Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress Volume III Part 39

"As to these sort of things," said Mr Hobson, "I can't say I am much versed in them, by reason they are things I never much studied; but if I was to speak my notion, it is this; the best way to thrive in the world is to get money; but how is it to be got? Why by business: for business is to money, what fine words are to a lady, a sure road to success. Now I don't mean by this to be censorious upon the ladies, being they have nothing else to go by, for as to examining if a man knows any thing of the world, and that, they have nothing whereby to judge, knowing nothing of it themselves. So that when they are taken in by rogues and sharpers, the fault is all in the law, for making no proviso against their having money in their own hands. Let every one be trusted according to their headpiece and what I say is this: a lady in them cases is much to be pitied, for she is obligated to take a man upon his own credit, which is tantamount to no credit at all, being what man will speak an ill word of himself? you may as well expect a bad shilling to cry out don't take me!

That's what I say, and that's my way of giving my vote."

Cecilia, quite tired of these interruptions, and impatient to be gone, now said to Belfield, "I should be much obliged to you, Sir, if you could send to me the man you speak of tomorrow morning. I wished, also to consult you with regard to the route I ought to take. My purpose is to go to Nice, and as I am very desirous to travel expeditiously, you may perhaps be able to instruct me what is the best method for me to pursue."

"Come, Mr Hobson and Mr Simkins," cried Mrs Belfield, with a look of much significance and delight, "suppose you two and I was to walk into the next room? There's no need for us to hear all the young lady may have a mind to say."

"She has nothing to say, madam," cried Cecilia, "that the whole world may not hear. Neither is it my purpose to talk, but to listen, if Mr Belfield is at leisure to favour me with his advice."

"I must always be at leisure, and always be proud, madam," Belfield began, when Hobson, interrupting him, said, "I ask pardon, Sir, for intruding, but I only mean to wish the young lady good night. As to interfering with business, that's not my way, for it's not the right method, by reason--"

"We will listen to your reason, Sir," cried Belfield, "some other time; at present we will give you all credit for it unheard."

"Let every man speak his own maxim, Sir," cried Hobson; "for that's what I call fair arguing: but as to one person's speaking, and then making an answer for another into the bargain, why it's going to work no-how; you may as well talk to a counter, and think because you make a noise upon it with your own hand, it gives you the reply."

"Why, Mr Hobson," cried Mrs Belfield, "I am quite ashamed of you for being so dull! don't you see my son has something to say to the lady that you and I have no business to be meddling with?"

"I'm sure, ma'am, for my part," said Mr Simkins, "I'm very agreeable to going away, for as to putting the young lady to the blush, it's what I would not do in no shape."

"I only mean," said Mr Hobson, when he was interrupted by Mrs Belfield, who, out of all patience, now turned him out of the room by the shoulders, and, pulling Mr Simkins after, followed herself, and shut the door, though Cecilia, much provoked, desired she would stay, and declared repeatedly that all her business was public.

Belfield, who had, looked ready to murder them all during this short scene, now approached Cecilia, and with an air of mingled spirit and respect, said, "I am much grieved, much confounded, madam, that your ears should be offended by speeches so improper to reach them; yet if it is possible I can have the honour of being of any use to you, in me, still, I hope, you feel you may confide. I am too distant from you in situation to give you reason to apprehend I can form any sinister views in serving you; and, permit me to add, I am too near you in mind, ever to give you the pain of bidding me remember that distance."

Cecilia then, extremely unwilling to shock a sensibility not more generous than jealous, determined to continue her enquiries, and, at the same time, to prevent any further misapprehension, by revealing her actual situation.

"I am sorry, Sir," she answered, "to have occasioned this disturbance; Mrs Belfield, I find, is wholly unacquainted with the circ.u.mstance which now carries me abroad, or it would not have happened."

Here a little noise in the pa.s.sage interrupting her, she heard Mrs Belfield, though in a low voice, say, "Hush, Sir, hush! you must not come in just now; you've caught me, I confess, rather upon the listening order; but to tell you the truth, I did not know what might be going forward. However, there's no admittance now, I a.s.sure you, for my son's upon particular business with a lady, and Mr Hobson and Mr Simkins and I, have all been as good as turned out by them but just now."

