her
conversation entertaining and agreeable."

"Yes," said Mrs Delvile, "but that light sort of wit which attacks,
with equal alacrity, what is serious or what is gay, is twenty times
offensive, to once that it is exhilarating; since it shews that while
its only aim is self-diversion, it has the most insolent negligence
with respect to any pain it gives to others. The rank of Lady Honoria,
though it has not rendered her proud, nor even made her conscious she
has any dignity to support, has yet given her a saucy indifference
whom she pleases or hurts, that borders upon what in a woman is of all
things the most odious, a daring defiance of the world and its
opinions."

Cecilia, never less disposed to enter upon her defence, made but
little answer; and, soon after, Mrs Delvile added, "I heartily wish
she were properly established; and yet, according to the pernicious
manners and maxims of the present age, she is perhaps more secure from
misconduct while single, than she will be when married. Her father, I
fear, will leave her too much to herself, and in that case I scarce
know what may become of her; she has neither judgment nor principle to
direct her choice, and therefore, in all probability, the same whim
which one day will guide it, will the next lead her to repent it."

Again they were both silent; and then Mrs Delvile, gravely, yet with
energy exclaimed, "How few are there, how very few, who marry at once
upon principles rational, and feelings pleasant! interest and
inclination are eternally at strife, and where either is wholly
sacrificed, the other is inadequate to happiness. Yet how rarely do
they divide the attention! the young are rash, and the aged are
mercenary; their deliberations are never in concert, their views are
scarce ever blended; one vanquishes, and the other submits; neither
party temporizes, and commonly each is unhappy."

"The time," she continued, "is now arrived when reflections of this
sort cannot too seriously occupy me; the errors I have observed in
others, I would fain avoid committing; yet such is the blindness of
self-love, that perhaps, even at the moment I censure them, I am
falling, without consciousness, into the same! nothing, however, shall
through negligence be wrong; for where is the son who merits care and
attention, if Mortimer from his parents deserves not to meet them?"

The expectations of Cecilia were now again awakened, and awakened with
fresh terrors lest Mrs Delvile, from compassion, meant to offer her
services; vigorously, therefore, she determined to exert herself, and
rather give up Mortimer and all thoughts of him for ever, than submit
to receive assistance in persuading him to the union.

"Mr Delvile," she continued, "is most earnest and impatient that some
alliance should take place without further delay; and for myself,
could I see him with propriety and with happiness disposed of, what a
weight of anxiety would be removed from my heart!"

Cecilia now made an effort to speak, attempting to say "Certainly, it
is a matter of great consequence;" but so low was her voice, and so
confused her manner, that Mrs Delvile, though attentively listening,
heard not a word. She forbore, however, to make her repeat what she
said, and went on herself as if speaking in answer.

"Not only his own, but the peace of his whole family will depend upon
his election, since he is the last of his race. This castle and
estate, and another in the north, were entailed upon him by the late
Lord Delvile, his grandfather, who, disobliged by his eldest son, the
present lord, left every thing he had power to dispose of to his
second son, Mr Delvile, and at his death, to his grandson, Mortimer.
And even the present lord, though always at variance with his brother,
is fond of his nephew, and has declared him his heir. I, also, have
one sister, who is rich, who has no children, and who has made the
same declaration. Yet though with such high expectations, he must not
connect himself imprudently; for his paternal estate wants repair, and
he is well entitled with a wife to expect what it requires."

Most true! thought Cecilia, yet ashamed of her recent failure, she
applied herself to her work, and would not again try to speak.

"He is amiable, accomplished, well educated, and well born; far may we
look, and not meet with his equal; no woman need disdain, and few
women would refuse him."

Cecilia blushed her concurrence; yet could well at that moment have
spared hearing the eulogy.

"Yet how difficult," she continued, "to find a proper alliance! there
are many who have some recommendations, but who is there wholly
unexceptionable?"

This question seemed unanswerable; nor could Cecilia devise what it
meant.

