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

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СКАЧАТЬ And what can pride even to the proudest afford as an equivalent? Her perfections you acknowledge, her greatness of mind is like your own; she has generously given me her heart,—Oh sacred and fascinating charge! Shall I, after such a deposite, consent to an eternal separation? Repeal, repeal your sentence, my Cecilia! let us live to ourselves and our consciences, and leave the vain prejudices of the world to those who can be paid by them for the loss of all besides!”

      “Is this conflict, then,” said Mrs Delvile, “to last for-ever? Oh end it, Mortimer, finish it, and make me happy! she is just, and will forgive you, she is noble-minded, and will honour you. Fly, then, at this critical moment, for in flight alone is your safety; and then will your father see the son of his hopes, and then shall the fond blessings of your idolizing mother soothe all your affliction, and soften all your regret!”

      “Oh madam!” cried Delvile, “for mercy, for humanity, forbear this cruel supplication!”

      “Nay, more than supplication, you have my commands; commands you have never yet disputed, and misery, ten-fold misery, will follow their disobedience. Hear me, Mortimer, for I speak prophetically; I know your heart, I know it to be formed for rectitude and duty, or destined by their neglect to repentance and horror.”

      Delvile, struck by these words, turned suddenly from them both, and in gloomy despondence walked to the other end of the room. Mrs Delvile perceived the moment of her power, and determined to pursue the blow: taking, therefore, the hand of Cecilia, while her eyes sparkled with the animation of reviving hope, “See,” she cried, pointing to her son, “see if I am deceived! can he bear even the suggestion of future contrition! Think you when it falls upon him, he will support it better? No; he will sink under it. And you, pure as you are of mind, and steadfast in principle, what would your chance be of happiness with a man who never erring till he knew you, could never look at you without regret, be his fondness what it might?”

      “Oh madam,” cried the greatly shocked Cecilia, “let him, then, see me no more!—take, take him all to yourself! forgive, console him! I will not have the misery of involving him in repentance, nor of incurring the reproaches of the mother he so much reverences!”

      “Exalted creature!” cried Mrs Delvile; “tenderness such as this would confer honour upon a monarch.” Then, calling out exultingly to her son, “See,” she added, “how great a woman can act, when stimulated by generosity, and a just sense of duty! Follow then, at least, the example you ought to have led, and deserve my esteem and love, or be content to forego them.”

      “And can I only deserve them,” said Delvile, in a tone of the deepest anguish, “by a compliance to which not merely my happiness, but my reason must be sacrificed? What honour do I injure that is not factitious? What evil threatens our union, that is not imaginary? In the general commerce of the world it may be right to yield to its prejudices, but in matters of serious importance, it is weakness to be shackled by scruples so frivolous, and it is cowardly to be governed by the customs we condemn. Religion and the laws of our country should then alone be consulted, and where those are neither opposed nor infringed, we should hold ourselves superior to all other considerations.”

      “Mistaken notions!” said Mrs Delvile; “and how long do you flatter yourself this independent happiness would endure? How long could you live contented by mere self-gratification, in defiance of the censure of mankind, the renunciation of your family, and the curses of your father?”

      “The curses of my father!” repeated he, starting and shuddering, “O no, he could never be so barbarous!”

      “He could,” said she, steadily, “nor do I doubt but he would. If now, however, you are affected by the prospect of his disclaiming you, think but what you will feel when first forbid to appear before either of us! and think of your remorse for involving Miss Beverley in such disgrace!”

      “O speak not such words!” cried he, with agonizing earnestness, “to disgrace her,—to be banished by you,—present not, I conjure you, such scenes to my imagination!”

      “Yet would they be unavoidable,” continued she; “nor have I said to you all; blinded as you now are by passion, your nobler feelings are only obscured, not extirpated; think, then, how they will all rise in revenge of your insulted dignity, when your name becomes a stranger to your ears, and you are first saluted by one so meanly adopted!—”

      “Hold, hold, madam,” interrupted he, “this is more than I can bear!”

      “Heavens!” still continued she, disregarding his entreaty, “what in the universe can pay you for that first moment of indignity! Think of it well ere you proceed, and anticipate your sensations, lest the shock should wholly overcome you. How will the blood of your wronged ancestors rise into your guilty cheeks, and how will your heart throb with secret shame and reproach, when wished joy upon your marriage by the name of Mr Beverley!”

      Delvile, stung to the soul, attempted not any answer, but walked about the room in the utmost disorder of mind. Cecilia would have retired, but feared irritating him to some extravagance; and Mrs Delvile, looking after him, added “For myself, I would still see, for I should pity your wife,—but NEVER would I behold my son when sunk into an object of compassion!”

      “It shall not be!” cried he, in a transport of rage; “cease, cease to distract me!—be content, madam,—you have conquered!”

      “Then you are my son!” cried she, rapturously embracing him; “now I know again my Mortimer! now I see the fair promise of his upright youth, and the flattering completion of my maternal expectations!”

      Cecilia, finding all thus concluded, desired nothing so much as to congratulate them on their reconciliation; but having only said “Let me, too,—” her voice failed her, she stopt short, and hoping she had been unheard, would have glided out of the room.

      But Delvile, penetrated and tortured, yet delighted at this sensibility, broke from his mother, and seizing her hand, exclaimed, “Oh Miss Beverley, if you are not happy–”

      “I am! I am!” cried she, with quickness; “let me pass,—and think no more of me.”

      “That voice,—those looks,—” cried he, still holding her, “they speak not serenity!—Oh if I have injured your peace,—if that heart, which, pure as angels, deserves to be as sacred from sorrow, through my means, or for my sake, suffers any diminution of tranquility—”

      “None, none!” interrupted she, with precipitation.

      “I know well,” cried he, “your greatness of soul; and if this dreadful sacrifice gives lasting torture only to myself,—if of your returning happiness I could be assured,—I would struggle to bear it.”

      “You may, be assured of it,” cried she, with reviving dignity, “I have no right to expect escaping all calamity, but while I share the common lot, I will submit to it without repining.”

      “Heaven then bless, and hovering angels watch you!” cried he, and letting go her hand, he ran hastily out of the room.

      “Oh Virtue, how bright is thy triumph!” exclaimed Mrs Delvile, flying up to Cecilia, and folding her in her arms; “Noble, incomparable young creature! I knew not that so much worth was compatible with human frailty!”

      But the heroism of Cecilia, in losing its object, lost its force; she sighed, she could not speak, tears gushed into her eyes, and kissing Mrs Delvile’s hand with a look that shewed her inability to converse with her, she hastened, though scarce able to support herself, away, with intention to shut herself up in her own apartment: and Mrs Delvile, who perceived that her utmost fortitude was exhausted, СКАЧАТЬ