The next morning Dr Lyster called early, and having visited Mrs
Delvile, and again met the two gentlemen of the faculty in whose care
she was to remain, he took his leave. But not without contriving first
to speak a few words to Cecilia in private, in which he charged her to
be careful of her health, and re-animate her spirits. “Don’t suppose,”
said he, “that because I am a friend of the Delvile family, I am either
blind to your merits, or to their foibles, far from it; but then why
should they interfere with one another? Let them keep their prejudices,
which, though different, are not worse than their neighbours, and do
you retain your excellencies, and draw from them the happiness they
ought to give you. People reason and refine themselves into a thousand
miseries, by chusing to settle that they can only be contented one way;
whereas, there are fifty ways, if they would but look about them, that
would commonly do as well.” “I believe, indeed, you are right,”
answered Cecilia, “and I thank you for the admonition; I will do what I
can towards studying your scheme of philosophy, and it is always one
step to amendment, to be convinced that we want it.”
“You are a sensible and charming girl,” said Dr Lyster, “and Mr
Delvile, should he find a daughter-in-law descended in a right line
from Egbert, first king of all England, won’t be so well off as if he
had satisfied himself with you. However, the old gentleman has a fair
right, after all, to be pleased his own way, and let us blame him how
we will, we shall find, upon sifting, it is for no other reason but
because his humour happens to clash with our own.”
“That, indeed,” said Cecilia, smiling, “is a truth incontrovertible!
and a truth to which, for the future, I will endeavour to give more
weight. But will you permit me now to ask one question?—Can you tell
me from whom, how, or when the intelligence which has caused all this
disturbance—”
She hesitated, but, comprehending her readily, he answered “How they
got at it, I never heard, for I never thought it worth while to
enquire, as it is so generally known, that nobody I meet with seems
ignorant of it.”
This was another, and a cruel shock to Cecilia, and Dr Lyster,
perceiving it, again attempted to comfort her. “That the affair is
somewhat spread,” said he, “is now not to be helped, and therefore
little worth thinking of; every body will agree that the choice of both
does honour to both, and nobody need be ashamed to be successor to
either, whenever the course of things leads Mr Mortimer and yourself to
make another election. He wisely intends to go abroad, and will not
return till he is his own man again. And as to you, my good young lady,
what, after a short time given to vexation, need interrupt your
happiness? You have the whole world before you, with youth, fortune,
talents, beauty and independence; drive, therefore, from your head this
unlucky affair, and remember there can hardly be a family in the
kingdom, this one excepted, that will not rejoice in a connection with
you.”
He then good-humouredly shook hands with her, and went into his chaise.
Cecilia, though not slow in remarking the ease and philosophy with
which every one can argue upon the calamities, and moralize upon the
misconduct of others, had still the candour and good sense to see that
there was reason in what he urged, and to resolve upon making the best
use in her power of the hints for consolation she might draw from his
discourse.
During the following week, she devoted herself almost wholly to Mrs
Delvile, sharing with the maid, whom she had brought with her from the
Castle, the fatigue of nursing her, and leaving to the Miss Charltons
the chief care of their grandmother. For Mrs Delvile appeared every
hour more sensible of her attention, and more desirous of her presence,
and though neither of them spoke, each was endeared to the other by the
tender offices of friendship which were paid and received.
When this week was expired, Dr Lyster was prevailed upon to return
again to Bury, in order to travel himself with Mrs Delvile to Bristol.
“Well,” cried he, taking Cecilia by the first opportunity aside, “how
are you? Have you studied my scheme of philosophy, as you promised me?”
“O yes,” said she, “and made, I flatter myself, no little proficiency.”
“You are a good girl,” cried he, “a very extraordinary girl! I am sure
you are; and upon my honour I pity poor Mortimer with all my soul! But
he is a noble young fellow, and behaves with a courage and spirit that
does me good to behold. To have obtained you, he would have moved
heaven and earth, but finding you out of his reach, he submits to his
fate like a man.”
Cecilia’s eyes glistened at this speech; “Yes,” said she, “he long
since said ’tis suspence, ’tis hope, that make the misery of life,—
for there the Passions have all power, and Reason has none. But when
evils are irremediable, and we have neither resources to plan, nor
castle-building to delude us, we find time for the cultivation of
philosophy, and flatter ourselves, perhaps, that we have found
inclination!”
“Why you have considered this matter very deeply,” said he; “but I must
not have you give way to these serious reflections. Thought, after all,
has a cruel spite against happiness; I would have you, therefore, keep
as much as you conveniently can, out of its company. Run about and
divert yourself, ’tis all you have for it. The true art of happiness in
this most whimsical world, seems nothing more nor less than this—Let
those who have leisure, find employment, and those who have business,
find leisure.”
He then told her that Mr Delvile senior was much better, and no longer
confined to his room: and that he had had the pleasure of seeing an
entire reconciliation take place between him and his son, of whom he
was more fond and more proud than any other father in the universe.”
