising, “to beg pardon of Miss
Beverley for having occasioned them: but when she is so good as to
honour us with her company again, I hope I shall have more
discretion.”
He then left the room; and Mr Delvile also rising to go, said, “My
dear, I commit you to very kind hands; Mrs Delvile, I am sure, will
be happy to hear your story; speak to her, therefore, without
reserve. And pray don’t imagine that I make you over to her from any
slight; on the contrary, I admire and commend your modesty very
much; but my time is extremely precious, and I cannot devote so much
of it to an explanation as your diffidence requires.”
And then, to the great joy of Cecilia, he retired; leaving her much
in doubt whether his haughtiness or his condescension humbled her
most.
“These men,” said Mrs Delvile, “can never comprehend the pain of a
delicate female mind upon entering into explanations of this sort: I
understand it, however, too well to inflict it. We will, therefore,
have no explanations at all till we are better acquainted, and then
if you will venture to favour me with any confidence, my best
advice, and, should any be in my power, my best services shall be at
your command.”
“You do me, madam, much honour,” answered Cecilia, “but I must
assure you I have no explanation to give.”
“Well, well, at present,” returned Mrs Delvile, “I am content to
hear that answer, as I have acquired no right to any other: but
hereafter I shall hope for more openness: it is promised me by your
countenance, and I mean to claim the promise by my friendship.”
“Your friendship will both honour and delight me, and whatever are
your enquiries, I shall always be proud to answer them; but indeed,
with regard to this affair—”
“My dear Miss Beverley,” interrupted Mrs Delvile, with a look of
arch incredulity, “men seldom risk their lives where an escape is
without hope of recompence. But we will not now say a word more upon
the subject. I hope you will often favour me with your company, and
by the frequency of your visits, make us both forget the shortness
of our acquaintance.”
Cecilia, finding her resistance only gave birth to fresh suspicion,
now yielded, satisfied that a very little time must unavoidably
clear up the truth. But her visit was not therefore shortened; the
sudden partiality with which the figure and countenance of Mrs
Delvile had impressed her, was quickly ripened into esteem by the
charms of her conversation: she found her sensible, well bred, and
high spirited, gifted by nature with superior talents, and polished
by education and study with all the elegant embellishments of
cultivation. She saw in her, indeed, some portion of the pride she
had been taught to expect, but it was so much softened by elegance,
and so well tempered with kindness, that it elevated her character,
without rendering her manners offensive.
With such a woman, subjects of discourse could never be wanting, nor
fertility of powers to make them entertaining: and so much was
Cecilia delighted with her visit, that though her carriage was
announced at twelve o’clock, she reluctantly concluded it at two;
and in taking her leave, gladly accepted an invitation to dine with
her new friend three days after; who, equally pleased with her young
guest, promised before that time to return her visit.
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