Sir Robert, who now saw he was in no situation to be reasoned with, stood for a moment silent; and then, looking round the box, and observing Messrs Hobson and Simkins, he exclaimed aloud “Why what queer party have you got into? who the d —— l have you picked up here?”
Mr Hobson, who, to the importance of lately acquired wealth, now added the courage of newly drunk Champagne, stoutly kept his ground, without seeming at all conscious he was included in this interrogation; but Mr Simkins, who had still his way to make in the world, and whose habitual servility would have resisted a larger draught, was easily intimidated; he again, therefore stood up, and with the most cringing respect offered the Baronet his place: who, taking neither of the offer nor offerer the smallest notice, still stood opposite to Mr Harrel, waiting for some explanation.
Mr Harrel, however, who now grew really incapable of giving any, only repeated his invitation that he would make one among them.
“One among you?” cried he, angrily, and pointing to Mr Hobson, “why you don’t fancy I’ll sit down with a bricklayer?”
“A bricklayer?” said Mr Harrel, “ay, sure, and a hosier too; sit down, Mr Simkins, keep your place, man!”
Mr Simkins most thankfully bowed; but Mr Hobson, who could no longer avoid feeling the personality of this reflection, boldly answered, “Sir, you may sit down with a worse man any day in the week! I have done nothing I’m ashamed of, and no man can say to me why did you so? I don’t tell you, Sir, what I’m worth; no one has a right to ask; I only say three times five is fifteen! that’s all.”
“Why what the d —— l, you impudent fellow,” cried the haughty Baronet, “you don’t presume to mutter, do you?”
“Sir,” answered Mr Hobson, very hotly, “I sha’n’t put up with abuse from no man! I’ve got a fair character in the world, and wherewithal to live by my own liking. And what I have is my own, and all I say is, let every one say the same, for that’s the way to fear no man, and face the d —— l.”
“What do you mean by that, fellow?” cried Sir Robert.
“Fellow, Sir! this is talking no how. Do you think a man of substance, that’s got above the world, is to be treated like a little scrubby apprentice? Let every man have his own, that’s always my way of thinking; and this I can say for myself, I have as good a right to shew my head where I please as ever a member of parliament in all England: and I wish every body here could say as much.”
Sir Robert, fury starting into his eyes, was beginning an answer; but Mrs Harrel with terror, and Cecilia with dignity, calling upon them both to forbear, the Baronet desired Morrice to relinquish his place to him, and seating himself next to Mrs Harrel, gave over the contest.
Meanwhile Mr Simkins, hoping to ingratiate himself with the company, advanced to Mr Hobson, already cooled by finding himself unanswered, and reproachfully said “Mr Hobson, if I may make so free, I must needs be bold to say I am quite ashamed of you! a person of your standing and credit for to talk so disrespectful! as if a gentleman had not a right to take a little pleasure, because he just happens to owe you a little matters of money: fie, fie, Mr Hobson! I did not expect you to behave so despiseable!”
“Despiseable!” answered Mr Hobson, “I’d scorn as much to do anything despiseable as yourself, or any thing misbecoming of a gentleman; and as to coming to such a place as this may be, why I have no objection to it. All I stand to is this, let every man have his due; for as to taking a little pleasure, here I am, as one may say, doing the same myself; but where’s the harm of that? who’s a right to call a man to account that’s clear of the world? Not that I mean to boast, nor nothing like it, but, as I said before; five times five is fifteen; — that’s my calculation.”
Mr Harrel, who, during this debate, had still continued drinking, regardless of all opposition from his wife and Cecilia, now grew more and more turbulent: he insisted that Mr Simkins should return to his seat, ordered him another bumper of champagne, and saying he had not half company enough to raise his spirits, desired Morrice to go and invite more.
Morrice, always ready to promote a frolic, most chearfully consented; but when Cecilia, in a low voice, supplicated him to bring no one back, with still more readiness he made signs that he understood and would obey her.
Mr Harrel then began to sing, and in so noisy and riotous a manner, that nobody approached the box without stopping to stare at him; and those who were new to such scenes, not contented with merely looking in, stationed themselves at some distance before it, to observe what was passing, and to contemplate with envy and admiration an appearance of mirth and enjoyment which they attributed to happiness and pleasure! Mrs Harrel, shocked to be seen in such mixed company, grew every instant more restless and miserable; and Cecilia, half distracted to think how they were to get home, had passed all her time in making secret vows that if once again she was delivered from Mr Harrel she would never see him more.
Sir Robert Floyer perceiving their mutual uneasiness, proposed to escort them home himself; and Cecilia, notwithstanding her aversion to him, was listening to the scheme, when Mr Marriot, who had been evidently provoked and disconcerted since the junction of the Baronet, suspecting what was passing, offered his services also, and in a tone of voice that did not promise a very quiet acquiescence in a refusal.
Cecilia, who, too easily, in their looks, saw all the eagerness of rivalry, now dreaded the consequence of her decision, and therefore declined the assistance of either: but her distress was unspeakable, as there was not one person in the party to whose care she could commit herself, though the behaviour of Mr Harrel, which every moment grew more disorderly, rendered the necessity of quitting him urgent and uncontroulable.
When Morrice returned, stopping in the midst of his loud and violent singing, he vehemently demanded what company he had brought him?
“None at all, sir,” answered Morrice, looking significantly at Cecilia; “I have really been so unlucky as not to meet with any body who had a mind to come.”
“Why then,” answered he, starting up, “I will seek some for myself.” “O no, pray, Mr Harrel, bring nobody else,” cried his wife. “Hear us in pity,” cried Cecilia, “and distress us no further.”
“Distress you?” cried he, with quickness, “what shall I not bring you those pretty girls? Yes, one more glass, and I will teach you to welcome them.”
And he poured out another bumper.
“This is so insupportable!” cried Cecilia, rising, “and I can remain here no longer.”
“This is cruel indeed,” cried Mrs. Harrel, bursting into tears; “did you only bring me here to insult me?”
“No!” cried he, suddenly embracing her, “by this parting kiss!” then wildly jumping upon his seat, he leapt over the table, and was out of sight in an instant.
Amazement seized all who remained; Mrs Harrel and Cecilia, indeed, doubted not but he was actually gone to the chaise he had ordered; but the manner of his departure affrighted them, and his preceding behaviour had made them cease to expect it: Mrs Harrel, leaning upon Cecilia, continued to weep, while she, confounded and alarmed, scarce knew whether she should stay and console her, or fly after Mr Harrel, whom she feared had incapacitated himself from finding his chaise, by the very method he had taken to gather courage for seeking it.
This, however, was but the apprehension of a moment; another and a far more horrible one drove it from her imagination: for scarcely had Mr Harrel quitted the box and their sight, before their ears were suddenly struck with the report of a pistol.
Mrs Harrel gave a loud scream, which was involuntarily echoed by, Cecilia: everybody arose, some with officious zeal to serve the ladies, and others to hasten to the spot whence the dreadful sound proceeded.
Sir Robert Floyer again offered his services in conducting them home; but they could listen to no such proposal: Cecilia, with difficulty