This notion somewhat soothed her in the disappointment
she suffered; yet to know herself betrayed to Mrs
Delvile, and to see no other consequence ensue but
that of exciting a tender compassion, which led her
to discourage, from benevolence, hopes too high to
be indulged, was a mortification so severe, that it
caused her a deeper depression of spirits than any
occurrence of her life had yet occasioned.
“What Henrietta Belfield is to me,” she
cried, “I am to Mrs Delvile! but what in her
is amiable and artless, in me is disgraceful and unworthy.
And this is the situation which so long I have desired!
This is the change of habitation which I thought would
make me so happy! oh who can chuse, who can judge
for himself? who can point out the road to his own
felicity, or decide upon the spot where his peace will
be ensured!”
Still, however, she had something to do, some spirit
to exert, and some fortitude to manifest: Mortimer,
she was certain, suspected not his own power; his
mother, she knew, was both too good and too wise to
reveal it to him, and she determined, by caution and
firmness upon his leave-taking and departure, to
retrieve, if possible, that credit with Mrs Delvile,
which she feared her betrayed susceptibility had weakened.
As soon, therefore, as she recovered from her consternation,
she quitted Mrs Delvile’s apartment, and seeking
Lady Honoria herself, determined not to spend even
a moment alone, till Mortimer was gone; lest the sadness
of her reflections should overpower her resolution,
and give a melancholy to her air and manner which he
might attribute, with but too much justice, to concern
upon his own account.
AN ATTACK.
At dinner, with the assistance of Lord Ernolf, who
was most happy to give it, Cecilia seemed tolerably
easy. Lord Derford, too, encouraged by his father,
endeavoured to engage some share of her attention;
but he totally failed; her mind was superior to little
arts of coquetry, and her pride had too much dignity
to evaporate in pique; she determined, therefore,
at this time, as at all others, to be consistent in
shewing him he had no chance of her favour.
At tea, when they were again assembled, Mortimer’s
journey was the only subject of discourse, and it
was agreed that he should set out very early in the
morning, and, as the weather was extremely hot, not
travel at all in the middle of the day.
Lady Honoria then, in a whisper to Cecilia, said,
“I suppose, Miss Beverley, you will rise with
the lark to-morrow morning? for your health, I mean.
Early rising, you know, is vastly good for you.”
Cecilia, affecting not to understand her, said she
should rise, she supposed, at her usual time.
“I’ll tell Mortimer, however,” returned
her ladyship, “to look up at your window before
he goes off; for if he will play Romeo, you, I dare
say, will play Juliet, and this old castle is quite
the thing for the musty family of the Capulets:
I dare say Shakespeare thought of it when he wrote
of them.”
