The Collected Works of Frances Burney (Illustrated Edition). Frances Burney
my Lord Ernolf has strongly requested me: but to press such an alliance, I should think an indignity to your understanding.”
Cecilia was much gratified by this speech; but she soon after added, “There is one reason, indeed, which would render such a connection desirable, though that is only one.”
“What is it, madam?”
“His title.”
“And why so? I am sure I have no ambition of that sort.”
“No, my love,” said Mrs Delvile, smiling, “I mean not by way of gratification to your pride, but to his; since a title, by taking place of a family name, would obviate the only objection that any man could form to an alliance with Miss Beverley.”
Cecilia, who too well understood her, suppressed a sigh, and changed the subject of conversation.
One day was sufficient for all the preparations she required, and, as she meant to set out very early the next morning, she took leave of Lady Honoria, and the Lords Ernolf and Derford, when they separated for the night; but Mrs Delvile followed her to her room.
She expressed her concern at losing her in the warmest and most flattering terms, yet said nothing of her coming back, nor of the length of her stay; she desired, however, to hear from her frequently, and assured her that out of her own immediate family, there was nobody in the world she so tenderly valued.
She continued with her till it grew so late that they were almost necessarily parted: and then rising to be gone, “See,” she cried, “with what reluctance I quit you! no interest but so dear a one as that which calls me away, should induce me, with my own consent, to bear your absence scarcely an hour: but the world is full of mortifications, and to endure, or to sink under them, makes all the distinction between the noble or the weak-minded. To you this may be said with safety; to most young women it would pass for a reflection.”
“You are very good,” said Cecilia, smothering the emotions to which this speech gave rise, “and if indeed you honour me with an opinion so flattering, I will endeavour, if it is possibly in my power, not to forfeit it.”
“Ah, my love!” cried Mrs Delvile warmly, “if upon my opinion of you alone depended our residence with each other, when should we ever part, and how live a moment asunder? But what title have I to monopolize two such blessings? the mother of Mortimer Delvile should at nothing repine; the mother of Cecilia Beverley had alone equal reason to be proud.”
“You are determined, madam,” said Cecilia, forcing a smile, “that I shall be worthy, by giving me the sweetest of motives, that of deserving such praise.” And then, in a faint voice, she desired her respects to Mr Delvile, and added, “you will find, I hope, every body at Bristol better than you expect.”
“I hope so,” returned she; “and that you too, will find your Mrs Charlton well, happy, and good as you left her: but suffer her not to drive me from your remembrance, and never fancy that because she has known you longer, she loves you more; my acquaintance with you, though short, has been critical, and she must hear from you a world of anecdotes, before she can have reason to love you as much.”
“Ah, madam,” cried Cecilia, tears starting into her eyes, “let us part now! — where will be that strength of mind you expect from me, if I listen to you any longer!”
“You are right, my love,” answered Mrs Delvile, “since all tenderness enfeebles fortitude.” Then affectionately embracing her, “Adieu,” she cried, “sweetest Cecilia, amiable and most excellent creature, adieu! — you, carry with you my highest approbation, my love, my esteem, my fondest wishes! — and shall I— yes, generous girl! I will add my warmest gratitude!”
This last word she spoke almost in a whisper, again kissed her, and hastened out of the room.
Cecilia, surprised and affected, gratified and depressed, remained almost motionless, and could not, for a great length of time, either ring for her maid, or persuade herself to go to rest. She saw throughout the whole behaviour of Mrs Delvile, a warmth of regard which, though strongly opposed by family pride, made her almost miserable to promote the very union she thought necessary to discountenance; she saw, too, that it was with the utmost difficulty she preserved the steadiness of her opposition, and that she had a conflict perpetual with herself, to forbear openly acknowledging the contrariety of her wishes, and the perplexity of her distress; but chiefly she was struck with her expressive use of the word gratitude. “Wherefore should she be grateful,” thought Cecilia, “what have I done, or had power to do? infinitely, indeed, is she deceived, if she supposes that her son has acted by my directions; my influence with him is nothing, and he could not be more his own master, were he utterly indifferent to me. To conceal my own disappointment has, been all I have attempted; and perhaps she may think of me thus highly, from supposing that the firmness of her son is owing to my caution and reserve: ah, she knows him not! — were my heart at this moment laid open to him — were all its weakness, its partiality, its ill-fated admiration displayed, he would but double his vigilance to avoid and forget me, and find the task all the easier by his abatement of esteem. Oh strange infatuation of unconquerable prejudice! his very life will he sacrifice in preference to his name, and while the conflict of his mind threatens to level him with the dust, he disdains to unite himself where one wish is unsatisfied!”
These reflections, and the uncertainty if she should ever in Delvile Castle sleep again, disturbed her the whole night, and made all calling in the morning unnecessary: she arose at five o’clock, dressed herself with the utmost heaviness of heart, and in going through a long gallery which led to the staircase, as she passed the door of Mortimer’s chamber, the thought of his ill health, his intended long journey, and the probability that she might never see him more, so deeply impressed and saddened her, that scarcely could she force herself to proceed, without stopping to weep and to pray for him; she was surrounded, however, by servants, and compelled therefore to hasten to the chaise; she flung herself in, and, leaning back, drew her hat over her eyes, and thought, as the carriage drove off, her last hope of earthly happiness extinguished.
BOOK 7
CHAPTER 1
A RENOVATION
Cecilia was accompanied by her maid in the chaise, and her own servant and one of Mrs Delvile’s attended her on horseback.
The quietness of her dejection was soon interrupted by a loud cry among the men of “home! home! home!” She then looked out of one of the windows, and perceived Fidel, running after the carriage, and barking at the servants, who were all endeavouring to send him back.
Touched by this proof of the animal’s gratitude for her attention to him, and conscious she had herself occasioned his master’s leaving him, the scheme of Lady Honoria occurred to her, and she almost wished to put it in execution, but this was the thought of a moment, and motioning him with her hand to go back, she desired Mrs Delvile’s man to return with him immediately, and commit him to the care of somebody in the castle.
This little incident, however trifling, was the most important of her journey, for she arrived at the house of Mrs Charlton without meeting any other.
The sight of that lady gave her a sensation of pleasure to which she had long been a stranger, pleasure pure, unmixed, unaffected and unrestrained: it revived all her early affection, and with it, something resembling at least her early tranquility: again she was in the house where it had once been undisturbed, again she enjoyed the society which was once all she had wished, and again saw the same scene, the same faces, and same prospects she had beheld while her heart was all devoted to her friends.
Mrs Charlton, though old and infirm, preserved an understanding, which, whenever unbiassed by her affections, was sure to direct her unerringly; but the extreme