In this disposition of mind Cecilia the next morning obeyed the
summons of Mr Delvile, and for the first time went to St James’-square in a humour to look for evil instead of good, and meanness
instead of nobleness.
She was shewn into an apartment where she found Mr Delvile alone,
and was received by him, as usual, with the most stately solemnity.
When she was seated, “I have given you, Miss Beverley,” said he,
“the trouble of calling, in order to discuss with you the internal
state of your affairs; a duty which, at this juncture, I hold to be
incumbent upon my character. The delicacy due to your sex would
certainly have induced me to wait upon you myself for this purpose,
but for the reasons I have already hinted to you, of fearing the
people with whom you live might think it necessary to return my
visit. Persons of low origin are commonly in those matters the most
forward. Not, however, that I would prejudice you against them;
though, for myself, it is fit I remember that a general and
indiscriminate acquaintance, by levelling all ranks, does injury to
the rites of society.”
Ah! thought Cecilia, how infallible is Mr Monckton! and how
inevitably, in a family of which Mr Delvile is the head, should I be
cruelly held down, as the disgrace of their alliance!
“I have applied,” continued he, “to Mrs Delvile, to know if the
communication which I had recommended to you, and to which she had
promised her attention, had yet passed; but I am informed you have
not spoken to her upon the subject.”
“I had nothing, Sir, to communicate,” answered Cecilia, “and I had
hoped, as Mrs Delvile made no enquiries, she was satisfied she had
nothing to hear.”
“With respect to enquiries,” said Mr Delvile, “I fear you are not
sufficiently aware of the distance between a lady of Mrs Delvile’s
rank, both by birth and alliance, and such a young woman as Mrs
Harrel, whose ancestors, but a short time since, were mere Suffolk
farmers. But I beg your pardon;—I mean not any reflection upon
yours: I have always heard they were very worthy people. And a
farmer is certainly a very respectable person. Your father, I think,
no more than the Dean your uncle, did nothing in that way himself?”
“No, Sir,” said Cecilia, drily, and much provoked by this
contemptuous courtesy.
“I have always been told he was a very good sort of man: I knew none
of the family myself, but the Dean. His connections with the Bishop
of ———, my relation, put him often in my way. Though his naming
me for one of his trustees, I must own, was rather extraordinary;
but I mean not to hurt you; on the contrary, I should be much
concerned to give you any uneasiness.”
Again Mr Monckton arose in the mind of Cecilia, and again she
acknowledged the truth of his strictures; and though she much
wondered in what an harangue so pompous was to end, her disgust so
far conquered her curiosity, that without hearing it, she wished
herself away.
“To return,” said he, “to my purpose. The present period of your
life is such as to render advice particularly seasonable; I am
sorry, therefore, as I before said, you have not disclosed your
situation to Mrs Delvile. A young lady on the point of making an
establishment, and with many engagements in her power, is extremely
liable to be mistaken in her judgment, and therefore should solicit
instruction from those who are able to acquaint her what connection
would be most to her advantage. One thing, however, I am happy to
commend, the young man who was wounded in the duel—I cannot
recollect his name—is, I hear, totally out of the question.”
What next? thought Cecilia; though still she gave him no
interruption, for the haughtiness of his manner was repulsive to
reply.
“My design, therefore, is to speak to you of Sir Robert Floyer. When
I had last the pleasure of addressing you upon this subject, you may
probably remember my voice was in his favour; but I then regarded
him merely as the rival of an inconsiderable young man, to rescue
you from whom he appeared an eligible person. The affair is now
altered, that young man is thought of no more, and another rival
comes forward, to whom Sir Robert is as inconsiderable as the first
rival was to Sir Robert.”
Cecilia started at this information, livelier sensations stimulated
her curiosity, and surmises in which she was most deeply interested
quickened her attention.
“This rival,” proceeded he, “I should imagine no young lady would a
moment hesitate in electing; he is every way the superior of Sir
Robert except in fortune, and the deficiencies of that the splendour
of your own may amply supply.”
The deepest crimson now tinged the cheeks of Cecilia; the prophecy
of Mr Monckton seemed immediately fulfilling, and she trembled with
a rising conflict between her approbation of the offer, and her
dread of its consequences.
“I know not, indeed,” continued he, “in what estimation you may have
been accustomed to hold rank and connection, nor whether you are
impressed with a proper sense of their superiority and value; for
early prejudices are not easily rooted out, and those who have lived
chiefly with monied people, regard even birth itself as unimportant
when compared with wealth.”
The colour which first glowed in the cheeks of Cecilia from
expectation, now rose yet higher from resentment: she thought
herself already insulted by a prelude so ostentatious and
humiliating to the proposals which were to follow; and she angrily
determined, with whatever pain to her heart, to assert her own
dignity by refusing them at once, too well satisfied by what she now
saw of the present, that Mr Monckton had been just in his prediction
of the future.
“Your rejection, therefore,” continued he, “of this honourable
offer, may perhaps have been merely the consequence of the
principles in which you have been educated.—”
“Rejection?” interrupted Cecilia, amazed, “what rejection, Sir?”
“Have you not refused the proposals of my Lord Ernolf for his son?”
“Lord Ernolf? never! nor have I ever seen either his Lordship or his
son but in public.”
“That,” replied Mr Delvile, “is little to the purpose; where the
connexion is a proper one, a young lady of delicacy has only to
accede to it. But though this rejection came not immediately from
yourself, it had doubtless your concurrence.”
“It had not, Sir, even my knowledge.”
“Your alliance then with Sir Robert Floyer is probably nearer a
conclusion than I had imagined, for otherwise Mr Harrel would not,
without consulting you, have given the Earl so determinate an
answer.”
“No, Sir,” said Cecilia, impatiently, “my alliance with him was
never more distant, nor do I mean it should ever approach more
near.”
She was now little disposed for further conversation. Her heroic
design of refusing young Delvile by no means reconciled her to the
discovery she now made that he had not meant to address her; and
though she was provoked and fretted at this new proof that Mr Harrel
scrupled neither assertions nor actions to make her engagement with
Sir Robert credited, her disappointment in finding that Mr Delvile,
instead of pleading the cause of his son, was exerting his interest
for another person, affected her so much more nearly, that
notwithstanding he still continued his parading harangue, she
scarcely knew even the subject of his discourse, and seized the
first opportunity of a cessation to rise and take her leave.
He asked her if she would not call upon Mrs Delvile; but desirous to
be alone, she declined the invitation; he then charged her to
proceed no further with Sir Robert till he had made some enquiries
concerning Lord Ernolf, and graciously promising his protection and
counsel, suffered her to depart.
Cecilia now perceived she might plan her rejections, or study her
dignity at her leisure, for neither Mr Delvile nor his son seemed in
any haste to put her fortitude to the proof. With regard, therefore,
to their plots and intentions, Mr Monckton she found was wrong, but
with respect to their conduct and sentiments, she had every reason
to believe him right: and though her heart refused to rejoice in
escaping a trial of its strength, her judgment was so well convinced
that his painting was from the life, that she determined to conquer
her partiality for young Delvile, since she looked forward to
nothing but mortification in a connexion with his family.
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