To regain it, said Mrs Delvile, were to exercise but half your power, which at this moment enables you, if such is your wish, to make me think of you more highly than one human being ever thought of another. Do you condescend to hold this worth your while?
Cecilia started at the question; her heart beat quick with struggling passions; she saw the sacrifice which was to be required, and her pride, her affronted pride, arose high to anticipate the rejection; but the design was combated by her affections, which opposed the indignant rashness, and told her that one hasty speech might separate her from Delvile for ever. When this painful conflict was over, of which Mrs Delvile patiently waited the issue, she answered, with much hesitation, To regain your good opinion, madam, greatly, truly as I value it,is what I now scarcely dare hope.
Say not so, cried she, since, if you hope, you cannot miss it. I purpose to point out to you the means to recover it, and to tell you how greatly I shall think myself your debtor if you refuse not to employ them.
She stopt; but Cecilia hung back; fearful of her own strength, she dared venture at no professions; yet, how either to support, or dispute her compliance, she dreaded to think.
I come to you, then, Mrs Delvile solemnly resumed, in the name of Mr Delvile, and in the name of our whole family; a family as ancient as it is honourable, as honourable as it is ancient. Consider me as its representative, and hear in me its common voice, common opinion, and common address.
My son, the supporter of our house, the sole guardian of its name, and the heir of our united fortunes, has selected you, we know, for the lady of his choice, and so fondly has, fixed upon you his affections, that he is ready to relinquish us all in preference to subduing them. To yourself alone, then, can we apply, and I come to you
O hold, madam, hold! interrupted Cecilia, whose courage now revived from resentment, I know, what you would say; you come to tell me of your disdain; you come to reproach my presumption, and to kill me with your contempt! There is little occasion for such a step; I am depressed, I am self-condemned already; spare me, therefore, this insupportable humiliation, wound me not with your scorn, oppress me not with your superiority! I aim at no competition, I attempt no vindication, I acknowledge my own littleness as readily as you can despise it, and nothing but indignity could urge me to defend it!
Believe me, said Mrs Delvile, I meant not to hurt or offend you, and I am sorry if I have appeared to you either arrogant or assuming. The peculiar and perilous situation of my family has perhaps betrayed me into offensive expressions, and made me guilty myself of an ostentation which in others has often disgusted me. Ill, indeed, can we any of us bear the test of experiment, when tried upon those subjects which call forth our particular propensities. We may strive to be disinterested, we may struggle to be impartial, but self will still predominate, still shew us the imperfection of our natures, and the narrowness of our souls. Yet acquit me, I beg, of any intentional insolence, and imagine not that in speaking highly of my own family, I, mean to depreciate yours: on the contrary, I know it to be respectable, I know, too, that were it the lowest in the kingdom, the first might envy it that it gave birth to such a daughter.
Cecilia, somewhat soothed by this speech, begged her pardon for having interrupted her, and she proceeded.
To your family, then, I assure you, whatever may be the pride of our own, you being its offspring, we would not object. With your merit we are all well acquainted, your character has our highest esteem, and your fortune exceeds even our most sanguine desires. Strange at once and afflicting! that not all these requisites for the satisfaction of prudence, nor all these allurements for the gratification of happiness, can suffice to fulfil or to silence the claims of either! There are yet other demands to which we must attend, demands which ancestry and blood call upon us aloud to ratify! Such claimants are not to be neglected with impunity; they assert their rights with the authority of prescription, they forbid us alike either to bend to inclination, or stoop to interest, and from generation to generation their injuries will call out for redress, should their noble and long unsullied name be voluntarily consigned to oblivion!
Cecilia, extremely struck by these words, scarce wondered, since so strong and so established were her opinions, that the obstacle to her marriage, though but one, should be considered as insuperable.
Not, therefore, to your name are we averse, she continued, but simply to our own more partial. To sink that, indeed, in any other, were base and unworthy:what, then, must be the shock of my disappointment, should Mortimer Delvile, the darling of my hopes, the last survivor of his house, in whose birth I rejoiced as the promise of its support, in whose accomplishments I gloried, as the revival of its lustre,should he, should, my son be the first to abandon it! to give up the name he seemed born to make live, and to cause in effect its utter annihilation!Oh how should I know my son when an alien to his family! how bear to think I had cherished in my bosom the betrayer of its dearest interests, the destroyer of its very existence!
