University of Virginia Library

August 22.—

Surprized I was not, because I came prepared; but I own I was abashed at seeing Mr. Faulkland to-day. Mr. Arnold and I were invited to dine at lord V—'s, and his lordship, and his guest, came in from the fields, where they had been walking, just as we were ready to sit down to table.

There happened to be a good deal more company; Mr. Faulkland was not introduced; so that there was no room for any thing constrained or improper of either side. I presently recovered the little embarrassment, that his first entrance into the room occasioned. I am sure nobody took notice of it; for dinner being immediately served, there was a sort of bustle in hurrying out of the drawing-room. The crowd we had at table destroyed all conversation; and nothing particular was said during dinner. Lady V— soon with drew, and all her female friends followed her. I observed she frequently glanced her penetrating eyes at Mr. Faulkland, while we were at table, but I did not choose to make any observations

on him. We had not been long seated at our coffee, when four of the gentlemen slipped from their company and came to us: these were Mr. Arnold, Mr. Faulkland, and two others. My lord is pretty free at his bottle, and none of these gentlemen I suppose were fond of that entertainment. Lady V— and I were sitting on a couch: I called to Mr. Arnold, and placed him between us: Mr. Faulkland approached me, and then, for the first time, with a respectful distance, inquired after my mother and Sir George, telling me he had missed of the latter when he was in London, being told he was at Sidney Castle. After a few more indifferent questions, he took a dish of coffee, and retired with it to a window. Mr. Arnold asked me in a whisper, if I was acquainted with Mr. Faulkland; I could only answer, that I was formerly very well acquainted with him. Nothing more passed between Mr. Faulkland and me the whole evening: he returned soon to the company in the next room, and I saw no more of him.

I can with the utmost sincerity assure my Cecilia, that I now behold Mr. Faulkland with as much indifference as I do any other man of my acquaintance. Time, joined to my own efforts, must, without any other help, have intirely subdued an inclination which was always restrained by prudential motives, and rendered subservient to my duty; but I have, besides this, now acquired a shield that must render me invulnerable; I mean the perfect and tender affection I bear my husband: this has completely secured me against the most distant apprehensions of being alarmed from any other quarter; yet notwithstanding all this, I can't say that I am quite satisfied at this renewal of my acquaintance with Mr. Faulkland. I hope, and indeed it is reasonable to suppose, that I have now as little interest in his heart as he has in mind: it is but natural to believe that a gay young man, like him, should not be so weak as to nourish a hopeless passion for more than tow years, especially as he has never once seen the object of it in all that time; and must

without doubt, have had his attention engaged to others in all likelihood much preferable to her; so that I think I have reason to be as easy on his account as on my own. But still I am disquieted in my mind; I have a delicacy that takes alarm at the veriest trifles, and has been a source of pain to me my whole life-time: it makes me unhappy to think that I am now under an almost unavoidable necessity of sometimes seeing and conversing with a man, who once had such convincing proofs that he was not indifferent to me.

Mr Arnold's ignorance of our former connections makes it still worse. At the time I was so averse to his knowing any thing of this affair, I flattered myself I should never see Mr. Faulkland more, or at least never be obliged to have any intercourse with him; but I know lament that I did not take my mother's advice, and disclose the whole affair at first. Oh, my Cecilia! when the smallest deviations from candor (which we suppose discretion) are thus punished with remorse, what must

they fell whose whole life is one continued act of dissimulation? If Mr. Arnold had been acquainted with my former engagements, my heart would be more at ease, and I should then converse with this man with all the disengaged freedom of a common friend. I wish Mr. Arnold's curiosity would excite him to ask me some questions relative to my acquaintance with Mr. Faulkland, that I might have an opportunity of telling him the secret. But the inquiry he made at lady V—'s was in a careless manner; he was satisfied with my reply, and spoke not of him since.

You will laugh perhaps when I tell you that I have not courage to mention it first: Mr. Faulkland is reckoned a very fine gentleman, and I think it would have such an air of vanity to tell my husband that I refused him: then it would bring on such a train of explanations, and poor Miss Burchell's history must come out; for a husband on such a subject might be disgusted with concealments of any kind; and I doubt whether even some circumstances in my particular share of this story

might not displease him. In short, I am bewildered, and know not what to wish for; but must e'en let things take their course, and rest satisfied in the integrity of my own heart.