Mr Monckton, cried Cecilia, extremely provoked at hearing him censured by a man she thought highly honoured in being permitted to approach him, whenever I have been his guest, has merited from me nothing but praise and gratitude.
O, cried Morrice, eagerly, there is not a more worthy man in the world! he has so much wit, so much politeness! I dont know a more charming man anywhere than my friend Mr Monckton. Cecilia now perceiving that the opinions of her new acquaintance were as pliant as his bows, determined to pay him no further attention, and hoped by sitting silent to force from him the business of his visit, if any he had, or if, as she now suspected, he had none, to weary him into a retreat.
But this plan, though it would have succeeded with herself, failed with Mr Morrice, who to a stock of good humour that made him always ready to oblige others, added an equal portion of insensibility that hardened him against all indignity. Finding, therefore, that Cecilia, to whom his visit was intended, seemed already satisfied with its length, he prudently forbore to torment her; but perceiving that the lady of the house was more accessible, he quickly made a transfer of his attention, and addressed his discourse to her with as much pleasure as if his only view had been to see her, and as much ease as if he had known her all his life.
With Mrs Harrel this conduct was not injudicious; she was pleased with his assiduity, amused with his vivacity, and sufficiently satisfied with his understanding. They conversed, therefore, upon pretty equal terms, and neither of them were yet tired, when they were interrupted by Mr Harrel, who came into the room, to ask if they had seen or heard any thing of Sir Robert Floyer?
No, answered Mrs Harrel, nothing at all.
I wish he was hanged, returned he, for he has kept me waiting this hour. He made me promise not to ride out till he called and now hell stay till the morning is over.
Pray where does he live, sir? cried Morrice, starting from his seat.
In Cavendish Square, sir, answered Mr Harrel, looking at him with much surprise.
Not a word more said Morrice, but scampered out of the room.
Pray who is this Genius? cried Mr Harrel, and what has he run away for?
Upon my word I know nothing at all of him, said Mrs Harrel; he is a visitor of Miss Beverleys.
And I, too, said Cecilia, might almost equally disclaim all knowledge of him; for though I once saw, I never was introduced to him.
She then began a relation of her meeting him at Mr Moncktons house, and had hardly concluded it, before again, and quite out of breath, he made his appearance.
Sir Robert Floyer, sir, said he to Mr Harrel, will be here in two minutes.
I hope, sir, said Mr Harrel, you have not given yourself the trouble of going to him?
No, sir, it has given me nothing but pleasure; a run these cold mornings is the thing I like best.
Sir, you are extremely good, said Mr Harrel, but I had not the least intention of your taking such a walk upon my account.
He then begged him to be seated, to rest himself, and to take some refreshment; which civilities he received without scruple.
But, Miss Beverley, said Mr Harrel, turning suddenly to Cecilia, you dont tell me what you think of my friend?
What friend, sir?
Why, Sir Robert Floyer; I observed he never quitted you a moment while he stayed at Mrs Mears.
His stay, however, was too short, said Cecilia, to allow me to form a fair opinion of him.
But perhaps, cried Morrice, it was long enough to allow you to form a foul one.
Cecilia could not forbear laughing to hear the truth thus accidentally blundered out; but Mr Harrel, looking very little pleased, said, Surely you can find no fault with him? he is one of the most fashionable men I know.
My finding fault with him then, said Cecilia, will only farther prove what I believe is already pretty evident, that I am yet a novice in the art of admiration.
Mr Arnott, animating at this speech, glided behind her chair, and said, I knew you could not like him! I knew it from the turn of your mind;I knew it even from your countenance!
Soon after, Sir Robert Floyer arrived.
You are a pretty fellow, ant you, cried Mr Harrel, to keep me waiting so long.
I could not come a moment sooner; I hardly expected to get here at all, for my horse has been so confounded resty I could not tell how to get him along.
Do you come on horseback through the streets, Sir Robert? asked Mrs Harrel.
Sometimes; when I am lazy. But what the dl is the matter with him I dont know; he has started at everything. I suspect there has been some foul play with him.
Is he at the door, sir? cried Morrice.
Yes, answered Sir Robert.
Then Ill tell you whats the matter with him in a minute; and away again ran Morrice.
What time did you get off last night, Harrel? said Sir Robert.