Cecilia, scarce more afflicted than offended, now hastily answered, Not for me, madam, shall he commit this crime, not on my account shall he be reprobated by his family! Think of him, therefore, no more, with any reference to me, for I would not be the cause of unworthiness or guilt in him to be mistress of the universe!
Nobly said! cried Mrs Delvile, her eyes sparkling with joy, and her cheeks glowing with pleasure, now again do I know Miss Beverley! now again see the refined, the excellent young woman, whose virtues taught me to expect the renunciation even of her own happiness, when found to be incompatible with her duty!
Cecilia now trembled and turned pale; she scarce knew herself what she had said, but, she found by Mrs Delviles construction of her words, they had been regarded as her final relinquishing of her son. She ardently wished to quit the room before she was called upon to confirm the sentence, but, she had not courage to make the effort, nor to rise, speak, or move.
I grieve, indeed, continued Mrs Delvile, whose coldness and austerity were changed into mildness and compassion, at the necessity I have been under to draw from you a concurrence so painful: but no other resource was in my power. My influence with Mortimer, whatever it may be, I have not any right to try, without obtaining your previous consent, since I regard him myself as bound to you in honour, and only to be released by your own virtuous desire. I will leave you, however, for my presence, I see, is oppressive to you. Farewell; and when you can forgive me, I think you will.
I have nothing, madam, said Cecilia, coldly, to forgive; you have only asserted your own dignity, and I have nobody to blame but myself, for having given you occasion.
Alas, cried Mrs Delvile, if worth and nobleness of soul on your part, if esteem and tenderest affection on mine, were all which that dignity which offends you requires, how should I crave the blessing of such a daughter! how rejoice in joining my son to excellence so like his own, and ensuring his happiness while I stimulated his virtue!
Do not talk to me of affection, madam, said Cecilia, turning away from her; whatever you had for me is past,even your esteem is gone,you may pity me, indeed, but your pity is mixed with contempt, and I am not so abject as to find comfort from exciting it.
Do not talk to me of affection, madam, said Cecilia, turning away from her; whatever you had for me is past,even your esteem is gone,you may pity me, indeed, but your pity is mixed with contempt, and I am not so abject as to find comfort from exciting it.
O little, cried Mrs Delvile, looking at her with the utmost tenderness, little do you see the state of my heart, for never have you appeared to me so worthy as at this moment! In tearing you from my son, I partake all the wretchedness I give, but your own sense of duty must something plead for the strictness with which I act up to mine.
She then moved towards the door.
Is your carriage, madam, said Cecilia, struggling to disguise her inward anguish under an appearance of sullenness, in waiting?
Mrs Delvile then came back, and holding out her hand, while her eyes glistened with tears, said, To part from you thus frigidly, while my heart so warmly admires you, is almost more than I can endure. Oh gentlest Cecilia! condemn not a mother who is impelled to this severity, who performing what she holds to be her duty, thinks the office her bitterest misfortune, who forsees in the rage of her husband, and the resistance of her son, all the misery of domestic contention, and who can only secure the honour of her family by destroying its peace!You will not, then, give me your hand?
Cecilia, who had affected not to see that she waited for it, now coldly put it out, distantly [courtseying], and seeking to preserve her steadiness by avoiding to speak. Mrs Delvile took it, and as she repeated her adieu, affectionately pressed it to her lips; Cecilia, starting, and breathing short, from encreasing yet smothered agitation, called out Why, why this condescension?pray,I entreat you, madam!
Heaven bless you, my love! said Mrs Delvile, dropping a tear upon the hand she still held, heaven bless you, and restore the tranquillity you so nobly deserve!
Ah madam! cried Cecilia, vainly striving to repress any longer the tears which now forced their way down her cheeks, why will you break my heart with this kindness! why will you still compel me to love!when now I almost wish to hate you!
No, hate me not, said Mrs Delvile, kissing from her cheeks the tears that watered them, hate me not, sweetest Cecilia, though in wounding your gentle bosom, I am almost detestable to myself. Even the cruel scene which awaits me with my son will not more deeply afflict me. But adieu,I must now prepare for him!
