CHAPTER iii. -- AN INCIDENT.
The spirits of Cecilia, however, internally failed her; she consideredher separation from Delvile to be now, in all probability, for life,since she saw that no struggle either of interest, inclination, orhealth, could bend him from his purpose; his mother, too, seemed toregard his name and his existence as equally valuable, and the scruplesof his father she was certain would be still more insurmountable. Herown pride, excited by theirs, made her, indeed, with more anger thansorrow, see this general consent to abandon her; but pride and angerboth failed when she considered the situation of his health; sorrow,there, took the lead, and admitted no partner; it represented him toher not only as lost to herself, but to the world; and so sad grew herreflections, and so heavy her heart, that, to avoid from Mrs Charltonobservations which pained her, she stole into a summer-house in thegarden the moment she had done tea, declining any companion but heraffectionate Fidel.
Her tenderness and her sorrow found here a romantic consolation, incomplaining to him of the absence of his master, his voluntary exile,and her fears for his health; calling upon him to participate in hersorrow, and lamenting that even this little relief would soon be deniedher; and that in losing Fidel no vestige of Mortimer, but in her ownbreast, would remain; "Go, then, dear Fidel," she cried, "carry back toyour master all that nourishes his remembrance! Bid him not love you theless for having some time belonged to Cecilia; but never may his proudheart be fed with the vain glory of knowing how fondly for his sake shehas cherished you! Go, dear Fidel, guard him by night, and follow himby day; serve him with zeal, and love him with fidelity;--oh that hishealth were invincible as his pride!--there, alone, is he vulnerable--"
Here Fidel, with a loud barking, suddenly sprang away from her, and, asshe turned her eyes towards the door to see what had thus startled him,she beheld standing there, as if immoveable, young Delvile himself!
Her astonishment at this sight almost bereft her of her understanding;it appeared to her supernatural, and she rather believed it was hisghost than himself. Fixed in mute wonder, she stood still thoughterrified, her eyes almost bursting from their sockets to be satisfiedif what they saw was real.
Delvile, too, was some time speechless; he looked not at her, indeed,with any doubt of her existence, but as if what he had heard was to himas amazing as to her what she saw. At length, however, tormented by thedog, who jumpt up to him, licked his hands, and by his rapturous joyforced himself into notice, he was moved to return his caresses, saying,"Yes, dear Fidel! you have a claim indeed to my attention, and with thefondest gratitude will I cherish you ever!"
At the sound of his voice, Cecilia again began to breathe; and Delvilehaving quieted the dog, now entered the summer-house, saying, as headvanced, "Is this possible!--am I not in a dream?--Good God! is itindeed possible!"
The consternation of doubt and astonishment which had seized everyfaculty of Cecilia, now changed into certainty that Delvile indeedwas present, all her recollection returned as she listened, to thisquestion, and the wild rambling of fancy with which she had incautiouslyindulged her sorrow, rushing suddenly upon her mind, she felt herselfwholly overpowered by consciousness and shame, and sunk, almostfainting, upon a window-seat.
Delvile instantly flew to her, penetrated with gratitude, and filledwith wonder and delight, which, however internally combated bysensations less pleasant, were too potent for controul, and he pouredforth at her feet the most passionate acknowledgments.
Cecilia, surprised, affected, and trembling with a thousand emotions,endeavoured to break from him and rise; but, eagerly detaining her, "No,loveliest Miss Beverley," he cried, "not thus must we now part! thismoment only have I discovered what a treasure I was leaving; and, butfor Fidel, I had quitted it in ignorance for ever."
"Indeed," cried Cecilia, in the extremest agitation, "indeed you maybelieve me Fidel is here quite by accident.--Lady Honoria took himaway,--I knew nothing of the matter,--she stole him, she sent him, shedid every thing herself."
"O kind Lady Honoria!" cried Delvile, more and more delighted, "howshall I ever thank her!--And did she also tell you to caress and tocherish him?--to talk to him of his master--"
"O heaven!" interrupted Cecilia, in an agony of mortification and shame,"to what has my unguarded folly reduced me!" Then again endeavouring tobreak from him, "Leave me, Mr Delvile," she cried, "leave me, or let mepass!--never can I see you more!--never bear you again in my sight!"
"Come, dear Fidel!" cried he, still detaining her, "come and plead foryour master! come and ask in his name who now has a proud heart, whosepride now is invincible!"
"Oh go!" cried Cecilia, looking away from him while she spoke, "repeatnot those hateful words, if you wish me not to detest myself eternally!"
"Ever-lovely Miss Beverley," cried he, more seriously, "why thisresentment? why all this causeless distress? Has not my heart longsince been known to you? have you not witnessed its sufferings, andbeen assured of its tenderness? why, then, this untimely reserve?this unabating coldness? Oh why try to rob me of the felicity you haveinadvertently given me! and to sour the happiness of a moment thatrecompenses such exquisite misery!"
"Oh Mr Delvile!" cried she, impatiently, though half softened, "was thishonourable or right? to steal upon me thus privately--to listen to methus secretly--"
"You blame me," cried he, "too soon; your own friend, Mrs Charlton,permitted me to come hither in search of you;--then, indeed, when Iheard the sound of your voice--when I heard that voice talk of Fidel--ofhis master--"
"Oh stop, stop!" cried she; "I cannot support the recollection! there isno punishment, indeed, which my own indiscretion does not merit,--but Ishall have sufficient in the bitterness of self-reproach!"
"Why will you talk thus, my beloved Miss Beverley? what have youdone,--what, let me ask, have I done, that such infinite disgraceand depression should follow this little sensibility to a passion sofervent? Does it not render you more dear to me than ever? does it notadd new life, new vigour, to the devotion by which I am bound to you?"
