The day following this happy intellectual arrangement, Cecilia was
visited by Mr Monckton. That gentleman, who had enquired for her
immediately after the Harrels went to their villa, and who had
flattered himself with reaping much advantage from their absence, by
frequent meetings and confidential discourses, suffered the severest
mortification when he found that her stay in town rendered her not
the less inaccessible to him, since he had no personal acquaintance
with the Delviles, and could not venture to present himself at their
house.
He was now received by her with more than usual pleasure; the time
had seemed long to her since she had conversed with him, and she was
eager to ask his counsel and assistance in her affairs. She related
to him the motives which had induced her to go to St James’-square,
and the incorrigible obstinacy with which Mr Harrel still continued
to encourage the addresses of Sir Robert Floyer; she earnestly
entreated him to become her agent in a business to which she was
unequal, by expostulating in her cause with Mr Harrel, and by
calling upon Sir Robert himself to insist upon his foregoing his
unauthorised pretensions.
Mr Monckton listened eagerly to her account and request, and when
she had finished, assured her he would deliberate upon each
circumstance of the affair, and then maturely weigh every method he
could devise, to extricate her from an embarrassment which now grew
far too serious to be safely neglected.
“I will not, however,” continued he, “either act or give my opinion
without further enquiry, as I am confident there is a mystery in
this business which lies deeper than we can at present fathom. Mr
Harrel has doubtless purposes of his own to answer by this pretended
zeal for Sir Robert; nor is it difficult to conjecture what they may
be. Friendship, in a man of his light cast, is a mere cover, a mere
name, to conceal a connection which has its basis solely in the
licentious convenience of borrowing money, going to the same gaming
house, and mutually communicating and boasting their mutual vices
and intrigues, while, all the time, their regard for each other is
equally hollow with their regard for truth and integrity.”
He then cautioned her to be extremely careful with respect to any
money transactions with Mr Harrel, whose splendid extravagance he
assured her was universally known to exceed his fortune.
The countenance of Cecilia during this exhortation was testimony
sufficient to the penetrating eyes of Mr Monckton that his advice
came not too soon: a suspicion of the real state of the case
speedily occurred to him, and he questioned her minutely upon the
subject. She endeavoured to avoid making him any answer, but his
discernment was too keen for her inartificial evasion, and he very
soon gathered all the particulars of her transactions with Mr
Harrel.
He was less alarmed at the sum she had lent him, which was rather
within his expectations, than at the method she had been induced to
take to procure it. He represented to her in the strongest manner
the danger of imposition, nay of ruin, from the extortions and the
craft of money-lenders; and he charged her upon no consideration to
be tempted or persuaded again to have recourse to such perilous
expedients.
She promised the most attentive observance of his advice: and then
told him the acquaintance she had made with Miss Belfield, and her
sorrow for the situation of her brother; though, satisfied for the
present with the plan of young Delvile, she now gave up her design
of soliciting his counsel.
In the midst of this conversation, a note was delivered to her from
Mr Delvile senior, acquainting her with his return to town, and
begging the favour of her to call in St James’s-square the next
morning, as he wished to speak to her upon some business of
importance.
The eager manner in which Cecilia accepted this invitation, and her
repeated and earnest exclamation of wonder at what Mr Delvile could
have to say, past not unnoticed by Mr Monckton; he instantly turned
the discourse from the Belfields, the Harrels, and the Baronet, to
enquire how she had spent her time during her visit in St James’s-square, and what was her opinion of the family after her late
opportunities of intimacy?
Cecilia answered that she had yet seen nothing more of Mr Delvile,
who had been absent the whole time, but with equal readiness and
pleasure she replied to all his questions concerning his lady,
expatiating with warmth and fervour upon her many rare and estimable
qualities.
But when the same interrogatories were transferred to the son, she
spoke no longer with the same ease, nor with her usual promptitude
of sincerity; she was embarrassed, her answers were short, and she
endeavoured to hasten from the subject.
Mr Monckton remarked this change with the most apprehensive
quickness, but, forcing a smile, “Have you yet,” he said, “observed
the family compact in which those people are bound to besiege you,
and draw you into their snares?”
“No, indeed,” cried Cecilia, much hurt by the question, “I am sure
no such compact has been formed; and I am sure, too, that if you
knew them better, you would yourself be the first to admire and do
them justice.”
“My dear Miss Beverley,” cried he, “I know them already; I do not,
indeed, visit them, but I am perfectly acquainted with their
characters, which have been drawn to me by those who are most
closely connected with them, and who have had opportunities of
inspection which I hope will never fall to your share, since I am
satisfied the trial would pain, though the proof would convince
you.”
“What then have you heard of them?” cried Cecilia, with much
earnestness: “It is, at least, not possible any ill can be said of
Mrs Delvile.”
“I beg your pardon,” returned he. “Mrs Delvile is not nearer
perfection than the rest of her family, she has only more art in
disguising her foibles; because, tho’ she is the daughter of pride,
she is the slave of interest.”
