Harrel, "leave me at Vauxhall, and yet leave me
alone?"

"What of that?" cried he with fierceness, "do you not desire to be
left? have you any regard for me? or for any thing upon earth but
yourself! cease these vain clamours, and come, I insist upon it, this
moment."

And then, with a violent oath, he declared he would be detained no
longer, and approached in great rage to seize her; Mrs Harrel shrieked
aloud, and the terrified Cecilia exclaimed, "If indeed you are to part
to-night, part not thus dreadfully!--rise, Mrs Harrel, and comply!--be
reconciled, be kind to her, Mr Harrel!--and I will go with her myself,
--we will all go together!"

"And why," cried Mr Harrel, more gently yet with the utmost emotion,
"why should _you_ go!--_you_ want no warning! _you_ need no terror!
--better far had you fly us, and my wife when I am set out may find you."

Mrs Harrel, however, suffered her not to recede; and Cecilia, though
half distracted by the scenes of horror and perplexity in which she
was perpetually engaged, ordered her servant to acquaint Mrs Delvile
she was again compelled to defer waiting upon her.

Mr Harrel then hurried them both into the coach, which he directed to
Vauxhall.

"Pray write to me when you are landed," said Mrs Harrel, who now
released from her personal apprehensions, began to feel some for her
husband.

He made not any answer. She then asked to what part of France he meant
to go: but still he did not reply: and when she urged him by a third
question, he told her in a rage to torment him no more.

During the rest of the ride not another word was Said; Mrs Harrel
wept, her husband guarded a gloomy silence, and Cecilia most
unpleasantly passed her time between anxious suspicions of some new
scheme, and a terrified wonder in what all these transactions would
terminate.



CHAPTER xii.

A MAN OF BUSINESS.


When they entered Vauxhall, Mr Harrel endeavoured to dismiss his
moroseness, and affecting his usual gaiety, struggled to recover his
spirits; but the effort was vain, he could neither talk nor look like
himself, and though from time to time he resumed his air of wonted
levity, he could not support it, but drooped and hung his head in
evident despondency.

He made them take several turns in the midst of the company, and
walked so fast that they could hardly keep pace with him, as if he
hoped by exercise to restore his vivacity; but every attempt failed,
he sunk and grew sadder, and muttering between his teeth "this is not
to be borne!" he hastily called to a waiter to bring him a bottle of
champagne.

Of this he drank glass after glass, notwithstanding Cecilia, as Mrs
Harrel had not courage to speak, entreated him to forbear. He seemed,
however, not to hear her; but when he had drunk what he thought
necessary to revive him, he conveyed them into an unfrequented part of
the garden, and as soon as they were out of sight of all but a few
stragglers, he suddenly stopt, and, in great agitation, said, "my
chaise will soon be ready, and I shall take of you a long farewell!--
all my affairs are unpropitious to my speedy return:--the wine is now
mounting into my head, and perhaps I may not be able to say much by
and by. I fear I have been cruel to you, Priscilla, and I begin to
wish I had spared you this parting scene; yet let it not be banished
your remembrance, but think of it when you are tempted to such mad
folly as has ruined us."

Mrs Harrel wept too much to make any answer; and turning from her to
Cecilia, "Oh Madam," he cried, "to _you_, indeed, I dare not
speak! I have used you most unworthily, but I pay for it all! I ask
you not to pity or forgive me, I know it is impossible you should do
either."

"No," cried the softened Cecilia, "it is not impossible, I do both at
this moment, and I hope--"

"Do not hope," interrupted he, "be not so angelic, for I cannot bear
it! benevolence like yours should have fallen into worthier hands. But
come, let us return to the company. My head grows giddy, but my heart
is still heavy; I must make them more fit companions for each other."

He would then have hurried them back; but Cecilia, endeavouring to
stop him, said "You do not mean, I hope, to call for more wine?"

"Why not?" cried he, with affected spirit, "what, shall we not be
merry before we part? Yes, we will all be merry, for if we are not,
how shall we part at all?--Oh not without a struggle!--" Then,
stopping, he paused a moment, and casting off the mask of levity, said
in accents the most solemn "I commit this packet to _you_,"
giving a sealed parcel to Cecilia; "had I written it later, its
contents had been kinder to my wife, for now the hour of separation
approaches, ill will and resentment subside. Poor Priscilla!--I am
sorry--but you will succour her, I am sure you will,--Oh had I known
you myself before this infatuation--bright pattern of all goodness!--
but I was devoted,--a ruined wretch before ever you entered my house;
unworthy to be saved, unworthy that virtues such as yours should dwell
under the same roof with me! But come,--come now, or my resolution
will waver, and I shall not go at last."

"But what is this packet?" cried Cecilia, "and why do you give it to
me?"

"No matter, no matter, you will know by and by;--the chaise waits, and
I must gather courage to be gone."

He then pressed forward, answering neither to remonstrance nor
intreaty from his frightened companions.

The moment they returned to the covered walk, they were met by Mr
Marriot; Mr Harrel, starting, endeavoured to pass him; but when he
approached, and said "you have sent, Sir, no answer to my letter!" he
stopt, and in a tone of forced politeness, said, "No, Sir, but I shall
answer it to-morrow, and to-night I hope you will do me the honour of
supping with me."

Mr Marriot, looking openly at Cecilia as his inducement, though
evidently regarding himself as an injured man, hesitated a moment, yet
accepted the invitation.

"To supper?" cried Mrs Harrel, "what here?"

"To supper?" repeated Cecilia, "and how are we to get home?"

"Think not of that these two hours," answered he; "come, let us look
for a box."