"No, no," cried the mortified Cecilia, who from the moment she foundherself betrayed, believed herself to be lost, "far other is the effectit will have! and the same mad folly by which I am ruined in my ownesteem, will ruin me in yours!--I cannot endure to think of it!--whywill you persist in detaining me?--You have filled me with anguish andmortification,--you have taught me the bitterest of lessons, that ofhating and contemning myself!"
"Good heaven," cried he, much hurt, "what strange apprehensions thusterrify you? are you with me less safe than with yourself? is it myhonour you doubt? is it my integrity you fear? Surely I cannot be solittle known to you; and to make protestations now, would but give a newalarm to a delicacy already too agitated.--Else would I tell you thatmore sacred than my life will I hold what I have heard, that the wordsjust now graven on my heart, shall remain there to eternity unseen;and that higher than ever, not only in my love, but my esteem, is thebeautiful speaker."--
"Ah no!" cried Cecilia, with a sigh, "that, at least, is impossible, forlower than ever is she sunk from deserving it!"
"No," cried he, with fervour, "she is raised, she is exalted! I find hermore excellent and perfect than I had even dared believe her; I discovernew virtues in the spring of every action; I see what I took forindifference, was dignity; I perceive what I imagined the most rigidinsensibility, was nobleness, was propriety, was true greatness ofmind!"
Cecilia was somewhat appeased by this speech; and, after a littlehesitation, she said, with a half smile, "Must I thank you for thisgood-nature in seeking to reconcile me with myself?--or shall I quarrelwith you for flattery, in giving me praise you can so little think Imerit?"
"Ah!" cried he, "were I to praise as I think of you! were my languagepermitted to accord with my opinion of your worth, you would not thensimply call me a flatterer, you would tell me I was an idolater, andfear at least for my principles, if not for my understanding."
"I shall have but little right, however," sai
d Cecilia, again rising,"to arraign your understanding while I act as if bereft of my own.Now, at least, let me pass; indeed you will greatly displease me by anyfurther opposition."
"Will you suffer me, then, to see you early to-morrow morning?"
"No, Sir; nor the next morning, nor the morning after that! This meetinghas been wrong, another would be worse; in this I have accusation enoughfor folly,--in another the charge would be far more heavy."
"Does Miss Beverley, then," cried he gravely, "think me capable ofdesiring to see her for mere selfish gratification? of intending totrifle either with her time or her feelings? no; the conference I desirewill be important and decisive. This night I shall devote solely todeliberation; to-morrow shall be given to action. Without some thinkingI dare venture at no plan;--I presume not to communicate to you thevarious interests that divide me, but the result of them all I can takeno denial to your hearing."
Cecilia, who felt when thus stated the justice of his request, nowopposed it no longer, but insisted upon his instantly departing.
"True," cried he, "I must go!--the longer I stay, the more I amfascinated, and the weaker are those reasoning powers of which I nowwant the strongest exertion." He then repeated his professions ofeternal regard, besought her not to regret the happiness she hadgiven him, and after disobeying her injunctions of going till shewas seriously displeased, he only stayed to obtain her pardon, andpermission to be early the next morning, and then, though still slowlyand reluctantly, he left her.
Scarce was Cecilia again alone, but the whole of what had passed seemeda vision of her imagination. That Delvile should be at Bury, thathe should visit her at Mrs Charlton's, surprise her by herself,and discover her most secret thoughts, appeared so strange and soincredible, that, occupied rather by wonder than, thinking, shecontinued almost motionless in the place where he had left her, till MrsCharlton sent to request that she would return to the house. She thenenquired if any body was with her, and being answered in the negative,obeyed the summons.
Mrs Charlton, with a smile of much meaning, hoped she had had a pleasantwalk; but Cecilia seriously remonstrated on the dangerous imprudenceshe had committed in suffering her to be so unguardedly surprised. MrsCharlton, however, more anxious for her future and solid happiness, thanfor her present apprehensions and delicacy, repented not the step shehad taken; and when she gathered from Cecilia the substance of what hadpast, unmindful of the expostulations which accompanied it, she thoughtwith exultation that the sudden meeting she had permitted, would now, bymaking known to each their mutual affection, determine them to defer nolonger a union upon which their mutual peace of mind so much depended.And Cecilia, finding she had been thus betrayed designedly, notinadvertently, could hardly reproach her zeal, though she lamented itsindiscretion.
She then asked by what means he had obtained admission, and made himselfknown; and heard that he had enquired at the door for Miss Beverley,and, having sent in his name, was shewn into the parlour, where MrsCharlton, much pleased with his appearance, had suddenly conceivedthe little plan which she had executed, of contriving a surprise forCecilia, from which she rationally expected the very consequences thatensued, though the immediate means she had not conjectured.
The account was still unsatisfactory to Cecilia, who could frame toherself no possible reason for a visit so extraordinary, and so totallyinconsistent with his declarations and resolutions.
This, however, was a matter of but little moment, compared with theother subjects to which the interview had given rise; Delvile, upon whomso long, though secretly, her dearest hopes of happiness had rested, wasnow become acquainted with his power, and knew himself the master of herdestiny; he had quitted her avowedly to decide what it should be, sincehis present subject of deliberation included her fate in his own; thenext morning he was to call, and acquaint her with his decree, notdoubting her concurrence which ever way be resolved.
A subjection so undue, and which she could not but consider asdisgraceful, both shocked and afflicted her; and the reflection that theman who of all men she preferred, was acquainted with her preference,yet hesitated whether to accept or abandon her, mortified and provokedher, alternately, occupied her thoughts the whole night, and kept herfrom peace and from rest.