September 15.—
Said I not that my
fate was near its crisis? Where will this
impending ruin end! Take, my Cecilia,
the occurrences of this frightful day.
Mr. Arnold rode out this morning,
and told me he should not return till night.
He asked me, with that indifference
which now accompanies all his words,
How I meant to dispose of myself for the
day? I told him, I had no design of going
abroad, and should spend my time in
reading, or at my needle. This was my
real intention; but Mr. Arnold had but
just left the house, when I received a message
from Mrs. Gerrarde to know how I
did, and to tell me she was not well, and
much out of spirits, or she would come
and pass the day with me; but that she
insisted on my dining with her. As I had
told Mr. Arnold I did not mean to go out,
I really had neither intention nor inclination
to do so. But shall I confess my
weakness to you? I suspected that he purposed
spending the day (as he often did)
with Mrs. Gerrarde, and the more so from
the question he had asked me on his going
abroad; he thought I might probably pay
her a visit; and this intrusion was a circumstance
he had a mind to be guarded
against, by knowing beforehand my designs.
I had not been to see Mrs. Gerrarde
since my recovery, and it was natural to
suppose I would return her visit. Possessed
as I was with this opinion, her message
gave me a secret satisfaction, as it
served to convince me Mr. Arnold was not
to be with her, for she generally detained
me late when I went to her house.
From what trivial circumstances will the
afflicted draw consolation, or an additional
weight of grief! So it was; I felt a
sort of pleasure in thinking, that for all
that day at least Mr. Arnold would absent
himself from my rival!—My rival!
mean word, she is not worthy to be called
so—from his mistress let it be. In short, I
resolved to go, especially as she had sent
me word she was not well, and I knew my
husband would be pleased with my complaisance.
I went accordingly to her house a little
before her hour of dining, which is much
later than any body's else in this part of the
world. I found her dressed out, and
seemingly in perfect health. She looked
surprized when she saw me; and I
then supposed that she hoped to have received
a denial from me, and was disappointed
at my coming; though I wondered
that the answer she received to her
message had not prepared her. This
thought rushed into my mind in an instant,
and I was sure she expected Mr.
Arnold. I told her, If I had thought I
should have found her so well, that her
message should not have brought me to
her; for that I had determined not to stir
out that day, till her invitation prevailed
on me to change my mind. Sure, my
dear, said she, there must have been some
mistake in delivering the message to you; it
was for to-morrow I desired the pleasure
of your company to dine with me; for to-day I am absolutely engaged. However,
I am very glad you are come, for I shall
not go out till seven o'clock. I was
vexed and mortified: Either your servant
or mine made a mistake, said I, for I was
told you desired to see me to-day; besides
you sent me word you were not
well. She seemed a little abashed at this:
I
was very ill in the morning, she said; and
though I was engaged to spend the evening
abroad, did intend to have sent an excuse;
but finding myself better, I change my
purpose.
Dinner was immediately served, and I
sat down, but with a reluctance that prevented
me from eating. I would have
taken my leave soon after dinner, but
Mrs. Gerrarde insisted on my staying, and
told me if I refused her, she should think
I had taken something amiss of her. She
called for cards; I suffered myself to be
persuaded, and we fell to piquet.
I played with disgust, and without attention,
every minute wishing to break
away. Coffee was at length brought in;
I begged to be excused from staying, telling
Mrs. Gerrarde, I was sure I prevented
her from going abroad, but she would
take no denial. I was constrained to take
a dish of coffee, and was hastening to get
it down when the parlour door flew open,
and lo! Mr. Faulkland entered the room.
If an object the most horrible to human
nature had appeared before me,
it could not at that instant have shocked
me half so much. I let the cup and
saucer drop from hand: to say I turned
pale, trembled, and was ready to faint,
would be too feeble a description of the
effect this spectre had on me. I was
senseless, I almost died away. Mrs. Gerrarde
pretended to be greatly alarmed;
she ran for drops, and having given me
a few in a glass of water, I made a shift
to rise of my chair, and telling her I
should be glad of a little air, tottered to
the street door. I determined to go home
directly, but the universal tremor I was
now in, disabled me from walking, and
I sat down in the porch to recover myself
a little. Mr. Faulkland's having been a
witness to the agony his presence had
thrown me into, did not a little aggravate
the horror and confusion of my
thoughts. Whatever
his were, he had
no spoke to me, nor was it possible for
me to have remarked his behaviour: I
staid not more than two minutes in the
parlour after he entered. In this situation
you will think my distress would hardly
admit of any addition; but the final blow
was yet to come. Mrs. Gerrarde had
staid a minute in the parlour to speak to
Mr. Faulkland after I went out, but presently
followed me, and was soothing me
with the kindest expressions, when I heard
the trampling of horses, and presently
beheld Mr. Arnold alighting at the door.
