Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress — Volume 1Burney, Fanny
General
Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress — Volume 1
Burney, Fanny
England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Love stories; Young women -- Fiction
“Yes, because the more rapacious. And while they count on each side
Dukes, Earls and Barons in their genealogy, the very wealth with which,
through your means, they project the support of their insolence, and
which they will grasp with all the greediness of avarice, they will
think honoured by being employed in their service, while the instrument,
all amiable as she is, by which they attain it, will be constantly held
down as the disgrace of their alliance.”
Cecilia, stung to the soul by this speech, rose from her chair,
unwilling to answer it, yet unable to conceal how much it shocked her.
Mr Monckton, perceiving her emotion, followed her, and taking her hand,
said, “I would not give this warning to one I thought too weak to profit
from it; but as I am well informed of the use that is meant to be made
of your fortune, and the abuse that will follow of yourself, I think it
right to prepare you for their artifices, which merely to point out, may
render abortive.”
Cecilia, too much disturbed to thank him, drew back her hand, and
continued silent. Mr Monckton, reading through her displeasure the state
of her affections, saw with terror the greatness of the danger which
threatened him. He found, however, that the present was no time for
enforcing objections, and perceiving he had already gone too far, though
he was by no means disposed to recant, he thought it most prudent to
retreat, and let her meditate upon his exhortation while its impression
was yet strong in her mind.
He would now, therefore, have taken leave; but Cecilia, endeavouring to
recollect herself, and fully persuaded that however he had shocked her,
he had only her interest in view, stopt him, saying, “You think
me, perhaps, ungrateful, but believe me I am not; I must, however,
acknowledge that your censure of Mrs Delvile hurts me extremely. Indeed
I cannot doubt her worthiness, I must still, therefore, plead for her,
and I hope the time may come when you will allow I have not pleaded
unjustly.”
“Justly or unjustly,” answered Mr Monckton, “I am at least sure you can
never plead vainly. I give up, therefore, to your opinion my attack of
Mrs Delvile, and am willing from your commendations to suppose her the
best of the race. Nay, I will even own that perhaps Mr Delvile himself,
as well as his lady, might pass through life and give but little
offence, had they only themselves to think of, and no son to stimulate
their arrogance.”
“Is the son, then,” said Cecilia faintly, “so much the most culpable?”
“The son, I believe,” answered he, “is at least the chief incentive to
insolence and ostentation in the parents, since it is for his sake they
covet with such avidity honours and riches, since they plume themselves
upon regarding him as the support of their name and, family, and since
their pride in him even surpasses their pride in their lineage and
themselves.”
“Ah!” thought Cecilia, “and of such a son who could help being proud!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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