"Mortimer," interrupted Mrs Delvile, "forget not that what I have told you is irrevocable; you now meet Miss Beverley for no other purpose than to give and to receive a mutual release of all to or engagement with each other."
"Pardon me, madam," cried he, "this is a condition to which I have never a.s.sented. I come not to release, but to claim her! I am hers, and hers wholly! I protest it in the face of the world! The time, therefore, is now past for the sacrifice which you demand, since scarce are you more my mother, than I consider her as my wife."
Cecilia, amazed at this dauntless declaration, now almost lost her fear in her surprise; while Mrs Delvile, with an air calm though displeased, answered, "This is not a point to be at present discussed, and I had hoped you knew better what was due to your auditors. I only consented to this interview as a mark of your respect for Miss Beverley, to whom in propriety it belongs to break off this unfortunate connexion."
Cecilia, who at this call could no longer be silent, now gathered fort.i.tude to say, "Whatever tie or obligation may be supposed to depend upon me, I have already relinquished; and I am now ready to declare--"
"That you wholly give me up?" interrupted Delvile, "is that what you would say?--Oh how have I offended you? how have I merited a displeasure that can draw upon me such a sentence?--Answer, speak to me, Cecilia, what is it I have done?"
"Nothing, Sir," said Cecilia, confounded at this language in the presence of his mother, "you have done nothing,--but yet--"
"Yet what?--have you conceived to me an aversion? has any dreadful and horrible antipathy succeeded to your esteem?--tell, tell me without disguise, do you hate, do you abhor me?"
Cecilia sighed, and turned away her head; and Mrs Delvile indignantly exclaimed, "What madness and absurdity! I scarce know you under the influence of such irrational violence. Why will you interrupt Miss Beverley in the only speech you ought to hear from her? Why, at once, oppress her, and irritate me, by words of more pa.s.sion than reason?
Go on, charming girl, finish what so wisely, so judiciously you were beginning, and then you shall be released from this turbulent persecution."
"No, madam, she must not go on!" cried Delvile, "if she does not utterly abhor me, I will not suffer her to go on;--Pardon, pardon me, Cecilia, but your too exquisite delicacy is betraying not only my happiness, but your own. Once more, therefore, I conjure you to hear me, and then if, deliberately and unbia.s.sed, you renounce me, I will never more distress you by resisting your decree."
Cecilia, abashed and changing colour, was silent, and he proceeded.
"All that has past between us, the vows I have offered you of faith, constancy and affection, the consent I obtained from you to be legally mine, the bond of settlement I have had drawn up, and the high honour you conferred upon me in suffering me to lead you to the altar,--all these particulars are already known to so many, that the least reflection must convince you they will soon be concealed from none: tell me, then, if your own fame pleads not for me, and if the scruples which lead you to refuse, by taking another direction, will not, with much more propriety, urge, nay enjoin you to accept me!--You hesitate at least,--O Miss Beverley!--I see in that hesitation--"
"Nothing, nothing!" cried she, hastily, and checking her rising irresolution; "there is nothing for you to see, but that every way I now turn I have rendered myself miserable!"
"Mortimer," said Mrs Delvile, seized with terror as she penetrated into the mental yielding of Cecilia, "you have now spoken to Miss Beverley; and unwilling as I am to obtrude upon her our difference of sentiment, it is necessary, since she has heard you, that I, also, should claim her attention."
"First let her speak!" cried Delvile, who in her apparent wavering built new hopes, "first let her answer what she has already deigned to listen to."
"No, first let her hear!" cried Mrs Delvile, "for so only can she judge what answer will reflect upon her most honour."
Then, solemnly turning to Cecilia, she continued: "You see here, Miss Beverley, a young man who pa.s.sionately adores you, and who forgets in his adoration friends, family, and connections, the opinions in which he has been educated, the honour of his house, his own former views, and all his primitive sense of duty, both public and private!--A pa.s.sion built on such a defalcation of principle renders him unworthy your acceptance; and not more ign.o.ble for him would be a union which would blot his name from the injured stock whence he sprung, than indelicate for you, who upon such terms ought to despise him."
