CHAPTER VII.

A SOLUTION.

DURING the ride to town, not merely Cecilia, but

Delvile himself attended wholly to Mrs. Harrel, whose grief, as it became less violent, was more easy to be soothed.

The distress of this eventful night was however not yet over; when they came to Portland-square, Delvile eagerly called to the coachman not to drive up to the house, and anxiously begged Cecilia and Mrs. Harrel to sit still while he went out himself to make some enquiries. They were surprised at the request, yet immediately consented; but before he had quitted them, Davison, who was watching their return, came up to them with information that an execution was then in the house.

Fresh misery was now opened for Mrs. Harrel, and fresh horror and perplexity for Cecilia. She had no longer, however, the whole weight either of thought or of conduct upon herself; Delvile in her cares took the most animated interest; and beseeching her to wait a moment and appease her friend, he went himself into the house to learn the state of the affair.

He returned in a few minutes, and seemed in no haste to communicate what he had heard, but entreated them both to go immediately to St. James's-square.

Cecilia felt extremely fearful of offending his father by the introduction of Mrs. Harrel; yet she had nothing better to propose, and therefore, after a short and distressed argument, she complied.

Delvile then told her that the alarm of his mother, at which he had already hinted, proceeded from a rumour of this -the variety-the contrast of the different characters quite new and unhackneyed, and yet perfectly in nature; and the dreadful catastrophe that concludes the whole makes it a masterpiece."-Mr. Crisp to Miss Burney, Sept. 25, 1782.

very misfortune, to which, though they knew not whether they might give credit, was owing the anxiety which at so late an hour had induced him to go to Vauxhall in search of her.

They gained admittance without any disturbance, as the servant of young Delvile had been ordered to sit up for his master. Cecilia much disliked thus taking possession of the house in the night-time, though Delvile, solicitous to relieve her, desired she would not waste a thought upon the subject, and making his servant show her the room which had been prepared for her reception, he begged her to compose her spirits, and to comfort her friend, and promised to acquaint his father and mother, when they arose, with what had happened, that she might be saved all pain from surprise or curiosity when they met.

This service she thankfully accepted, for she dreaded, after the liberty she had taken, to encounter the pride of Mr. Delvile without some previous apology; and she feared still more to see his lady without the same preparation, as her frequent breach of appointment might reasonably have offended her, and as her displeasure would affect her more deeply.

It was now near six o'clock, yet the hours seemed as long as they were melancholy till the family arose. Ther settled to remain quiet till some message was sent to them: but before any arrived, Mrs. Harrel, who was seated upon the bed, wearied by fatigue and sorrow, cried herself to sleep like a child.

Cecilia rejoiced in seeing this reprieve from affliction, though her keener sensations unfitted her from partaking of it. Much indeed was the uneasiness which kept her awake; the care of Mrs. Harrel seemed to devolve upon herself, the reception she might meet from the Delviles was uncertain, and the horrible adventures of the night refused for a moment to quit her remembrance.

At ten o'clock, a message was brought from Mrs. Delvile, to know whether they were ready for breakfast.

Mrs. Harrel was still asleep, but Cecilia carried her own answer by hastening down stairs.

In her way she was met by young Delvile, whose air, upon first approaching her, spoke him again prepared to

address her with the most distant gravity: but almost the moment he looked at her, he forgot his purpose; her paleness, the heaviness of her eyes, and the fatigue of long watching betrayed by her whole face, again surprised him into all the tenderness of anxiety, and he enquired after her health not as a compliment of civility, but as a question in which his whole heart was most deeply interested.

Cecilia thanked him for his attention to her friend the night before, and then proceeded to his mother.

Mrs. Delvile, coming forward to meet her, removed at once all her fears of displeasure, and banished all necessity of apology, by instantly embracing her, and warmly exclaiming," Charming Miss Beverley! how shall I ever tell you half the admiration with which I have heard of your conduct! The exertion of so much fortitude, at a juncture when a weaker mind would have been overpowered by terror; and a heart less under the dominion of well-regulated principles, would have sought only its own relief by flying from distress and confusion, shows such propriety of mind as can only result from the union of good sense with virtue. You are indeed a noble creature! I thought so from the moment I beheld you; I shall think so, I hope, to the last that I live!"

