Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress. Volume 2

“And so will I too,” cried Morrice, following.

Miss Larolles screamed after him to give her first her little dog; but with a schoolboy’s eagerness to be foremost, he galloped on without heeding her.

The uneasiness of Cecilia now encreased every moment; the discovery of Delvile seemed unavoidable, and his impatient and indiscreet watchfulness must have rendered the motives of his disguise but too glaring. All she had left to hope was arriving at the inn before the detection was announced, and at least saving herself the cruel mortification of hearing the raillery which would follow it.

Even this, however, was not allowed her; Miss Larolles, whom she had no means to quit, hardly stirred another step, from her anxiety for her dog, and the earnestness of her curiosity about the stranger. She loitered, stopt now to talk, and now to listen, and was scarce moved a yard from the spot where she had been left, when the Captain and Morrice returned.

“We could not for our lives overtake the fellow,” said Morrice; “he was well mounted, I promise you, and I’ll warrant he knows what he’s about, for he turned off so short at a place where there were two narrow lanes, that we could not make out which way he went.”

Cecilia, relieved and delighted by this unexpected escape, now recovered her composure, and was content to saunter on without repining.

“But though we could not seize his person,” said the Captain, “we have debarrassed ourselves tout à fait from his pursuit; I hope, therefore, Miss Larolles will make a revoke of her apprehensions.”

The answer to this was nothing but a loud scream, with an exclamation, “Lord, where’s my dog?”

“Your dog!” cried Morrice, looking aghast, “good stars! I never thought of him!”

“How excessive barbarous!” cried Miss Larolles, “you’ve killed him, I dare say. Only think how shocking! I had rather have seen any body served so in the world. I shall never forgive it, I assure you.”

“Lord, ma’am,” said Morrice, “how can you suppose I’ve killed him? Poor, pretty creature, I’m sure I liked him prodigiously. I can’t think for my life where he can be; but I have a notion he must have dropt down some where while I happened to be on the full gallop. I’ll go look [for] him, however, for we went at such a rate that I never missed him.”

Away again rode Morrice.

“I am abimé to the greatest degree,” said the Captain, “that the poor little sweet fellow should be lost if I had thought him in any danger, I would have made it a principle to have had a regard to his person myself. Will you give me leave, ma’am, to have the honour of seeking him partout?”

“O, I wish you would with all my heart; for I assure you if I don’t find him, I shall think it so excessive distressing you can’t conceive.”

The Captain touched his hat, and was gone.

These repeated impediments almost robbed Cecilia of all patience; yet her total inability of resistance obliged her to submit, and compelled her to go, stop, or turn, according to their own motions.

“Now if Mr Meadows had the least good-nature in the world,” said Miss Larolles, “he would offer to help us; but he’s so excessive odd, that I believe if we were all of us to fall down and break our necks, he would be so absent he would hardly take the trouble to ask us how we did.”

“Why in so desperate a case,” said Mr Gosport, “the trouble would be rather superfluous. However, don’t repine that one of the cavaliers stays with us by way of guard, lest your friend the spy should take us by surprize while our troop is dispersed.”

“O Lord,” cried Miss Larolles, “now you put it in my head, I dare say that wretch has got my dog! only think how horrid!”

“I saw plainly,” said Mr Gosport, looking significantly at Cecilia, “that he was feloniously inclined, though I must confess I took him not for a dog-stealer.”

Miss Larolles then, running up to Mr Meadows, called out, “I have a prodigious immense favour to ask of you, Mr Meadows.”

“Ma’am!” cried Mr Meadows, with his usual start.

“It’s only to know, whether if that horrid creature should come back, you could not just ride up to him and shoot him, before he gets to us? Now will you promise me to do it?”

“You are vastly good,” said he, with a vacant smile; “what a charming evening! Do you love the country?”

“Yes, vastly; only I’m so monstrously tired, I can hardly stir a step. Do you like it?”

“The country? O no! I detest it! Dusty hedges, and chirping sparrows! ‘Tis amazing to me any body can exist upon such terms.”

“I assure you,” cried Miss Larolles, “I’m quite of your opinion. I hate the country so you’ve no notion. I wish with all my heart it was all under ground. I declare, when I first go into it for the summer, I cry so you can’t think. I like nothing but London.—Don’t you?”

“London!” repeated Mr Meadows, “O melancholy! the sink of all vice and depravity. Streets without light! Houses without air! Neighbourhood without society! Talkers without listeners!—‘Tis astonishing any rational being can endure to be so miserably immured.”