"Heavens, madam," exclaimed Delvile, "what a speech!"
"O never," cried Cecilia, rising, "may I hear such another! Indeed, madam, there is no occasion to probe me so deeply, for I would not now enter your family, for all that the whole world could offer me!"
"At length, then, madam," cried Delvile, turning reproachfully to his mother, "are you satisfied? is your purpose now answered? and is the dagger you have transfixed in my heart sunk deep enough to appease you?"
"O could I draw it out," cried Mrs Delvile, "and leave upon it no stain of ignominy, with what joy should my own bosom receive it, to heal the wound I have most compulsatorily inflicted!--Were this excellent young creature portionless, I would not hesitate in giving my consent; every claim of interest would be overbalanced by her virtues, and I would not grieve to see you poor, where so conscious you were happy; but here to concede, would annihilate every hope with which hitherto I have looked up to my son."
"Let us now, then, madam," said Cecilia, "break up this conference. I have spoken, I have heard, the decree is past, and therefore,"--
"You are indeed an angel!" cried Mrs Delvile, rising and embracing her; "and never can I reproach my son with what has pa.s.sed, when I consider for what an object the sacrifice was planned. _You_ cannot be unhappy, you have purchased peace by the exercise of virtue, and the close of every day will bring to you a reward, in the sweets of a self-approving mind.--But we will part, since you think it right; I do wrong to occasion any delay."
"No, we will _not_ part!" cried Delvile, with encreasing vehemence; "if you force me, madam, from her, you will drive me to distraction! What is there in this world that can offer me a recompense? And what can pride even to the proudest afford as an equivalent? Her perfections you acknowledge, her greatness of mind is like your own; she has generously given me her heart,--Oh sacred and fascinating charge! Shall I, after such a deposite, consent to an eternal separation? Repeal, repeal your sentence, my Cecilia! let us live to ourselves and our consciences, and leave the vain prejudices of the world to those who can be paid by them for the loss of all besides!"
"Is this conflict, then," said Mrs Delvile, "to last for-ever? Oh end it, Mortimer, finish it, and make me happy! she is just, and will forgive you, she is n.o.ble-minded, and will honour you. Fly, then, at this critical moment, for in flight alone is your safety; and then will your father see the son of his hopes, and then shall the fond blessings of your idolizing mother soothe all your affliction, and soften all your regret!"
"Oh madam!" cried Delvile, "for mercy, for humanity, forbear this cruel supplication!"
"Nay, more than supplication, you have my commands; commands you have never yet disputed, and misery, ten-fold misery, will follow their disobedience. Hear me, Mortimer, for I speak prophetically; I know your heart, I know it to be formed for rect.i.tude and duty, or destined by their neglect to repentance and horror."
Delvile, struck by these words, turned suddenly from them both, and in gloomy despondence walked to the other end of the room. Mrs Delvile perceived the moment of her power, and determined to pursue the blow: taking, therefore, the hand of Cecilia, while her eyes sparkled with the animation of reviving hope, "See," she cried, pointing to her son, "see if I am deceived! can he bear even the suggestion of future contrition!
Think you when it falls upon him, he will support it better? No; he will sink under it. And you, pure as you are of mind, and steadfast in principle, what would your chance be of happiness with a man who never erring till he knew you, could never look at you without regret, be his fondness what it might?"
"Oh madam," cried the greatly shocked Cecilia, "let him, then, see me no more!--take, take him all to yourself! forgive, console him! I will not have the misery of involving him in repentance, nor of incurring the reproaches of the mother he so much reverences!"
"Exalted creature!" cried Mrs Delvile; "tenderness such as this would confer honour upon a monarch." Then, calling out exultingly to her son, "See," she added, "how great a woman can act, when stimulated by generosity, and a just sense of duty! Follow then, at least, the example you ought to have led, and deserve my esteem and love, or be content to forego them."