I now gave myself up for lost. My mind
suddenly suggested to me that Mrs. Gerrarde
had contrived a plot upon my innocence;
but how she had been able to
bring it about, my thoughts were not then
disengaged enough to conceive. My
mind was all a chaos; I was not able to
answer Mr. Arnold when he spoke to me.
He soon perceived my disorder, and inquired
the cause. Mrs. Gerrarde took
upon her to answer, that I was just preparing
to go home, when I was taken
suddenly ill. I was going abroad, said she,
and as I ordered the chariot much about
this hour, I fancy it is ready, and may as
well carry Mrs. Arnold home; you had
best step into the parlour, my dear (to me)
till it is brought to the door.
I am now able to walk, madam, said
I; there is no occasion to give you that
trouble. Mr. Arnold said, I should not
walk by any means; and Mrs. Gerrarde
immediately calling a servant to order
the chariot to the door, said, as she was
going out, she would leave me at home
herself. Mr. Arnold answered, it would
be the best way, and that he should follow
soon. The chariot was presently at the
door. and I was preparing to get into it,
when Mrs. Gerrarde cry'd, Bless me I
had forgot, it will not be so civil to leave
the gentleman behind, without saying any
thing to him. Mr. Arnold hastily asked,
What gentleman? Mrs. Gerrarde replied,
Mr. Faulkland,
who took it into
his head to make me a visit this evening.
She went quickly into the parlour, and
strait returned with Mr. Faulkland; who
bowing carelessly to Mr. Arnold, and
civilly to me, walked away.
Mrs. Gerrarde stepped into the chariot
to me, and ordered it to drive to my
house, leaving Mr. Arnold standing
motionless at her door.
A total silence prevailed on my side
during our short journey home, except to
answer in monosyllables Mrs. Gerrarde's
repeated inquiries after my health. She
set me down at my own door, and took
her leave without alighting. When I
found myself alone, I began to consider
the consequences of this evening's fatal
interview; an interview, which, though
unthought of by me, I judged was contrived
to ensnare me. I laid all the circumstances
together, and endeavoured to
unravel the clue. "Tis plain to me Mr.
Arnold was expected by Mrs. Gerrarde
this evening. She sent for me on purpose
to betray me; the message, which she
pretended was delivered wrong, was only
an artifice, in order to impose on Mr.
Arnold, that he might imagine she did
not expect me. Indeed, he could not
possibly think she should send for me on
the very evening he was to be with her;
and she had so well guarded her contrivance,
that it was not easily to be detected.
She had sent her message by word of
mouth, though she generally wrote them
down on paper, but this way would not
have been liable to misconstruction; she
had told me she was engaged in the evening,
yet detained me longer than I meant
to stay. From the first of these circumstances,
it must appear to Mr. Arnold, that
as I had come unwished for, she wanted
to get rid of me; the latter obviously
served her own purpose; for it is as clear
as daylight that she laid her plan so as
that Mr. Arnold should find Mr. Faulkland
and me together. All this I have
deduced from a long train of reasoning
on the circumstances. But the inexplicable
part of the mystery is, how she contrived
to get Mr. Faulkland, with whom
I did not think she was acquainted, to
visit her at so fatally critical a juncture.
Sure some evil spirit must have assisted
her in this wicket scheme: she knew, no
doubt, of the promise Mr. Arnold had
exacted of me, never to see him. The
apparent breach of this promise, she may
have art enough to persuade Mr. Arnold
was concerted on my side. But I hope I
shall be able to clear myself of this cruel
imputation to my husband. Truth
must
force its way into his mind, if he is not
resolved on my destruction. Perhaps Mr.
Faulkland may be secretly Mrs. Gerrarde's
admirer, and Mr. Arnold is the dupe to
her perfidy, as I am the sacrifice to her
malice and licentiousness.—'Tis all a
strange riddle, but I cannot remain long
in this dismal state of suspence; Mr. Arnold,
perhaps, may discover her treachery,
while she is endeavouring to destroy me
in his good opinion.
I am waiting here like a poor criminal,
in expectation of appearing before my
judge. I wish Mr. Arnold were come
in, yet I dread to see him.
I might have spared myself the anxiety.
Mr. Arnold is just returned, but
he has locked himself into another chamber.
I will not molest him to-night! to-morrow, perhaps, he may be in better
temper, and I may be able to justify myself
to him, and dispel this frightful
gloom that hangs over us.