“Think of him, however, my dear young lady,” he continued, “no more,
for the matter I see is desperate: you must pardon my being a little
officious, when I confess to you I could not help proposing to the old
gentleman an expedient of my own; for as I could not drive you out of
my head, I employed myself in thinking what might be done by way of
accommodation. Now my scheme was really a very good one, only when
people are prejudiced, all reasoning is thrown away upon them. I
proposed sinking both your names, since they are so at variance with
one another, and so adopting a third, by means of a title. But Mr
Delvile angrily declared, that though such a scheme might do very well
for the needy Lord Ernolf, a Peer of twenty years, his own noble
ancestors should never, by his consent, forfeit a name which so many
centuries had rendered honourable. His son Mortimer, he added, must
inevitably inherit the title of his grandfather, his uncle being old
and unmarried; but yet he would rather see him a beggar, than lose his
dearest hope that Delvile, Lord Delvile, would descend, both name
and title, from generation to generation unsullied and uninterrupted.”
“I am sorry, indeed,” said Cecilia, “that such a proposal was made, and
I earnestly entreat that none of any sort may be repeated.”
“Well, well,” said he, “I would not for the world do any mischief, but
who would not have supposed such a proposal would have done good?”
“Mr Mortimer,” he then added, “is to meet us at—for he would not, he
said, come again to this place, upon such terms as he was here last
week, for the whole worth of the king’s dominions.”
The carriage was now ready, and Mrs Delvile was prepared to depart.
Cecilia approached to take leave of her, but Dr Lyster following, said
“No talking! no thanking! no compliments of any sort! I shall carry off
my patient without permitting one civil speech, and for all the
rudeness I make her guilty of, I am willing to be responsible.”
Cecilia would then have retreated, but Mrs Delvile, holding out both
her hands, said “To every thing else, Dr Lyster, I am content to
submit; but were I to die while uttering the words, I cannot leave this
inestimable creature without first saying how much I love her, how I
honour, and how I thank her! without entreating her to be careful of
her health, and conjuring her to compleat the greatness of her conduct,
by not suffering her spirits to sink from the exertion of her virtue.
And now my love, God bless you!”
She then embraced her, and went on; Cecilia, at a motion of Dr
Lyster’s, forbearing to follow her.
“And thus,” cried she, when they were gone, “thus ends all my
connection with this family! which it seems as if I was only to have
known for the purpose of affording a new proof of the insufficiency of
situation to constitute happiness. Who looks not upon mine as the
perfection of human felicity?—And so, perhaps, it is, for it may be
that Felicity and Humanity are never permitted to come nearer.”
And thus, in philosophic sadness, by reasoning upon the universality of
misery, she restrained, at least, all violence of sorrow, though her
spirits were dejected, and her heart was heavy.
But the next day brought with it some comfort that a little lightened
her sadness; Mrs Charlton, almost wholly recovered, was able to go down
stairs, and Cecilia had at least the satisfaction of seeing an happy
conclusion to an illness of which, with the utmost concern and regret,
she considered herself as the cause. She attended her with the most
unremitting assiduity, and being really very thankful, endeavoured to
appear happy, and flattered herself that, by continual effort, the
appearance in a short time would become reality.
Mrs Charlton retired early, and Cecilia accompanied her up stairs: and
while she was with her, was informed that Mr Monckton was in the
parlour.
The various, afflicting, and uncommon scenes in which she had been
engaged since she last saw him, had almost wholly driven him from her
remembrance, or when at any time he recurred to it, it was only to
attribute the discontinuance of his visits to the offence she had given
him, in refusing to follow his advice by relinquishing her London
expedition.
Full, therefore, of the mortifying transactions which had passed since
their parting, and fearful of his enquiries into disgraces he had
nearly foretold, she heard him announced with chagrin, and waited upon
him in the most painful confusion.
Far different were the feelings of Mr Monckton; he read in her
countenance the dejection of disappointment, which impressed upon his
heart the vivacity of hope: her evident shame was to him secret
triumph, her ill-concealed sorrow revived all his expectations.
She hastily began a conversation by mentioning her debt to him, and
apologising for not paying it the moment she was of age. He knew but
too well how her time had been occupied, and assured her the delay was
wholly immaterial.
He then led to an enquiry into the present situation of her affairs;
but unable to endure a disquisition, which could only be productive of
censure and mortification, she hastily stopt it, exclaiming, “Ask me
not, I entreat you, Sir, any detail of what has passed,—the event has
brought me sufferings that may well make blame be dispensed with;—I
acknowledge all your wisdom, I am sensible of my own error, but the
affair is wholly dropt, and the unhappy connection I was forming is
broken off for-ever!”
Little now was Mr Monckton’s effort in repressing his further
curiosity, and he started other subjects with readiness, gaiety and
address. He mentioned Mrs Charlton, for whom he had not the smallest
regard; he talked to her of Mrs Harrel, whose very existence was
indifferent to him; and he spoke of their common acquaintance in the
country, for not one of whom he would have grieved, if assured of
meeting no more. His powers of conversation were enlivened by his
hopes; and his exhilarated spirits made all subjects seem happy to him.
A weight was removed from his mind which had nearly borne down even his
remotest hopes; the object of his eager pursuit seemed still within his
reach, and the rival into whose power he had so lately almost beheld
her delivered, was totally renounced, and no longer to be dreaded. A
revolution such as this, raised expectations more sanguine than ever;
and in quitting the house, he exultingly considered himself released
from every obstacle to his views—till, just as he arrived home, he
recollected his wife!
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