Cecilia and Belfield, though they heard this speech with mutual indignation, had no time to mark or express it, as it was answered without in a voice at once loud and furious, "_You_, madam, may be content to listen here; pardon me if I am less humbly disposed!" And the door was abruptly opened by young Delvile!

Cecilia, who half screamed from excess of astonishment, would scarcely, even by the presence of Belfield and his mother, have been restrained from flying to meet him, had his own aspect invited such a mark of tenderness; but far other was the case; when the door was open, he stopt short with a look half petrified, his feet seeming rooted to the spot upon which they stood.

"I declare I ask pardon, ma'am," cried Mrs Belfield, "but the interruption was no fault of mine, for the gentleman would come in; and--"

"It is no interruption, madam;" cried Belfield, "Mr Delvile does me nothing but honour."

"I thank you, Sir!" said Delvile, trying to recover and come forward, but trembling violently, and speaking with the most frigid coldness.

They were then, for a few instants, all silent; Cecilia, amazed by his arrival, still more amazed by his behaviour, feared to speak lest he meant not, as yet, to avow his marriage, and felt a thousand apprehensions that some new calamity had hurried him home: while Belfield was both hurt by his strangeness, and embarra.s.sed for the sake of Cecilia; and his mother, though wondering at them all, was kept quiet by her son's looks.

Delvile then, struggling for an appearance of more ease, said, "I seem to have made a general confusion here:--pray, I beg"--

"None at all, Sir," said Belfield, and offered a chair to Cecilia.

"No, Sir," she answered, in a voice scarce audible, "I was just going."

And again rang the bell.

"I fear I hurry you, madam?" cried Delvile, whose whole frame was now shaking with uncontrollable emotion; "you are upon business--I ought to beg your pardon--my entrance, I believe, was unseasonable."--

"Sir!" cried she, looking aghast at this speech.

"I should have been rather surprised," he added, "to have met you here, so late,--so unexpectedly,--so deeply engaged--had I not happened to see your servant in the street, who told me the honour I should be likely to have by coming."

"Good G.o.d!--" exclaimed she, involuntarily; but, checking herself as well as she could, she courtsied to Mrs Belfield, unable to speak to her, and avoiding even to look at Belfield, who respectfully hung back, she hastened out of the room: accompanied by Mrs Belfield, who again began the most voluble and vulgar apologies for the intrusion she had met with.

Delvile also, after a moment's pause, followed, saying, "Give me leave, madam, to see you to your carriage."

Cecilia then, notwithstanding Mrs Belfield still kept talking, could no longer refrain saying, "Good heaven, what does all this mean?"

"Rather for _me_ is that question," he answered, in such agitation he could not, though he meant it, a.s.sist her into the chaise, "for mine, I believe, is the greater surprise!"

"What surprise?" cried she, "explain, I conjure you!"

"By and bye I will," he answered; "go on postilion."

"Where, Sir?"

"Where you came from, I suppose."

"What, Sir, back to Rumford?"

"Rumford!" exclaimed he, with encreasing disorder, "you came then from Suffolk hither?--from Suffolk to this very house?"

"Good heaven!" cried Cecilia, "come into the chaise, and let me speak and hear to be understood!"

"Who is that now in it?"

"My Maid."

"Your maid?--and she waits for you thus at the door?"--

"What, what is it you mean?"

"Tell the man, madam, whither to go."

"I don't know myself--any where you please--do you order him."

"I order him!--you came not hither to receive orders from _me_!--where was it you had purposed to rest?"

"I don't know--I meant to go to Mrs Hill's--I have no place taken."--

"No place taken!" repeated he, in a voice faultering between pa.s.sion and grief; "you purposed, then, to stay here?--I have perhaps driven you away?"

"Here!" cried Cecilia, mingling, in her turn, indignation with surprise, "gracious heaven! what is it you mean to doubt?"

"Nothing!" cried he, with emphasis, "I never have had, I never _will_ have a doubt! I will know, I will have _conviction_ for every thing!

Postilion, drive to St James's-square!--to Mr Delvile's. There, madam, I will wait upon you."

"No! stay, postilion!" called out Cecilia, seized with terror inexpressible; "let me get out, let me speak with you at once!"