She then left the room: but Cecilia, whose pride had no power to resist this tenderness, ran hastily after her, saying Shall I not see you again, madam?
You shall yourself decide, answered she; if my coming will not give you more pain than pleasure, I will wait upon you whenever you please.
Cecilia sighed and paused; she knew not what to desire, yet rather wished any thing to be done, than quietly to sit down to uninterrupted reflection.
Shall I postpone quitting this place, continued Mrs Delvile, till to-morrow morning, and will you admit me this afternoon, should I call upon you again?
I should be sorry, said she, still hesitating, to detain you,
You will rejoice me, cried Mrs Delvile, by bearing me in your sight.
And she then went into her carriage.
Cecilia, unfitted to attend her old friend, and unequal to the task of explaining to her the cruel scene in which she had just been engaged, then hastened to her own apartment. Her hitherto stifled emotions broke forth in tears and repinings: her fate was finally determined, and its determination was not more unhappy than humiliating; she was openly rejected by the family whose alliance she was known to wish; she was compelled to refuse the man of her choice, though satisfied his affections were her own. A misery so peculiar she found hard to support, and almost bursting with conflicting passions, her heart alternately swelled from offended pride, and sunk from disappointed tenderness.
CHAPTER iv. A PERTURBATION
Cecelia was still in this tempestuous state, when a message was brought her that a gentleman was below stairs, who begged to have the honour of seeing her. She concluded he was Delvile, and the thought of meeting him merely to communicate what must so bitterly afflict him, redoubled her distress, and she went down in an agony of perturbation and sorrow.
He met her at the door, where, before he could speak, Mr Delvile, she cried, in a hurrying manner, why will you come? Why will you thus insist upon seeing me, in defiance of every obstacle, and in contempt of my prohibition?
Good heavens, cried he, amazed, whence this reproach? Did you not permit me to wait upon you with the result of my enquiries? Had I not your consentbut why do you look thus disturbed?Your eyes are red,you have been weeping.Oh my Cecilia! have I any share in your sorrow?Those tears, which never flow weakly, tell me, have theyhas one of them been shed upon my account?
And what, cried she, has been the result of your enquiries?Speak quick, for I wish to know,and in another instant I must be gone.
How strange, cried the astonished Delvile, is this language! how strange are these looks! What new has come to pass? Has any fresh calamity happened? Is there yet some evil which I do not expect?
Why will you not answer first? cried she; when I have spoken, you will perhaps be less willing.
You terrify, you shock, you amaze me! What dreadful blow awaits me? For what horror are you preparing me?That which I have just experienced, and which tore you from me even at the foot of the altar, still remains inexplicable, still continues to be involved in darkness and mystery; for the wretch who separated us I have never been able to discover.
Have you procured, then, no intelligence?
No, none; though since we parted I have never rested a moment.
Make, then, no further enquiry, for now all explanation would be useless. That we were parted, we know, though why we cannot tell: but that again we shall ever meet
She, stopt; her streaming eyes cast upwards, and a deep sigh bursting from her heart.
Oh what, cried Delvile, endeavouring to take her hand, which she hastily withdrew from him, what does this mean? loveliest, dearest Cecilia, my betrothed, my affianced wife! why flow those tears which agony only can wring from you? Why refuse me that hand which so lately was the pledge of your faith? Am I not the same Delvile to whom so few days since you gave it? Why will you not open to him your heart? Why thus distrust his honour, and repulse his tenderness? Oh why, giving him such exquisite misery, refuse him the smallest consolation?
What consolation, cried the weeping Cecilia, can I give? Alas! it is not, perhaps, you who most want it!
Here the door was opened by one of the Miss Charltons, who came into the room with a message from her grandmother, requesting to see Cecilia. Cecilia, ashamed of being thus surprised with Delvile, and in tears, waited not either to make any excuse to him, or any answer to Miss Charlton, but instantly hurried out of the room;not, however, to her old friend, whom now less than ever she could meet, but to her own apartment, where a very short indulgence of grief was succeeded by the severest examination of her own conduct.
A retrospection of this sort rarely brings much subject of exultation, when made with the rigid sincerity of secret impartiality: so much stronger is our reason than our virtue, so much higher our sense of duty than our performance!