“Lord, Mr Meadows,” cried she, angrily, “I believe you would have one live no where!”

“True, very true, ma’am,” said he, yawning, “one really lives no where; one does but vegetate, and wish it all at an end. Don’t you find it so, ma’am?”

“Me? no indeed; I assure you I like living of all things. Whenever I’m ill, I’m in such a fright you’ve no idea. I always think I’m going to die, and it puts me so out of spirits you can’t think. Does not it you, too?”

Here Mr Meadows, looking another way, began to whistle.

“Lord,” cried Miss Larolles, “how excessive distressing! to ask one questions, and then never hear what one answers!”

Here the Captain returned alone; and Miss Larolles, flying to meet him, demanded where was her dog?

“I have the malbeur to assure you,” answered he, “that I never was more aneanti in my life! the pretty little fellow has broke another leg!”

Miss Larolles, in a passion of grief, then declared she was certain that Morrice had maimed him thus on purpose, and desired to know where the vile wretch was?

“He was so much discomposed at the incident,” replied the Captain, “that he rode instantly another way. I took up the pretty fellow therefore myself, and have done mon possible not to derange him.”

The unfortunate little animal was then delivered to Miss Larolles; and after much lamentation, they at length continued their walk; and, without further adventure, arrived at the inn.

BOOK VIII

CHAPTER i

AN INTERRUPTION

But here, instead of finding, as she expected, Mrs Charlton, and fresh horses in readiness, Cecilia saw neither chaise nor preparation; Mrs Charlton was quietly seated in a parlour, and drinking tea with Mrs Mears.

Vexed and disappointed, she ordered horses immediately to the chaise, and entreated Mrs Charlton to lose no more time. But the various delays which had already retarded them, had made it now so late that it was impossible to get into London by daylight, and Mrs Charlton not having courage to be upon the road after dark, had settled to sleep at the inn, and purposed not to proceed till the next morning.

Half distracted at this new difficulty, Cecilia begged to speak with her alone, and then represented in the most earnest manner, the absolute necessity there was for her being in London that night; “Every thing,” said she, “depends upon it, and the whole purpose of my journey will otherwise be lost, for Mr Delvile will else think himself extremely ill used, and to make him reparation, I may be compelled to submit to almost whatever terms he shall propose.”

Mrs Charlton, kind and yielding, withstood not this entreaty, which Cecilia made with infinite pain to herself, from the reluctance she felt to pursuing her own interest and inclination in opposition to those of her worthy old friend; but as she was now circumstanced, she considered the immediate prosecution of her journey as her only resource against first irritating Delvile by an abrupt disappointment, and appeasing him next by a concession which would make that disappointment end in nothing.

The chaise was soon ready, and Mrs Charlton and Cecilia were rising to take leave of the company, when a man and horse galloped full speed into the inn-yard, and in less than a minute, Morrice bounced into the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” cried he, quite out of breath with haste, “I have got some news for you! I’ve just found out who that person is that has been watching us.”

Cecilia, starting at this most unwelcome intelligence, would now have run into the chaise without hearing him proceed; but Mrs Charlton, who knew neither whom nor what he meant, involuntarily stopt, and Cecilia, whose arm she leant upon, was compelled to stay.

Every one else eagerly desired to know who he was.

“Why I’ll tell you,” said he, “how I found him out. I was thinking in my own mind what I could possibly do to make amends for that unlucky accident about the dog, and just then I spied the very man that had made me drop him; so I thought at least I’d find out who he was. I rode up to him so quick that he could not get away from me, though I saw plainly it was the thing he meant. But still he kept himself muffled up, just as he did before. Not so snug, thought I, my friend, I shall have you yet! It’s a fine evening, Sir, says I; but he took no notice; so then I came more to the point; Sir, says I, I think, I have had the pleasure of seeing you, though I quite forget where. Still he made no answer; if you have no objection, Sir, says I, I shall be glad to ride with you, for the night’s coming on, and we have neither of us a servant. But then, without a word speaking, he rode on the quicker. However, I jogged by his side, as fast as he, and said, Pray Sir, did you know anything of that company you were looking at so hard just now? And at this he could hold out no longer; he turned to me in a most fierce passion, and said Pray, Sir, don’t be troublesome. And then he got off; for when I found by his voice who he was, I let him alone.”