As soon as they lost sight of the house, Cecilia expressed her
surprise at the behaviour of the old gentleman who sat in the
corner, whose general silence, seclusion from the company, and
absence of mind, had strongly excited her curiosity.
Mr Harrel could give her very little satisfaction: he told her that
he had twice or thrice met him in public places, where everybody
remarked the singularity of his manners and appearance, but that he
had never discoursed with anyone to whom he seemed known; and that
he was as much surprised as herself in seeing so strange a character
at the house of Mr Monckton.
The conversation then turned upon the family they had just quitted, and Cecilia warmly declared the good opinion she had of Mr Monckton, the obligations she owed to him for the interest which, from her childhood, he had always taken in her affairs; and her hopes of reaping much instruction from the friendship of a man who had so extensive a knowledge of the world.
Mr Harrel professed himself well satisfied that she should have such
a counsellor; for though but little acquainted with him, he knew he
was a man of fortune and fashion, and well esteemed in the world. They mutually compassionated his unhappy situation in domestic life, and Cecilia innocently expressed her concern at the dislike Lady Margaret seemed to have taken to her; a dislike which Mr Harrel naturally enough imputed to her youth and beauty, yet without suspecting any cause more cogent than a general jealousy of attractions of which she had herself so long outlived the possession.
As their journey drew near to its conclusion, all the uneasy and
disagreeable sensations which in the bosom of Cecilia had
accompanied its commencement, gave way to the expectation of quick
approaching happiness in again meeting her favourite young friend.
Mrs Harrel had in childhood been her playmate, and in youth her
school-fellow; a similarity of disposition with respect to sweetness
of temper, had early rendered them dear to each other, though the
resemblance extended no farther, Mrs Harrel having no pretensions to
the wit or understanding of her friend; but she was amiable and
obliging, and therefore sufficiently deserving affection, though
neither blazing with attractions which laid claim to admiration, nor
endowed with those superior qualities which mingle respect in the
love they inspire.
From the time of her marriage, which was near three years, she had
entirely quitted Suffolk, and had had no intercourse with Cecilia
but by letter. She was now just returned from Violet Bank, the name
given by Mr Harrel to a villa about twelve miles from London, where
with a large party of company she had spent the Christmas holidays.
Their meeting was tender and affectionate; the sensibility of
Cecilia's heart flowed from her eyes, and the gladness of Mrs
Harrel's dimpled her cheeks.
As soon as their mutual salutations, expressions of kindness, and
general inquiries had been made, Mrs Harrel begged to lead her to
the drawing-room, "where," she added, "you will see some of my
friends, who are impatient to be presented to you."
"I could have wished," said Cecilia, "after so long an absence, to
have passed this first evening alone with you."
"They are all people who particularly desired to see you," she
answered, "and I had them by way of entertaining you, as I was
afraid you would be out of spirits at leaving Bury."
Cecilia, finding the kindness of her intentions, forbore any further
expostulation, and quietly followed her to the drawing-room. But as
the door was opened, she was struck with amazement upon finding that
the apartment, which was spacious, lighted with brilliancy, and
decorated with magnificence, was more than half filled with company, every one of which was dressed with gaiety and profusion.
Cecilia, who from the word friends, expected to have seen a small
and private party, selected for the purpose of social converse, started involuntarily at the sight before her, and had hardly courage to proceed.