"Girls of high family have but seldom large fortunes, since the heads
of their house commonly require their whole wealth for the support of
their own dignity; while on the other hand, girls of large fortune are
frequently ignorant, insolent, or low born; kept up by their friends
lest they should fall a prey to adventurers, they have no acquaintance
with the world, and little enlargement from education; their
instructions are limited to a few merely youthful accomplishments; the
first notion they imbibe is of their own importance, the first lesson
they are taught is the value of riches, and even from their cradles,
their little minds are narrowed, and their self-sufficiency is
excited, by cautions to beware of fortune-hunters, and assurances that
the whole world will be at their feet. Among such should we seek a
companion for Mortimer? surely not. Formed for domestic happiness, and
delighting in elegant society, his mind would disdain an alliance in
which its affections had no share."

Cecilia colouring and trembling, thought now the moment of her trial
was approaching, and half mortified and half frightened prepared
herself to sustain it with firmness.

"I venture, therefore, my dear Miss Beverley, to speak to you upon
this subject as a friend who will have patience to hear my
perplexities; you see upon what they hang,--where the birth is such as
Mortimer Delvile may claim, the fortune generally fails; and where the
fortune is adequate to his expectations, the birth yet more frequently
would disgrace us."

Cecilia, astonished by this speech, and quite off her guard from
momentary surprize, involuntarily raised her head to look at Mrs
Delvile, in whose countenance she observed the most anxious concern,
though her manner of speaking had seemed placid and composed.

"Once," she continued, without appearing to remark the emotion of her
auditor, "Mr Delvile thought of uniting him with his cousin Lady
Honoria; but he never could endure the proposal; and who shall blame
his repugnance? her sister, indeed, Lady Euphrasia, is much
preferable, her education has been better, and her fortune is much
more considerable. At present, however, Mortimer seems greatly averse
to her, and who has a right to be difficult, if we deny it to him?"

Wonder, uncertainty, expectation and suspence now all attacked
Cecilia, and all harassed her with redoubled violence; why she was
called to this conference she knew not; the approbation she had
thought so certain, she doubted, and the proposal of assistance she
had apprehended, she ceased to think would be offered some fearful
mystery, some cruel obscurity, still clouded all her prospects, and
not merely obstructed her view of the future, but made what was
immediately before her gloomy and indistinct.

The state of her mind seemed read by Mrs Delvile, who examined her
with eyes of such penetrating keenness, that they rather made
discoveries than enquiries. She was silent some time, and looked
irresolute how to proceed; but at length, she arose, and taking
Cecilia by the hand, who almost drew it back from her dread of what
would follow, she said "I will torment you no more, my sweet young
friend, with perplexities which you cannot relieve: this only I will
say, and then drop the subject for ever; when my solicitude for
Mortimer is removed, and he is established to the satisfaction of us
all, no care will remain in the heart of his mother, half so fervent,
so anxious and so sincere as the disposal of my amiable Cecilia, for
whose welfare and happiness my wishes are even maternal."

She then kissed her glowing cheek, and perceiving her almost stupified
with astonishment, spared her any effort to speak, by hastily leaving
her in possession of her room.

Undeceived in her expectations and chilled in her hopes, the heart of
Cecilia no longer struggled to sustain its dignity, or conceal its
tenderness; the conflict was at an end, Mrs Delvile had been open,
though her son was mysterious; but, in removing her doubts, she had
bereft her of her peace. She now found her own mistake in building
upon her approbation; she saw nothing was less in her intentions, and
that even when most ardent in affectionate regard, she separated her
interest from that of her son as if their union was a matter of utter
impossibility. "Yet why," cried Cecilia, "oh why is it deemed so! that
she loves me, she is ever eager to proclaim, that my fortune would be,
peculiarly useful, she makes not a secret, and that I, at least,
should start no insuperable objections, she has, alas! but too
obviously discovered! Has she doubts of her son?--no, she has too much
discernment; the father, then, the haughty, impracticable father, has
destined him for some woman of rank, and will listen to no other
alliance."

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.



CHAPTER ix.

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."

"Say to him what you please for yourself," cried Cecilia, "but let me
entreat you to say nothing for me."

"And my Lord Derford," continued she, "will make an excessive pretty
Paris, for he is vastly in love, though he has got nothing to say; but
what shall we do for a Mercutio? we may find