her judgment was so well convinced that his painting was from the life, that she determined to conquer her partiality for young Delvile, since she looked forward to nothing but mortification in a connexion with his family.
CHAPTER 5
AN AGITATION
With this intention, and every faculty of her mind absorbed in reflecting upon the reasons which gave rise to it, she returned to Portman-square.
As her chair was carried into the hall, she observed, with some alarm, a look of consternation among the servants, and an appearance of confusion in the whole house. She was proceeding to her own room, intending to enquire of her maid if any evil had happened, when she was crossed upon the stairs by Mr Harrel, who passed her with an air so wild and perturbed, that he hardly seemed to know her.
Frightened and amazed, she stopt short, irresolute which way to go; but, hastily returning, he beckoned her to follow him.
She obeyed, and he led her to the library. He then shut the door, and abruptly seizing her hand, called out, “Miss Beverley, I am ruined! — I am undone! — I am blasted for ever!”
“I hope not, Sir!” said Cecilia, extremely terrified, “I hope not! Where is Mrs Harrel?”
“O I know not! I know not!” cried he, in a frantic manner, “but I have not seen her — I cannot see her — I hope I shall never see her more! —”
“O fie! fie!” said Cecilia, “let me call her, I beg; you should consult with her in this distress, and seek comfort from her affection.”
“From her affection?” repeated he, fiercely, “from her hatred you mean! do you not know that she, too, is ruined? Oh past redemption ruined! — and yet that I should hesitate, that I should a moment hesitate to conclude the whole business at once!”
“How dreadful!” cried Cecilia, “what horrible thing has happened?”
“I have undone Priscilla!” cried he, “I have blasted my credit! I have destroyed — no, not yet quite destroyed myself!”
“O yet nor ever!” cried Cecilia, whose agitation now almost equalled his own, “be not so desperate, I conjure you! speak to me more intelligibly — what does all this mean? How has it come to pass?”
“My debts! — my creditors! — one way only,” striking his hand upon his forehead, “is left for me!”
“Do not say so, Sir!” said Cecilia, “you shall find many ways; pray have courage! pray speak calmly; and if you will but be more prudent, will but, in future, better regulate your affairs, I will myself undertake —”
She stopt; checked in the full career of her overflowing compassion, by a sense of the worthlessness of its object; and by the remembrance of the injunctions of Mr Monckton.
“What will you undertake?” cried he, eagerly, “I know you are an angel! — tell me, what will you undertake?”
“I will — ” said Cecilia, hesitating, “I will speak to Mr Monckton, — I will consult —”
“You may as well consult with every cursed creditor in the house!” interrupted he; “but do so, if you please; my disgrace must perforce reach him soon, and a short anticipation is not worth begging off.”
“Are your creditors then actually in the house?”
“O yes, yes! and therefore it is high time I should be out of it! — Did you not see them? — Do they not line the hall? — They threaten me with three executions before night! — three executions unless I satisfy their immediate demands! —”
“And to what do their demands amount?”
“I know not! — I dare not ask! — to some thousand pounds, perhaps — and I have not, at this minute, forty guineas in the house!”
“Nay, then,” cried Cecilia, retreating, “I can indeed do nothing! if their demands are so high, I ought to do nothing.”
She would then have quitted him, not more shocked at his situation, than indignant at the wilful extravagance which had occasioned it.
“Stay,” cried he, “and hear me!” then, lowering his voice, “seek out,” he continued, “your unfortunate friend — go to the poor ruined Priscilla — prepare her for tidings of horror! and do not, though you renounce Me, do not abandon Her!”
Then, fiercely passing her, he was himself leaving the room; but Cecilia, alarmed by the fury of his manner, called out, “What is it you mean? what tidings of horror? whither are you going?”
“To hell!” cried he, and rushed out of the apartment.
Cecilia screamed aloud, and conjuring him to hear her, ran after him; he paid her no regard, but, flying faster than she had power to pursue, reached his own dressing-room, shut himself into it with violence, and just as she arrived at the door, turned the key, and bolted it.
Her terror was now inexpressible; she believed him in the very act of suicide, and her refusal of assistance seemed the signal for the deed: her whole fortune, at that moment, was valueless and unimportant to her, compared with the preservation of a fellow-creature: she called out with all the vehemence of agony to beg he would open the door, and eagerly promised by all that was sacred to do everything in her power to save him.
At these words he opened it; his face was totally without colour, and he grasped a razor in his hand.
“You have stopt me,” said he, in a voice scarce audible, “at the very moment I had gathered courage for the blow: but if indeed you will assist me, I will shut this up — if not, I will steep it in my blood!”
“I will! I will!” cried Cecilia, “I will do every thing you desire!”
“And quickly?”
“Immediately.”
“Before my disgrace is known? and while all may yet be hushed up?”
“Yes, yes! all — any — every thing you wish!”
“Swear, then!”
Here Cecilia drew back; her recollection returned as her terror abated, and her repugnance to entering into an engagement for she knew not what, with a man whose actions she condemned, and whose principles she abhorred, made all her fright now give way to indignation, and, after a short pause, she angrily answered, “No, Sir, I will not swear! — but yet, all that is reasonable, all that is friendly —”
“Hear me swear, then!” interrupted he, furiously, “which at this moment I do, by every thing eternal, and by every thing infernal, that I will not outlive the seizure of my property, and that the moment I am informed there is an execution in my house, shall be the last of my existence!”
“What cruelty! what compulsion! what impiety!” cried Cecilia: “give me, however, that horrible instrument, and prescribe to me what conditions you please.”
A