Cecilia then grew quite urgent with him to give up a scheme which must
keep them so late, and Mrs Harrel repeatedly exclaimed "Indeed people
will think it very odd to see us here without any party:" but he
heeded them not, and perceiving at some distance Mr Morrice, he called
out to him to find them a box; for the evening was very pleasant, and
the gardens were so much crowded that no accommodation was unseized.

"Sir," cried Morrice, with his usual readiness, "I'll get you one if I
turn out ten old Aldermen sucking custards."

Just after he was gone, a fat, sleek, vulgar-looking man, dressed in a
bright purple coat, with a deep red waistcoat, and a wig bulging far
from his head with small round curls, while his plump face and person
announced plenty and good living, and an air of defiance spoke the
fullness of his purse, strutted boldly up to Mr Harrel, and accosting
him in a manner that shewed some diffidence of his reception, but none
of his right, said "Sir your humble servant." And made a bow first to
him, and then to the ladies.

"Sir yours," replied Mr Harrel scornfully, and without touching his
hat he walked quickly on.

His fat acquaintance, who seemed but little disposed to be offended
with impunity, instantly replaced his hat on his head, and with a look
that implied _I'll fit you for this!_ put his hands to his sides,
and following him, said "Sir, I must make bold to beg the favour of
exchanging a few words with you."

"Ay, Sir," answered Mr Harrel, "come to me to-morrow, and you shall
exchange as many as you please."

"Nothing like the time present, Sir," answered the man; "as for
to-morrow, I believe it intends to come no more; for I have heard of it
any time these three years. I mean no reflections, Sir, but let every
man have his right. That's what I say, and that's my notion of things."

Mr Harrel, with a violent execration, asked what he meant by dunning
him at such a place as Vauxhall?

"One place, Sir," he replied, "is as good as another place; for so as
what one does is good, 'tis no matter for where it may be. A _man of
business_ never wants a counter if he can meet with a joint-stool.
For my part, I'm all for a clear conscience, and no bills without
receipts to them."

"And if you were all for broken bones," cried Mr Harrel, angrily, "I
would oblige you with them without delay."

"Sir," cried the man, equally provoked, "this is talking quite out of
character, for as to broken bones, there's ne'er a person in all
England, gentle nor simple, can say he's a right to break mine, for
I'm not a person of that sort, but a man of as good property as
another man; and there's ne'er a customer I have in the world that's
more his own man than myself."

"Lord bless me, Mr Hobson," cried Mrs Harrel, "don't follow us in this
manner! If we meet any of our acquaintance they'll think us half
crazy."

"Ma'am," answered Mr Hobson, again taking off his hat, "if I'm treated
with proper respect, no man will behave more generous than myself; but
if I'm affronted, all I can say is, it may go harder with some folks
than they think for."

Here a little mean-looking man, very thin, and almost bent double with
perpetual cringing, came up to Mr Hobson, and pulling him by the
sleeve, whispered, yet loud enough to be heard, "It's surprizeable to
me, Mr Hobson, you can behave so out of the way! For my part, perhaps
I've as much my due as another person, but I dares to say I shall have
it when it's convenient, and I'd scorn for to mislest a gentleman when
he's taking his pleasure."

"Lord bless me," cried Mrs Harrel, "what shall we do now? here's all
Mr Harrel's creditors coming upon us!"

"Do?" cried Mr Harrel, re-assuming an air of gaiety, "why give them
all a supper, to be sure. Come, gentlemen, will you favour me with
your company to supper?"

"Sir," answered Mr Hobson, somewhat softened by this unexpected
invitation, "I've supped this hour and more, and had my glass too, for
I'm as willing to spend my money as another man; only what I say is
this, I don't chuse to be cheated, for that's losing one's substance,
and getting no credit; however, as to drinking another glass, or such
a matter as that, I'll do it with all the pleasure in life."

"And as to me," said the other man, whose name was Simkins, and whose
head almost touched the ground by the profoundness of his reverence,
"I can't upon no account think of taking the liberty; but if I may
just stand without, I'll make bold to go so far as just for to drink
my humble duty to the ladies in a cup of cyder."

"Are you mad, Mr Harrel, are you mad!" cried his wife, "to think of
asking such people as these to supper? what will every body say?
suppose any of our acquaintance should see us? I am sure I shall die
with shame."

"Mad!" repeated he, "no, not mad but merry. O ho, Mr Morrice, why have
you been so long? what have you done for us?"

"Why Sir," answered Morrice, returning with a look somewhat less
elated than he had set out, "the gardens are so full, there is not a
box to be had: but I hope we shall get one for all that; for I
observed one of the best boxes in the garden, just to the right there,
with nobody in it but that gentleman who made me spill the tea-pot at
the Pantheon. So I made an apology, and told him the case; but he only
said _humph?_ and _hay?_ so then I told it all over again, but
he served me just the same, for he never seems to hear what one says
till one's just done, and then he begins to recollect one's speaking to
him; however, though I repeated it all over and over again, I could get
nothing from him but just that _humph?_ and _hay?_ but he is so
remarkably absent, that I dare say if we all go and sit down round him,
he won't know a word of the matter."

"Won't he?" cried Mr Harrel, "have at him, then!"

And he followed Mr Morrice, though Cecilia, who now half suspected
that all was to end in a mere idle frolic, warmly joined her
remonstrances to those of Mrs Harrel, which were made with the utmost,
but with fruitless earnestness.

Mr Meadows, who was seated in the middle of the box, was lolloping
upon the table with his customary ease, and picking his teeth with his
usual inattention to all about him. The intrusion, however, of so
large a party, seemed to threaten his insensibility with unavoidable
disturbance; though imagining they meant but to look in at the box,
and pass on, he made not at their first approach any alteration in his
attitude or employment.

"See, ladies," cried the officious Morrice, "I told you there was
room; and I am sure this gentleman will be very happy to make way for
you, if it's only out of good-nature