Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress. Volume 2. Burney Fanny

from, the second; yet the evening was to him as painful as to Cecilia, since he now knew that whatever prosperity’ might ultimately attend his address and assiduity, her heart was not her own to bestow; and that even were he sure of young Delvile’s indifference, and actually at liberty to make proposals for himself, the time of being first in her esteem was at an end, and the long-earned good opinion which he had hoped would have ripened into affection, might now be wholly undermined by the sudden impression of a lively stranger, without trouble to himself, and perhaps without pleasure!

      Reflections such as these wholly embittered the delight he had promised himself from dancing with her, and took from him all power to combat the anxiety with which she was seized; when the second cotillon, therefore, was over, instead of following her to a seat, or taking the privilege of his present situation to converse with her, the jealousy rising in his breast robbed him of all satisfaction, and gave to him no other desire than to judge its justice by watching her motions at a distance.

      Mean while Cecilia, inattentive whether he accompanied or quitted her proceeded to the first vacant seat. Young Delvile was standing near it, and, in a short time, but rather as if he could not avoid than as if he wished it, he came to enquire how she did.

      The simplest question, in the then situation of her mind, was sufficient to confuse her, and though she answered, she hardly knew what he had asked. A minute’s recollection, however, restored an apparent composure, and she talked to him of Mrs Delvile, with her usual partial regard for that lady, and with an earnest endeavour to seem unconscious of any alteration in his behaviour.

      Yet, to him, even this trifling and general conversation was evidently painful, and he looked relieved by the approach of Sir Robert Floyer, who soon after joined them.

      At this time a young lady who was sitting by Cecilia, called to a servant who was passing, for a glass of lemonade; Cecilia desired he would bring her one also; but Delvile, not sorry to break off the discourse, said he would himself be her cup-bearer, and for that purpose went away.

      A moment after, the servant returned with some lemonade to Cecilia’s neighbour, and Sir Robert, taking a glass from him, brought it to Cecilia at the very instant young Delvile came with another.

      “I think I am before hand with you, Sir,” said the insolent Baronet.

      “No, Sir,” answered young Delvile, “I think we were both in together; Miss Beverley, however, is steward of the race, and we must submit to her decision.”

      “Well, madam,” cried Sir Robert, “here we stand, waiting your pleasure. Which is to be the happy man!”

      “Each, I hope,” answered Cecilia, with admirable presence of mind, “since I expect no less than that you will both do me the honour of drinking my health.”

      This little contrivance, which saved her alike from shewing favour or giving offence, could not but be applauded by both parties; and while they obeyed her orders, she took a third glass herself from the servant.

      While this was passing, Mr Briggs, again perceiving her, stumpt hastily towards her, calling out “Ah ha! my duck! what’s that? got something nice? Come here, my lad, taste it myself.”

      He then took a glass, but having only put it to his mouth, made a wry face, and returned it, saying “Bad! bad! poor punch indeed!—not a drop of rum in it!

      “So much the better, Sir,” cried Morrice, who diverted himself by following him, “for then you see the master of the house spares in something, and you said he spared in nothing.”

      “Don’t spare in fools!” returned Mr Briggs, “keeps them in plenty.”

      “No, Sir, nor in any out of the way characters,” answered Morrice.

      “So much the worse,” cried Briggs, “so much the worse! Eat him out of house and home; won’t leave him a rag to his back nor a penny in his pocket. Never mind ‘em, my little duck; mind none of your guardians but me; t’other two a’n’t worth a rush.”

      Cecilia, somewhat ashamed of this speech, looked towards young Delvile, in whom it occasioned the first smile she had seen that evening.

      “Been looking about for you!” continued Briggs, nodding sagaciously; “believe I’ve found one will do. Guess what I mean;—£100,0000—hay?—what say to that? any thing better at the west end of the town?”

      “£100,000!” cried Morrice, “and pray, Sir, who may this be?”

      “Not you, Mr jackanapes! sure of that. A’n’t quite positive he’ll have you, neither. Think he will, though.”

      “Pray; Sir, what age is he?” cried the never daunted Morrice.

      “Why about—let’s see—don’t know, never heard,—what signifies?”

      “But, Sir, he’s an old man, I suppose, by being so rich?”

      “Old? no, no such thing; about my own standing.”

      “What, Sir, and do you propose him for an husband to Miss Beverley?”

      “Why not? know ever a one warmer? think Master Harrel will get her a better? or t’other old Don, in the grand square?”

      “If you please, Sir,” cried Cecilia hastily, “we will talk of this matter another time.”

      “No, pray,” cried young Delvile, who could not forbear laughing, “let it be discussed now.”

      “Hate ‘em,” continued Mr Briggs, “hate ‘em both! one spending more than he’s worth, cheated and over-reached by fools, running into gaol to please a parcel of knaves; t’other counting nothing but uncles and grandfathers, dealing out fine names instead of cash, casting up more cousins than guineas—”

      Again Cecilia endeavoured to silence him, but, only chucking her under the chin, he went on, “Ay, ay, my little duck, never mind ‘em; one of ‘em i’n’t worth a penny, and t’other has nothing in his pockets but lists of the defunct. What good will come of that? would not give twopence a dozen for ‘em! A poor set of grandees, with nothing but a tie-wig for their portions!”

      Cecilia, unable to bear this harangue in the presence of young Delvile, who, however, laughed it off with a very good grace, arose with an intention to retreat, which being perceived by Sir Robert Floyer, who had attended to this dialogue with haughty contempt, he came forward, and said, “now then, madam, may I have the honour of your hand?”

      “No, Sir,” answered Cecilia, “I am engaged.”

      “Engaged again?” cried he, with the air of a man who thought himself much injured.

      “Glad of it, glad of it!” said Mr Briggs; “served very right! have nothing to say to him, my chick!”

      “Why not, Sir?” cried Sir Robert, with an imperious look.

      “Sha’n’t have her, sha’n’t have her! can tell you that; won’t consent; know you of old.”

      “And what do you know of me, pray Sir?”

      “No good, no good; nothing to say to you; found fault with my nose! ha’n’t forgot it.”

      At this moment Mr Marriot came to claim his partner, who, very willing to quit this scene of wrangling and vulgarity, immediately attended him. Miss Larolles, again flying up to her, said “O my dear, we are all expiring to know who that creature is! I never saw such a horrid fright in my life!”

      Cecilia was beginning to satisfy her, but some more young ladies coming up to join in the request, she endeavoured to pass on; “O but,” cried Miss Larolles, detaining her, “do pray stop, for I’ve something to tell you that’s so monstrous you’ve no idea. Do you know Mr Meadows has not danced at all! and he’s been standing with Mr Sawyer, and looking on all the time, and whispering and laughing so you’ve no notion. However, I assure you, I’m excessive glad he did not ask me, for all I have been sitting still all this time, for I had a great deal rather sit still, I assure you; only I’m sorry I put on this dress, for any thing would have done just to look on in that stupid manner.”

      Here Mr Meadows