Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress. Volume 1

“I hope so,” answered she, “because there is one man I suspect, and I should be sorry to find there was another equally disagreeable.”

“O, depend upon it,” cried he, “there are many who would be happy to confine you in the same manner; neither have you much cause for complaint; you have, doubtless, been the aggressor, and played this game yourself without mercy, for I read in your face the captivity of thousands: have you, then, any right to be offended at the spirit of retaliation which one, out of such numbers has courage to exert in return?”

“I protest,” cried Cecilia, “I took you for my defender! whence is it you are become my accuser?”

“From seeing the danger to which my incautious knight-errantry has exposed me; I begin, indeed, to take you for a very mischievous sort of person, and I fear the poor devil from whom I rescued you will be amply revenged for his disgrace, by finding that the first use you make of your freedom is to doom your deliverer to bondage.”

Here they were disturbed by the extreme loquacity of two opposite parties: and listening attentively, they heard from one side, “My angel! fairest of creatures! goddess of my heart!” uttered in accents of rapture; while from the other, the vociferation was so violent they could distinctly hear nothing.

The white domino satisfied his curiosity by going to both parties; and then, returning to Cecilia, said, “Can you conjecture who was making those soft speeches? a Shylock! his knife all the while in his hand, and his design, doubtless, to cut as near the heart as possible! while the loud cackling from the other side is owing to the riotous merriment of a noisy Mentor! when next I hear a disturbance, I shall expect to see some simpering Pythagoras stunned by his talkative disciples.”

“To own the truth,” said Cecilia, “the almost universal neglect of the characters assumed by these masquers has been the chief source of my entertainment this evening: for at a place of this sort, the next best thing to a character well supported is a character ridiculously burlesqued.”

“You cannot, then, have wanted amusement,” returned the domino, “for among all the persons assembled in these apartments, I have seen only three who have seemed conscious that any change but that of dress was necessary to disguise them.”

“And pray who are those?”

“A Don Quixote, a schoolmaster, and your friend the devil.”

“O, call him not my friend,” exclaimed Cecilia, “for indeed in or out of that garb he is particularly my aversion.”

“My friend, then, I will call him,” said the domino, “for so, were he ten devils, I must think him, since I owe to him the honour of conversing with you. And, after all, to give him his due, to which, you know, he is even proverbially entitled, he has shewn such abilities in the performance of his part, so much skill in the display of malice, and so much perseverance in the art of tormenting, that I cannot but respect his ingenuity and capacity. And, indeed, if instead of an evil genius, he had represented a guardian angel, he could not have shewn a more refined taste in his choice of an object to hover about.”

Just then they were approached by a young haymaker, to whom the white domino called out, “You look as gay and as brisk as if fresh from the hay-field after only half a day’s work. Pray, how is it you pretty lasses find employment for the winter?”

“How?” cried she, pertly, “why, the same as for the summer!” And pleased with her own readiness at repartee, without feeling the ignorance it betrayed, she tript lightly on.

Immediately after the schoolmaster mentioned by the white domino advanced to Cecilia. His dress was merely a long wrapping gown of green stuff, a pair of red slippers, and a woollen night-cap of the same colour; while, as the symbol of his profession, he held a rod in his hand.

“Ah, fair lady,” he cried, “how soothing were it to the austerity of my life, how softening to the rigidity of my manners, might I—without a breaking out of bounds, which I ought to be the first to discourage, and a “confusion to all order” for which the school-boy should himself chastise his master—be permitted to cast at your feet this emblem of my authority! and to forget, in the softness of your conversation, all the roughness of discipline!”

“No, no,” cried Cecilia, “I will not be answerable for such corruption of taste!”

“This repulse,” answered he, “is just what I feared; for alas! under what pretence could a poor miserable country pedagogue presume to approach you? Should I examine you in the dead languages, would not your living accents charm from me all power of reproof? Could I look at you, and hear a false concord? Should I doom you to water-gruel as a dunce, would not my subsequent remorse make me want it myself as a madman? Were your fair hand spread out to me for correction, should I help applying my lips to it, instead of my rat-tan? If I ordered you to be called up, should I ever remember to have you sent back? And if I commanded you to stand in a corner, how should I forbear following you thither myself?”

Cecilia, who had no difficulty in knowing this pretended schoolmaster for Mr Gosport, was readily beginning to propose conditions for according him her favour, when their ears were assailed by a forced phthisical cough, which they found proceeded from an apparent old woman, who was a young man in disguise, and whose hobbling gait, grunting voice, and most grievous asthmatic complaints, seemed greatly enjoyed and applauded by the company.

“How true is it, yet how inconsistent,” cried the white domino, “that while we all desire to live long, we have all a horror of being old! The figure now passing is not meant to ridicule any particular person, nor to stigmatize any particular absurdity; its sole view is to expose to contempt and derision the general and natural infirmities of age! and the design is not more disgusting than impolitic; for why, while so carefully we guard from all approaches of death, should we close the only avenues to happiness in long life, respect and tenderness?”

Cecilia, delighted both by the understanding and humanity of her new acquaintance, and pleased at being joined by Mr Gosport, was beginning to be perfectly satisfied with her situation, when, creeping softly towards her, she again perceived the black gentleman.