Not very early; but you were too much engaged to miss me. By the way, lowering his voice, what do you think I lost?
I cant tell indeed, but I know what I gained: I have not had such a run of luck this winter.
They then went up to a window to carry on their enquiries more privately.
At the words what do you think I lost, Cecilia, half starting, cast her eyes uneasily upon Mrs Harrel, but perceived not the least change in her countenance. Mr Arnott, however, seemed as little pleased as herself, and from a similar sensation looked anxiously at his sister.
Morrice now returning, called out, Hes had a fall, I assure you!
Curse him! cried Sir Robert, what shall I do now? he cost me the dl and all of money, and I have not had him a twelvemonth. Can you lend me a horse for this morning, Harrel?
No, I have not one that will do for you. You must send to Astley.
Who can I send? John must take care of this.
Ill go, sir, cried Morrice, if youll give me the commission.
By no means, sir, said Sir Robert, I cant think of giving you such an office.
It is the thing in the world I like best, answered he; I understand horses, and had rather go to Astleys than any where.
The matter was now settled in a few minutes, and having received his directions, and an invitation to dinner, Morrice danced off, with a heart yet lighter than his heels.
Why, Miss Beverley, said Mr Harrel, this friend of yours is the most obliging gentleman I ever met with; there was no avoiding asking him to dinner.
Remember, however, said Cecilia, who was involuntarily diverted at the successful officiousness of her new acquaintance, that if you receive him henceforth as your guest, he obtains admission through his own merits, and not through my interest.
At dinner, Morrice, who failed not to accept the invitation of Mr Harrel, was the gayest, and indeed the happiest man in the company: the effort he had made to fasten himself upon Cecilia as an acquaintance, had not, it is true, from herself met with much encouragement; but he knew the chances were against him when he made the trial, and therefore the prospect of gaining admission into such a house as Mr Harrels, was not only sufficient to make amends for what scarcely amounted to a disappointment, but a subject of serious comfort from the credit of the connection, and of internal exultation at his own management and address.
In the evening, the ladies, as usual, went to a private assembly, and, as usual, were attended to it by Mr Arnott. The other gentlemen had engagements elsewhere.
CHAPTER vii. A PROJECT
Several days passed on nearly in the same manner; the mornings were all spent in gossipping, shopping and dressing, and the evenings were regularly appropriated to public places, or large parties of company.
Meanwhile Mr Arnott lived almost entirely in Portman Square; he slept, indeed, at his own lodgings, but he boarded wholly with Mr Harrel, whose house he never for a moment quitted till night, except to attend Cecilia and his sister in their visitings and rambles.
Mr Arnott was a young man of unexceptionable character, and of a disposition mild, serious and benignant: his principles and blameless conduct obtained the universal esteem of the world, but his manners, which were rather too precise, joined to an uncommon gravity of countenance and demeanour, made his society rather permitted as a duty, than sought as a pleasure.
The charms of Cecilia had forcibly, suddenly and deeply penetrated his heart; he only lived in her presence, away from her he hardly existed: the emotions she excited were rather those of adoration than of love, for he gazed upon her beauty till he thought her more than human, and hung upon her accents till all speech seemed impertinent to him but her own. Yet so small were his expectations of success, that not even to his sister did he hint at the situation of his heart: happy in an easy access to her, he contented himself with seeing, hearing and watching her, beyond which bounds he formed not any plan, and scarce indulged any hope.
Sir Robert Floyer, too, was a frequent visitor in Portman Square, where he dined almost daily. Cecilia was chagrined at seeing so much of him, and provoked to find herself almost constantly the object of his unrestrained examination; she was, however, far more seriously concerned for Mrs Harrel, when she discovered that this favourite friend of her husband was an unprincipled spendthrift, and an extravagant gamester, for as he was the inseparable companion of Mr Harrel, she dreaded the consequence both of his influence and his example.
She saw, too, with an amazement that daily increased, the fatigue, yet fascination of a life of pleasure: Mr Harrel seemed to consider his own house merely as an hotel, where at any hour of the night he might disturb the family to claim admittance, where letters and messages might be left for him, where he dined when no other dinner was offered him, and where, when he made an appointment, he was to be met with. His lady, too, though more at home, was not therefore more solitary; her acquaintance were numerous, expensive and idle, and every moment not actually spent in company, was scrupulously devoted to making arrangements for that purpose.