Cecilia, penetrated with joy and gratitude, felt in that instant the amplest recompense for all that she had suffered, and for all that she had lost. Such praise from Mrs. Delvile was alone sufficient to make her happy; but when she considered whence it sprung, and that the circumstances with which she was so much struck, must have been related to her by her son, her delight was augmented to an emotion the most pleasing she could experience, from seeing how high she was held in the esteem of those who were highest in her own.

Mrs. Delvile then, with the utmost cordiality, began to talk of her affairs, saving her the pain of proposing the change of habitation that now seemed unavoidable, by an immediate invitation to her house, which she made with as much delicacy as if Mr. Harrel's had still been open to her, and choice, not necessity, had directed her removal. The whole family, she told her, went into the country in two days; and she hoped that a new scene, with quietness and

early hours, would restore both the bloom and sprightliness which her late cares and restlessness had injured. And though she very seriously lamented the rash action of Mr. Harrel, she much rejoiced in the acquisition which her own house and happiness would receive from her society.

She next discussed the situation of her widowed friend, and Cecilia produced the packet which had been entrusted to her by her late husband. Mrs. Delvile advised her to open it in the presence of Mr. Arnott, and begged her to send any other of her friends she might wish to see or consult, and to claim freely from herself whatever advice or assistance she could bestow.

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And then, without waiting for Mr. Delvile, she suffered her to swallow a hasty breakfast, and return to Mrs. Harrel, whom she had desired the servants to attend, as she concluded that in her present situation she would not choose to make her appearance.

Cecilia, lightened now from all her own cares, more pleased than ever with Mrs. Delvile, and enchanted that at last she was settled under her roof, went back with as much ability as inclination to give comfort to Mrs. Harrel. She found her but just awaking, and scarce yet conscious where she was, or why not in her own house.

As her powers of recollection returned, she was soothed with the softest compassion by Cecilia, who, in pursuance of Mrs. Delvile's advice, sent her servant in search of Mr. Arnott, and in consequence of her permission, wrote a note of invitation to Mr. Monckton.

Mr. Arnott, who was already in town, soon arrived; his own man, whom he had left to watch the motions of Mr. Harrel, having early in the morning rode to the place of his retreat, with the melancholy tidings of the suicide and execution.

Cecilia instantly went down stairs to him. The meeting was extremely painful to them both. Mr. Arnott severely blamed himself for his flight, believing it had hastened the fatal blow, which some further sacrifices might perhaps have eluded; and Cecilia half repented the advice she had given him, though the failure of her own efforts proved the situation of Mr. Harrel too desperate for remedy.

He then made the tenderest enquiries about his sister.

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and entreated her to communicate to him the minutest particulars of the dreadful transaction: after which, she produced the packet, but neither of them had the courage to break the seal; and concluding the contents would be no less than his last will, they determined some third should be present when they opened it. Cecilia wished much for Mr. Monckton, but as his being immediately found was uncertain, and the packet might consist of orders which ought not to be delayed, she proposed, for the sake of expedition, to call in Mr. Delvile.

Mr. Arnott readily agreed, and she sent to beg a moment's audience with that gentleman.

She was desired to walk into the breakfast-room, where he was sitting with his lady and his son.

Not such was now her reception as when she entered that apartment before. Mr. Delvile looked displeased and out of humour, and, making her a stiff bow, while his son brought her a chair, coldly said, "If you are hurried, Miss Beverley, I will attend you directly; if not, I will finish my breakfast, as I shall have but little time the rest of the morning, from the concourse of people upon business who will crowd upon me till dinner, most of whom will be extremely distressed if I leave town without contriving to see them."

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There is not the least occasion, sir," answered Cecilia, "that I should trouble you to quit the room: I merely came to beg you would have the goodness to be present, while Mr. Arnott opens a small packet which was last night put into my hands by Mr. Harrel."

"And has Mr. Arnott," answered he, somewhat sternly, "thought proper to send me such a request ? "

"No, sir," said Cecilia, "the request is mine; and if, as I now fear, it is impertinent, I must entreat you to forget it."

"As far as relates merely to yourself," returned Mr. Delvile, "it is another matter; but certainly Mr. Arnott can have no possible claim upon my time or attention; and I think it rather extraordinary, that a young man with whom I have no sort of connection or commerce, and whose very name is almost unknown to me, should suppose a person in my style of life so little occupied as to be wholly at his command."

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