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
“I rather think,” said Cecilia, “the best would be to return the
compliment in kind, and when he next recollects you, appear to have
forgotten him.”
“O Lord, that's a very good notion! so I will, I declare. But you can't
conceive how glad I am the Concert's over; for I assure you, though I
sat as near the fire as possible, I was so extreme cold you've no idea,
for Mr Meadows never would let me have the least peep at it. I declare
I believe he does it on purpose to plague one, for he grows worse and
worse every day. You can't think how I hate him!”
“Not easily, I believe indeed!” said Cecilia, archly.
“O do but look!” resumed the fair VOLUBLE, “if there is not Mrs Mears
in her old red gown again! I begin to think she'll never have another.
I wish she was to have an execution in her house, if it was only to get
rid of it! I am so fatigued with the sight of it you can't conceive.”
Mr Morrice now brought intelligence that he had secured one side of a
table which would very well accommodate the ladies; and that the other
side was only occupied by one gentleman, who, as he was not drinking tea
himself, would doubtless give up his place when the party appeared.
Miss Larolles then ran back to her own set, and the rest followed Mr
Morrice; Mrs Harrell, Mrs Mears and Cecilia took their places. The
gentleman opposite to them proved to be Mr Meadows: Morrice, therefore,
was much deceived in his expectations, for, far from giving up his
place, he had flung himself all along upon the form in such a lounging
posture, while he rested one arm upon the table, that, not contented
with merely keeping his own seat, he filled up a space meant for three.
Mr Harrel had already walked off to another party: Delvile stood aloof
for some minutes, expecting Sir Robert Floyer would station himself
behind Cecilia; but Sir Robert, who would scarce have thought such a
condescension due to a princess, disdained any appearance of assiduity,
even while he made it his care to publish his pretensions: and
therefore, finding no accommodation to please him, he stalked towards
some gentlemen in another part of the room. Delvile then took the post
he had neglected, and Mr Arnott, who had not had courage to make any
effort in his own favour, modestly stood near him. Cecilia contrived to
make room for Mr Gosport next to herself, and Morrice was sufficiently
happy in being allowed to call the waiters, superintend, the provisions,
and serve the whole party.
The task of making tea fell upon Cecilia, who being somewhat incommoded
by the vicinity of her neighbours, Mrs Mears called out to Mr Meadows
“Do pray, Sir, be so good as to make room for one of us at your side.”
Mr Meadows, who was indolently picking his teeth, and examining them
with a tooth pick case glass, did not, at first, seem to hear her; and
when she repeated her request, he only looked at her, and said “umph?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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