“To me, Sir, they have, I believe, no pretensions at all.”
“I see you are shy,” returned he, with encreasing gentleness, “I see you cannot be easy with me; and when I consider how little you are accustomed to me, I do not wonder. But pray take courage; I think it necessary to inform myself of your affairs, and therefore I beg you will speak to me with freedom.”
Cecilia, more and more mortified by this humiliating condescension, again assured him he had been misinformed, and was again, though discredited, praised for her modesty, when, to her great relief, they were interrupted by the entrance of her friend the white domino.
“Mortimer,” said Mr Delvile, “I understand you have already had the pleasure of seeing this young lady?”
“Yes, Sir,” he answered, “I have more than once had that happiness, but I have never had the honour of being introduced to her.”
“Miss Beverley, then,” said the father, “I must present to you Mr Mortimer Delvile, my son; and, Mortimer, in Miss Beverley I desire you will remember that you respect a ward of your father’s.”
“I will not, Sir,” answered he, “forget an injunction my own inclinations had already out-run.”
Mortimer Delvile was tall and finely formed, his features, though not handsome, were full of expression, and a noble openness of manners and address spoke the elegance of his education, and the liberality of his mind.
When this introduction was over, a more general conversation took place, till Mr Delvile, suddenly rising, said to Cecilia, “You will pardon me, Miss Beverley, if I leave you for a few minutes; one of my tenants sets out tomorrow morning for my estate in the North, and he has been two hours waiting to speak with me. But if my son is not particularly engaged, I am sure he will be so good as to do the honours of the house till his mother is ready to receive you.”
And then, graciously waving his hand, he quitted the room.
“My father,” cried young Delvile, “has left me an office which, could I execute it as perfectly as I shall willingly, would be performed without a fault.”
“I am very sorry,” said Cecilia, “that I have so much mistaken your hour of breakfast; but let me not be any restraint upon you, I shall find a book, or a newspaper, or something to fill up the time till Mrs Delvile honours me with a summons.”
“You can only be a restraint upon me,” answered he, “by commanding me from your presence. I breakfasted long ago, and am now just come from Mr Belfield. I had the pleasure, this morning, of being admitted into his room.”
“And how, Sir, did you find him?”
“Not so well, I fear, as he thinks himself; but he was in high spirits, and surrounded by his friends, whom he was entertaining with all the gaiety of a man in full health, and entirely at his ease; though I perceived, by the frequent changes of his countenance, signs of pain and indisposition, that made me, however pleased with his conversation, think it necessary to shorten my own visit, and to hint to those who were near me the propriety of leaving him quiet.”
“Did you see his surgeon, Sir?”
“No; but he told me he should only have one dressing more of his wound, and then get rid of the whole business by running into the country.”
“Were you acquainted with him, Sir, before this accident?”
“No, not at all; but the little I have seen of him has strongly interested me in his favour: at Mr Harrel’s masquerade, where I first met with him, I was extremely entertained by his humour — though there, perhaps, as I had also the honour of first seeing Miss Beverley, I might be too happy to feel much difficulty in being pleased. And even at the Opera he had the advantage of finding me in the same favourable disposition, as I had long distinguished you before I had taken any notice of him. I must, however, confess I did not think his anger that evening quite without provocation — but I beg your pardon, I may perhaps be mistaken, and you, who know the whole affair, must undoubtedly be better able to account for what happened.”
Here he fixed his eyes upon Cecilia, with a look of curiosity that seemed eager to penetrate into her sentiments of the two antagonists.
“No, certainly,” she answered, “he had all the provocation that ill-breeding could give him.”
“And do you, madam,” cried he, with much surprize, “judge of this matter with such severity?”
“No, not with severity, simply with candour.”
“With candour? alas, then, poor Sir Robert! Severity were not half so bad a sign for him!”
A servant now came in, to acquaint Cecilia that Mrs Delvile waited breakfast for her.
This summons was immediately followed by the re-entrance of Mr Delvile, who, taking her hand, said he would himself present her to his lady, and with much graciousness assured her of a kind reception.
The ceremonies preceding this interview, added to the character she had already heard of Mrs Delvile, made Cecilia heartily wish it over; but, assuming all the courage in her power, she determined to support herself with a spirit that should struggle against the ostentatious superiority she was prepared to expect.
She found her seated upon a sofa, from which, however, she arose at her approach; but the moment Cecilia beheld her, all the unfavourable impressions with which she came into her presence immediately vanished, and that respect which the formalities of her introduction had failed to inspire, her air, figure, and countenance instantaneously excited.
She was not more than fifty years of age; her complection, though faded, kept the traces of its former loveliness, her eyes, though they had lost their youthful fire, retained a lustre that evinced their primeval brilliancy, and the fine symmetry of her features, still uninjured by the siege of time, not only indicated the perfection of her juvenile beauty, but still laid claim to admiration in every beholder. Her carriage was lofty and commanding; but the dignity to which high birth and conscious superiority gave rise, was so judiciously regulated by good sense, and so happily blended with politeness, that though the world at large envied or hated her, the few for whom she had herself any regard, she was infallibly certain to captivate.
The surprise and admiration with which Cecilia at the first glance was struck proved reciprocal: Mrs Delvile, though prepared for youth and beauty, expected not to see a countenance so intelligent, nor manners so well formed as those of Cecilia: thus mutually astonished and mutually pleased, their first salutations were accompanied by looks so flattering to both, that each saw in the other, an immediate prepossession in her favour, and from the moment that they met, they seemed instinctively impelled to admire.
“I have promised Miss Beverley, madam,” said Mr Delvile to his lady, “that you would give her a kind reception; and I need not remind you that my promises are always held sacred.”
“But I hope you have not also promised,” cried she, with quickness, “that I should give you a kind reception, for I feel at this very moment extremely inclined to quarrel with you.”
“Why so, madam?”
“For not bringing us together sooner; for now I have seen her, I already look back with regret to the time I have lost without the pleasure of knowing her.”
“What a claim is this,” cried young Delvile, “upon the benevolence of Miss Beverley! for if she has not now the indulgence by frequent and diligent visits to make some reparation, she must consider herself as responsible for the dissension she will occasion.”
“If peace depends upon my visits,” answered Cecilia, “it may immediately be proclaimed; were it to be procured only by my absence, I know not if I should so readily agree to the conditions.”
“I must request of you, madam,” said Mr Delvile, “that when my son and I retire, you will bestow half an hour upon this young lady,