“Ah!” cried she, with some vexation, “here comes my old tormentor! screen me from him if possible, or he will again make me his prisoner.”

“Fear not,” cried the white domino, “he is an evil spirit, and we will surely lay him. If one spell fails, we must try another.”

Cecilia then perceiving Mr Arnott, begged he would also assist in barricading her from the fiend who so obstinately pursued her.

Mr Arnott most gratefully acceded to the proposal; and the white domino, who acted as commanding officer, assigned to each his station: he desired Cecilia would keep quietly to her seat, appointed the schoolmaster to be her guard on the left, took possession himself of the opposite post, and ordered Mr Arnott to stand centinel in front.

This arrangement being settled, the guards of the right and left wings instantly secured their places; but while Mr Arnott was considering whether it were better to face the besieged or the enemy, the arch-foe rushed suddenly before him, and laid himself down at the feet of Cecilia!

Mr Arnott, extremely disconcerted, began a serious expostulation upon the ill-breeding of this behaviour; but the devil, resting all excuse upon supporting his character, only answered by growling.

The white domino seemed to hesitate for a moment in what manner to conduct himself, and with a quickness that marked his chagrin, said to Cecilia, “You told me you knew him,—has he any right to follow you?”

“If he thinks he has,” answered she, a little alarmed by his question, “this is no time to dispute it.”

And then, to avoid any hazard of altercation, she discreetly forbore making further complaints, preferring any persecution to seriously remonstrating with a man of so much insolence as the Baronet.

The schoolmaster, laughing at the whole transaction, only said, “And pray, madam, after playing the devil with all mankind, what right have you to complain that one man plays the devil with you?”

“We shall, at least, fortify you,” said the white domino, “from any other assailant: no three-headed Cerberus could protect you more effectually: but you will not, therefore, fancy yourself in the lower regions, for, if I mistake not, the torment of three guardians is nothing new to you.”

“And how,” said Cecilia, surprised, “should you know of my three guardians? I hope I am not quite encompassed with evil spirits!”

“No,” answered he; “you will find me as inoffensive as the hue of the domino I wear;–and would I could add as insensible!”

“This black gentleman,” said the schoolmaster, “who, and very innocently, I was going to call your black-guard, has as noble and fiend-like a disposition as I remember to have seen; for without even attempting to take any diversion himself, he seems gratified to his heart’s content in excluding from it the lady he serves.”

“He does me an honour I could well dispense with,” said Cecilia; “but I hope he has some secret satisfaction in his situation which pays him for its apparent inconvenience.”

Here the black gentleman half-raised himself, and attempted to take her hand. She started, and with much displeasure drew it back. He then growled, and again sank prostrate.

“This is a fiend,” said the schoolmaster, “who to himself sayeth, Budge not! let his conscience never so often say budge! Well, fair lady, your fortifications, however, may now be deemed impregnable, since I, with a flourish of my rod, can keep off the young by recollection of the past, and since the fiend, with a jut of his foot, may keep off the old from dread of the future!”

Here a Turk, richly habited and resplendent with jewels, stalked towards Cecilia, and, having regarded her some time, called out, “I have been looking hard about me the whole evening, and, faith, I have seen nothing handsome before!”

The moment he opened his mouth, his voice, to her utter astonishment, betrayed Sir Robert Floyer! “Mercy on me,” cried she aloud, and pointing to the fiend, “who, then, can this possibly be?”

“Do you not know?” cried the white domino.

“I thought I had known with certainty,” answered she, “but I now find I was mistaken.”

“He is a happy man,” said the schoolmaster, sarcastically looking at the Turk, “who has removed your suspicions only by appearing in another character!”

“Why, what the deuce, then,” exclaimed the Turk, “have you taken that black dog there for me?”

Before this question could be answered, an offensive smell of soot, making everybody look around the room, the chimney-sweeper already mentioned by Miss Larolles was perceived to enter it. Every way he moved a passage was cleared for him, as the company, with general disgust, retreated wherever he advanced.

He was short, and seemed somewhat incommoded by his dress; he held his soot-bag over one arm, and his shovel under the other. As soon as he espied Cecilia, whose situation was such as to prevent her eluding him, he hooted aloud, and came stumping up to her; “Ah ha,” he cried, “found at last;” then, throwing down his shovel, he opened the mouth of his bag, and pointing waggishly to her head, said, “Come, shall I pop you?—a good place for naughty girls; in, I say, poke in!—cram you up the chimney.”

And then he put forth his sooty hands to reach her cap.

Cecilia, though she instantly knew the dialect of her guardian Mr Briggs, was not therefore the more willing to be so handled, and started back to save herself from his touch; the white domino also came forward, and spread out his arms as a defence to her, while the devil, who was still before her, again began to growl.

“Ah ha!” cried the chimney-sweeper, laughing, “so did not know me? Poor duck! won’t hurt you; don’t be frightened; nothing but old guardian; all a joke!” And then, patting her cheek with his dirty hand, and nodding at her with much kindness, “Pretty dove,” he added, “be of good heart! shan’t be meddled with; come to see after you. Heard of your tricks; thought I’d catch you!—come o’ purpose.—Poor duck! did not know me! ha! ha!—good joke enough!”

“What do you mean, you dirty dog,” cried the Turk, “by touching that lady?”