"And can I only deserve them," said Delvile, in a tone of the deepest anguish, "by a compliance to which not merely my happiness, but my reason must be sacrificed? What honour do I injure that is not fact.i.tious? What evil threatens our union, that is not imaginary? In the general commerce of the world it may be right to yield to its prejudices, but in matters of serious importance, it is weakness to be shackled by scruples so frivolous, and it is cowardly to be governed by the customs we condemn. Religion and the laws of our country should then alone be consulted, and where those are neither opposed nor infringed, we should hold ourselves superior to all other considerations."
"Mistaken notions!" said Mrs Delvile; "and how long do you flatter yourself this independent happiness would endure? How long could you live contented by mere self-gratification, in defiance of the censure of mankind, the renunciation of your family, and the curses of your father?"
"The curses of my father!" repeated he, starting and shuddering, "O no, he could never be so barbarous!"
"He could," said she, steadily, "nor do I doubt but he would. If now, however, you are affected by the prospect of his disclaiming you, think but what you will feel when first forbid to appear before either of us!
and think of your remorse for involving Miss Beverley in such disgrace!"
"O speak not such words!" cried he, with agonizing earnestness, "to disgrace her,--to be banished by you,--present not, I conjure you, such scenes to my imagination!"
"Yet would they be unavoidable," continued she; "nor have I said to you all; blinded as you now are by pa.s.sion, your n.o.bler feelings are only obscured, not extirpated; think, then, how they will all rise in revenge of your insulted dignity, when your name becomes a stranger to your ears, and you are first saluted by one so meanly adopted!--"
"Hold, hold, madam," interrupted he, "this is more than I can bear!"
"Heavens!" still continued she, disregarding his entreaty, "what in the universe can pay you for that first moment of indignity! Think of it well ere you proceed, and antic.i.p.ate your sensations, lest the shock should wholly overcome you. How will the blood of your wronged ancestors rise into your guilty cheeks, and how will your heart throb with secret shame and reproach, when wished joy upon your marriage by the name of _Mr Beverley_!"
Delvile, stung to the soul, attempted not any answer, but walked about the room in the utmost disorder of mind. Cecilia would have retired, but feared irritating him to some extravagance; and Mrs Delvile, looking after him, added "For myself, I would still see, for I should pity your wife,--but NEVER would I behold my son when sunk into an object of compa.s.sion!"
"It shall not be!" cried he, in a transport of rage; "cease, cease to distract me!--be content, madam,--you have conquered!"
"Then you are my son!" cried she, rapturously embracing him; "now I know again my Mortimer! now I see the fair promise of his upright youth, and the flattering completion of my maternal expectations!"
Cecilia, finding all thus concluded, desired nothing so much as to congratulate them on their reconciliation; but having only said "Let _me_, too,--" her voice failed her, she stopt short, and hoping she had been unheard, would have glided out of the room.
But Delvile, penetrated and tortured, yet delighted at this sensibility, broke from his mother, and seizing her hand, exclaimed, "Oh Miss Beverley, if _you_ are not happy---"
"I am! I am!" cried she, with quickness; "let me pa.s.s,--and think no more of me."
"That voice,--those looks,--" cried he, still holding her, "they speak not serenity!--Oh if I have injured your peace,--if that heart, which, pure as angels, deserves to be as sacred from sorrow, through my means, or for my sake, suffers any diminution of tranquility--"
"None, none!" interrupted she, with precipitation.
"I know well," cried he, "your greatness of soul; and if this dreadful sacrifice gives lasting torture only to myself,--if of _your_ returning happiness I could be a.s.sured,--I would struggle to bear it."
"You _may_, be a.s.sured of it," cried she, with reviving dignity, "I have no right to expect escaping all calamity, but while I share the common lot, I will submit to it without repining."
"Heaven then bless, and hovering angels watch you!" cried he, and letting go her hand, he ran hastily out of the room.