In a short time Cecilia, who every day had hoped that the next would afford her greater satisfaction, but who every day found the present no better than the former, began to grow weary of eternally running the same round, and to sicken at the irksome repetition of unremitting yet uninteresting dissipation. She saw nobody she wished to see, as she had met with nobody for whom she could care; for though sometimes those with whom she mixed appeared to be amiable, she knew that their manners, like their persons, were in their best array, and therefore she had too much understanding to judge decisively of their characters. But what chiefly damped her hopes of forming a friendship with any of the new acquaintance to whom she was introduced, was the observation she herself made how ill the coldness of their hearts accorded with the warmth of their professions; upon every first meeting, the civilities which were shewn her, flattered her into believing she had excited a partiality that a very little time would ripen into affection; the next meeting commonly confirmed the expectation; but the third, and every future one, regularly destroyed it. She found that time added nothing to their fondness, nor intimacy to their sincerity; that the interest in her welfare which appeared to be taken at first sight, seldom, with whatever reason, increased, and often without any, abated; that the distinction she at first met with, was no effusion of kindness, but of curiosity, which is scarcely sooner gratified than satiated; and that those who lived always the life into which she had only lately been initiated, were as much harassed with it as herself, though less spirited to relinquish, and more helpless to better it, and that they coveted nothing but what was new, because they had experienced the insufficiency of whatever was familiar.
She began now to regret the loss she sustained in quitting the neighbourhood, and being deprived of the conversation of Mr Monckton, and yet more earnestly to miss the affection and sigh for the society of Mrs Charlton, the lady with whom she had long and happily resided at Bury; for she was very soon compelled to give up all expectation of renewing the felicity of her earlier years, by being restored to the friendship of Mrs Harrel, in whom she had mistaken the kindness of childish intimacy for the sincerity of chosen affection; and though she saw her credulous error with mortification and displeasure, she regretted it with tenderness and sorrow. What, at last, cried she, is human felicity, who has tasted, and where is it to be found? If I, who, to others, seem marked out for even a partial possession of it,distinguished by fortune, caressed by the world, brought into the circle of high life, and surrounded with splendour, seek without finding it, yet losing, scarce know how I miss it!
Ashamed upon reflection to believe she was considered as an object of envy by others, while repining and discontented herself, she determined no longer to be the only one insensible to the blessings within her reach, but by projecting and adopting some plan of conduct better suited to her taste and feelings than the frivolous insipidity of her present life, to make at once a more spirited and more worthy use of the affluence, freedom, and power which she possessed.
A scheme of happiness at once rational and refined soon presented itself to her imagination. She purposed, for the basis of her plan, to become mistress of her own time, and with this view, to drop all idle and uninteresting acquaintance, who, while they contribute neither to use nor pleasure, make so large a part of the community, that they may properly be called the underminers of existence; she could then shew some taste and discernment in her choice of friends, and she resolved to select such only as by their piety could elevate her mind, by their knowledge improve her understanding, or by their accomplishments and manners delight her affections. This regulation, if strictly adhered to, would soon relieve her from the fatigue of receiving many visitors, and therefore she might have all the leisure she could desire for the pursuit of her favourite studies, music and reading.
Having thus, from her own estimation of human perfection, culled whatever was noblest for her society, and from her own ideas of sedentary enjoyments arranged the occupations of her hours of solitude, she felt fully satisfied with the portion of happiness which her scheme promised to herself, and began next to consider what was due from her to the world.
And not without trembling did she then look forward to the claims which the splendid income she was soon to possess would call upon her to discharge. A strong sense of DUTY, a fervent desire to ACT RIGHT, were the ruling characteristics of her mind: her affluence she therefore considered as a debt contracted with the poor, and her independence as a tie upon her liberality to pay it with interest.
Many and various, then, soothing to her spirit and grateful to her sensibility, were the scenes which her fancy delineated; now she supported an orphan, now softened the sorrows of a widow, now snatched from iniquity the feeble trembler at poverty, and now rescued from shame the proud struggler with disgrace. The prospect at once exalted her hopes, and enraptured her imagination; she regarded herself as an agent of Charity, and already in idea anticipated the rewards of a good and faithful delegate; so animating are the designs of disinterested benevolence! so pure is the bliss of intellectual philanthropy!