“I see you have been greatly misinformed,” said Cecilia warmly; “Mrs
Delvile is the noblest of women! she may, indeed, from her very
exaltation, have enemies, but they are the enemies of envy, not of
resentment, enemies raised by superior merit, not excited by injury
or provocation!”
“You will know her better hereafter;” said Mr Monckton calmly, “I
only hope your knowledge will not be purchased by the sacrifice of
your happiness.”
“And what knowledge of her, Sir,” cried Cecilia, starting, “can have
power to put my happiness in any danger?”
“I will tell you,” answered he, “with all the openness you have a
claim to from my regard, and then leave to time to shew if I am
mistaken. The Delvile family, notwithstanding its ostentatious
magnificence, I can solemnly assure you, is poor in every branch,
alike lineal and collateral.”
“But is it therefore the less estimable?”
“Yes, because the more rapacious. And while they count on each side
Dukes, Earls and Barons in their genealogy, the very wealth with
which, through your means, they project the support of their
insolence, and which they will grasp with all the greediness of
avarice, they will think honoured by being employed in their
service, while the instrument, all amiable as she is, by which they
attain it, will be constantly held down as the disgrace of their
alliance.”
Cecilia, stung to the soul by this speech, rose from her chair,
unwilling to answer it, yet unable to conceal how much it shocked
her. Mr Monckton, perceiving her emotion, followed her, and taking
her hand, said, “I would not give this warning to one I thought too
weak to profit from it; but as I am well informed of the use that is
meant to be made of your fortune, and the abuse that will follow of
yourself, I think it right to prepare you for their artifices, which
merely to point out, may render abortive.”
Cecilia, too much disturbed to thank him, drew back her hand, and
continued silent. Mr Monckton, reading through her displeasure the
state of her affections, saw with terror the greatness of the danger
which threatened him. He found, however, that the present was no
time for enforcing objections, and perceiving he had already gone
too far, though he was by no means disposed to recant, he thought it
most prudent to retreat, and let her meditate upon his exhortation
while its impression was yet strong in her mind.
He would now, therefore, have taken leave; but Cecilia, endeavouring
to recollect herself, and fully persuaded that however he had
shocked her, he had only her interest in view, stopt him, saying,
“You think me, perhaps, ungrateful, but believe me I am not; I must,
however, acknowledge that your censure of Mrs Delvile hurts me
extremely. Indeed I cannot doubt her worthiness, I must still,
therefore, plead for her, and I hope the time may come when you will
allow I have not pleaded unjustly.”
“Justly or unjustly,” answered Mr Monckton, “I am at least sure you
can never plead vainly. I give up, therefore, to your opinion my
attack of Mrs Delvile, and am willing from your commendations to
suppose her the best of the race. Nay, I will even own that perhaps
Mr Delvile himself, as well as his lady, might pass through life and
give but little offence, had they only themselves to think of, and
no son to stimulate their arrogance.”
“Is the son, then,” said Cecilia faintly, “so much the most
culpable?”
“The son, I believe,” answered he, “is at least the chief incentive
to insolence and ostentation in the; parents, since it is for his
sake they covet with such avidity honours and riches, since they
plume themselves upon regarding him as the support of their name
and, family, and since their pride in him even surpasses their pride
in their lineage and themselves.”
“Ah!” thought Cecilia, “and of such a son who could help being
proud!”
“Their purpose, therefore,” he continued, “is to, secure through his
means your fortune, which they will no sooner obtain, than, to my
certain knowledge, they mean instantly, and most unmercifully, to
employ it in repairing all their dilapidated estates.”
And then he quitted the subject; and, with that guarded warmth which
accompanied all his expressions, told her he would carefully watch
for her honour and welfare, and, repeating his promise of
endeavouring to discover the tie by which Mr Harrel seemed bound to
the Baronet, he left her—a prey himself to an anxiety yet more
severe than that with which he had filled her! He now saw all his
long cherished hopes in danger of final destruction, and suddenly
cast upon the brink of a precipice, where, while he struggled to
protect them from falling, his eyes were dazzled by beholding them
totter.
Mean while Cecilia, disturbed from the calm of soft serenity to
which she had yielded every avenue of her soul, now looked forward
with distrust and uneasiness, even to the completion of the views
which but a few minutes before had comprised all her notions of
felicity. The alliance which so lately had seemed wholly
unexceptionable, now appeared teeming with objections, and
threatening with difficulties. The representations of Mr Monckton
had cruelly mortified her; well acquainted with his knowledge of the
world, and wholly unsuspicious of his selfish motives, she gave to
his assertions involuntary credit, and even while she attempted to
combat them, they made upon her mind an impression scarce ever to be
erased.
Full, therefore, of doubt and inquietude, she passed the night in
discomfort and irresolution, now determining to give way to her
feelings, and now to be wholly governed by the counsel of Mr
Monckton.
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