Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress. Volume 3. Burney Fanny

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СКАЧАТЬ keep her granddaughters up stairs, that the conference in the parlour might be uninterrupted and unheard.

      She then made a forced and hasty breakfast, and went down to be ready to receive them. They came not till eleven o’clock, and the time of her waiting was passed in agonies of expectation.

      At length they were announced, and at length they entered the room.

      Cecilia, with her utmost efforts for courage, could hardly stand to receive them. They came in together, but Mrs Delvile, advancing before her son, and endeavouring so to stand as to intercept his view of her, with the hope that in a few instants her emotion would be less visible, said, in the most soothing accents, “What honour Miss Beverley does us by permitting this visit! I should have been sorry to have left Suffolk without the satisfaction of again seeing you; and my son, sensible of the high respect he owes you, was most unwilling to be gone, before he had paid you his devoirs.”

      Cecilia courtsied; but depressed by the cruel task which awaited her, had no power to speak; and Mrs Delvile, finding she still trembled, made her sit down, and drew a chair next to her.

      Mean while Delvile, with an emotion far more violent, because wholly unrestrained, waited impatiently till the ceremonial of the reception was over, and then, approaching Cecilia, in a voice of perturbation and resentment, said, “In this presence, at least, I hope I may be heard; though my letters have been unanswered, my visits refused, though inexorably you have flown me—”

      “Mortimer,” interrupted Mrs Delvile, “forget not that what I have told you is irrevocable; you now meet Miss Beverley for no other purpose than to give and to receive a mutual release of all to or engagement with each other.”

      “Pardon me, madam,” cried he, “this is a condition to which I have never assented. I come not to release, but to claim her! I am hers, and hers wholly! I protest it in the face of the world! The time, therefore, is now past for the sacrifice which you demand, since scarce are you more my mother, than I consider her as my wife.”

      Cecilia, amazed at this dauntless declaration, now almost lost her fear in her surprise; while Mrs Delvile, with an air calm though displeased, answered, “This is not a point to be at present discussed, and I had hoped you knew better what was due to your auditors. I only consented to this interview as a mark of your respect for Miss Beverley, to whom in propriety it belongs to break off this unfortunate connexion.”

      Cecilia, who at this call could no longer be silent, now gathered fortitude to say, “Whatever tie or obligation may be supposed to depend upon me, I have already relinquished; and I am now ready to declare—”

      “That you wholly give me up?” interrupted Delvile, “is that what you would say?—Oh how have I offended you? how have I merited a displeasure that can draw upon me such a sentence?—Answer, speak to me, Cecilia, what is it I have done?”

      “Nothing, Sir,” said Cecilia, confounded at this language in the presence of his mother, “you have done nothing,—but yet—”

      “Yet what?—have you conceived to me an aversion? has any dreadful and horrible antipathy succeeded to your esteem?—tell, tell me without disguise, do you hate, do you abhor me?”

      Cecilia sighed, and turned away her head; and Mrs Delvile indignantly exclaimed, “What madness and absurdity! I scarce know you under the influence of such irrational violence. Why will you interrupt Miss Beverley in the only speech you ought to hear from her? Why, at once, oppress her, and irritate me, by words of more passion than reason? Go on, charming girl, finish what so wisely, so judiciously you were beginning, and then you shall be released from this turbulent persecution.”

      “No, madam, she must not go on!” cried Delvile, “if she does not utterly abhor me, I will not suffer her to go on;—Pardon, pardon me, Cecilia, but your too exquisite delicacy is betraying not only my happiness, but your own. Once more, therefore, I conjure you to hear me, and then if, deliberately and unbiassed, you renounce me, I will never more distress you by resisting your decree.”

      Cecilia, abashed and changing colour, was silent, and he proceeded.

      “All that has past between us, the vows I have offered you of faith, constancy and affection, the consent I obtained from you to be legally mine, the bond of settlement I have had drawn up, and the high honour you conferred upon me in suffering me to lead you to the altar,—all these particulars are already known to so many, that the least reflection must convince you they will soon be concealed from none: tell me, then, if your own fame pleads not for me, and if the scruples which lead you to refuse, by taking another direction, will not, with much more propriety, urge, nay enjoin you to accept me!—You hesitate at least,—O Miss Beverley!—I see in that hesitation—”

      “Nothing, nothing!” cried she, hastily, and checking her rising irresolution; “there is nothing for you to see, but that every way I now turn I have rendered myself miserable!”

      “Mortimer,” said Mrs Delvile, seized with terror as she penetrated into the mental yielding of Cecilia, “you have now spoken to Miss Beverley; and unwilling as I am to obtrude upon her our difference of sentiment, it is necessary, since she has heard you, that I, also, should claim her attention.”

      “First let her speak!” cried Delvile, who in her apparent wavering built new hopes, “first let her answer what she has already deigned to listen to.”

      “No, first let her hear!” cried Mrs Delvile, “for so only can she judge what answer will reflect upon her most honour.”

      Then, solemnly turning to Cecilia, she continued: “You see here, Miss Beverley, a young man who passionately adores you, and who forgets in his adoration friends, family, and connections, the opinions in which he has been educated, the honour of his house, his own former views, and all his primitive sense of duty, both public and private!—A passion built on such a defalcation of principle renders him unworthy your acceptance; and not more ignoble for him would be a union which would blot his name from the injured stock whence he sprung, than indelicate for you, who upon such terms ought to despise him.”

      “Heavens, madam,” exclaimed Delvile, “what a speech!”

      “O never,” cried Cecilia, rising, “may I hear such another! Indeed, madam, there is no occasion to probe me so deeply, for I would not now enter your family, for all that the whole world could offer me!”

      “At length, then, madam,” cried Delvile, turning reproachfully to his mother, “are you satisfied? is your purpose now answered? and is the dagger you have transfixed in my heart sunk deep enough to appease you?”

      “O could I draw it out,” cried Mrs Delvile, “and leave upon it no stain of ignominy, with what joy should my own bosom receive it, to heal the wound I have most compulsatorily inflicted!—Were this excellent young creature portionless, I would not hesitate in giving my consent; every claim of interest would be overbalanced by her virtues, and I would not grieve to see you poor, where so conscious you were happy; but here to concede, would annihilate every hope with which hitherto I have looked up to my son.”

      “Let us now, then, madam,” said Cecilia, “break up this conference. I have spoken, I have heard, the decree is past, and therefore,”—

      “You are indeed an angel!” cried Mrs Delvile, rising and embracing her; “and never can I reproach my son with what has passed, when I consider for what an object the sacrifice was planned. You cannot be unhappy, you have purchased peace by the exercise of virtue, and the close of every day will bring to you a reward, in the sweets of a self-approving mind.—But we will part, since you think it right; I do wrong to occasion any delay.”

      “No, СКАЧАТЬ