Cecilia was informed the next morning that a young woman begged to
speak with her, and upon sending for her up stairs, she saw, to her
great surprise, Miss Belfield.
She came in fear and trembling, sent, she said, by her mother, to
entreat her pardon for what had passed the preceding day; “But I know,
madam,” she added, “you cannot pardon it, and therefore all that I
mean to do is to clear my brother from any share in what was said, for
indeed he has too much sense to harbour any such presumption; and to
thank you with a most grateful heart for all the goodness you have
shewn us.”
And then, modestly courtsying, she would have returned home; but
Cecilia, much touched by her gentleness, took her hand, and kindly
reviving her by assurances of esteem, entreated that she would
lengthen her stay.
“How good is this, madam,” said she, “after having so much reason to
think so ill of me and of all of us I tried all in my power to
undeceive my mother, or at least to keep her quiet; but she was so
much persuaded she was right, that she never would listen to me, and
always said, did I suppose it was for me you condescended to
come so often?”
“Yes,” answered Cecilia, “most undoubtedly; had I not known you,
however well I might have wished your brother, I should certainly not
have visited at his house. But I am very happy to hear the mistake had
spread no further.”
“No indeed, madam, I never once thought of it; and as to my brother,
when my mother only hinted it to him, he was quite angry. But though I
don’t mean to vindicate what has happened, you will not, I hope, be
displeased if I say my mother is much more pardonable than she seems
to be, for the same mistake she made with you, she would have been as
apt to have made with a princess; it was not, therefore, from any want
of respect, but merely from thinking my brother might marry as high as
he pleased, and believing no lady would refuse him, if he would but
have the courage to speak.”
Cecilia assured her she would think no more of the error, but told her
that to avoid its renewal, she must decline calling upon her again
till her brother was gone. She begged therefore to see her in Portman-square whenever she had leisure, repeatedly assuring her of her good
opinion and regard, and of the pleasure with which she should seize
every opportunity of skewing them.
Delighted by a reception so kind, Miss Belfield remained with her all
the morning; and when at last she was obliged to leave her, she was
but too happy in being solicited to repeat her visit.
She suffered one day only to elapse before she skewed her readiness to
accept the friendship that was offered her; and Cecilia, much pleased
by this eagerness, redoubled her efforts to oblige and to serve her.
From this time, hardly a day passed in which she did not call in
Postman-square, where nothing in her reception was omitted that could
contribute to her contentment. Cecilia was glad to employ her mind in
any way that related not to Delvile, whom she now earnestly
endeavoured to think of no more, denying herself even the pleasure of
talking of him with Miss Belfield, by the name of her brother’s
noble friend.
During this time she devised various methods, all too delicate to give
even the shadow of offence, for making both useful and ornamental
presents to her new favourite, with whom she grew daily more
satisfied, and to whom she purposed hereafter offering a residence in
her own house.
The trial of intimacy, so difficult to the ablest to stand, and from
which even the most’ faultless are so rarely acquitted, Miss Belfield
sustained with honour. Cecilia found her artless, ingenuous, and
affectionate; her understanding was good, though no pains had been
taken to improve it; her disposition though ardent was soft, and her
mind seemed informed by intuitive integrity.
She communicated to Cecilia all the affairs of her family, disguising
from her neither distress nor meanness, and seeking to palliate
nothing but the grosser parts of the character of her mother. She
seemed equally ready to make known to her even the most chosen secrets
of her own bosom, for that such she had was evident, from a frequent
appearance of absence and uneasiness which she took but little trouble
to conceal. Cecilia, however, trusted not herself, in the present
critical situation of her own mind, with any enquiries that might lead
to a subject she was conscious she ought not to dwell upon: a short
time, she hoped, would totally remove her suspence; but as she had
much less reason to expect good than evil, she made it her immediate
study to prepare for the worst, and therefore carefully avoided all
discourse that by nourishing her tenderness, might weaken her
resolution.
While thus, in friendly conversation and virtuous forbearance, passed
gravely, but not unhappily, the time of Cecilia, the rest of the house
was very differently employed: feasting, revelling, amusements of all
sorts were pursued with more eagerness than ever, and the alarm which
so lately threatened their destruction, seemed now merely to heighten
the avidity with which they were sought. Yet never was the disunion of
happiness and diversion more striking and obvious; Mr Harrel, in spite
of his natural levity, was seized from time to time with fits of
horror that embittered his gayest moments, and cast a cloud upon all
his enjoyments. Always an enemy to solitude, he now found it wholly
insupportable, and ran into company of any sort, less from a hope of
finding entertainment, than from a dread of spending half an hour by
himself.
Cecilia, who saw that his rapacity for pleasure encreased with his
uneasiness, once more ventured to speak with his lady upon the subject
of reformation; counselling her to take advantage of his present
apparent discontent, which showed at least some sensibility of his
situation, in order to point out to him the necessity of an immediate
inspection into his affairs, which, with a total change in his way of
life, was her only chance for snatching him from the dismal
despondency into which he was sinking.
Mrs Harrel declared herself unequal to following this advice, and said
that her whole study was to find Mr Harrel amusement, for he was grown
so ill-humoured and petulant she quite feared being alone with him.
The house therefore now was more crowded than ever, and nothing but
dissipation was thought of. Among those who upon this plan were
courted to it, the foremost was Mr Morrice, who, from a peculiar
talent of uniting servility of conduct with gaiety of speech, made
himself at once so agreeable and useful in the family, that in a short
time they fancied it impossible to live without him. And Morrice,
though his first view in obtaining admittance had been the cultivation
of his acquaintance with Cecilia, was perfectly satisfied with the
turn that matters had taken, since his utmost vanity had never led him
to entertain any matrimonial hopes with her, and he thought his
fortune as likely to profit from the civility of her friends as of
herself. For Morrice, however flighty, and wild, had always at heart
the study of his own interest; and though from a giddy forwardness of
disposition he often gave offence, his meaning and his serious
attention was not the less directed to the advancement of his own
affairs: he formed no connection from which he hoped not some benefit,
and he considered the acquaintance and friendship of his superiors in
no other light than that of procuring him sooner or later
recommendations to new clients.
Sir Robert Floyer also was more frequent than ever in his visits, and
Mr Harrel, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Cecilia, contrived
every possible opportunity of giving him access to her. Mrs Harrel
herself, though hitherto neutral, now pleaded his cause with
earnestness; and Mr Arnott, who had been her former refuge from this
persecution, grew so serious and so tender in his devoirs, that unable
any longer to doubt the sentiments she had inspired, she was compelled
even with him to be guarded and distant.
She now with daily concern looked back to the sacrifice she had made
to the worthless and ungrateful Mr Harrel, and was sometimes tempted
to immediately chuse another guardian, and leave his house for ever:
yet the delicacy of her disposition was averse to any step that might
publicly expose him, and her early regard for his wife would not
suffer her to put it in execution.
These circumstances contributed strongly to encrease her intimacy with
Miss Belfield; she now never saw Mrs Delvile, whom alone she preferred
to her, and from the troublesome assiduity of Sir Robert, scarce ever
met Mr Monckton but in his presence: she found, therefore, no resource
against teazing and vexation, but what was afforded her by the
conversation of the amiable Henrietta.
Nguồn: Wikisource English — Cecilia (Burney)/Book 5/Chapter iii. Văn bản được nhập và định dạng lại; CC BY-SA 4.0, có thể áp dụng điều khoản bổ sung của tác phẩm.