Cecilia then, casting her eyes around, saw that he was followed by Sir Robert Floyer. Full of displeasure both at this introduction and at his presence, she turned hastily to Mr Arnott, and entreated him to enquire if the carriage was not yet ready.
Sir Robert, looking at her with all the exultation of new-raised vanity, said, with more softness than he had ever before addressed her, “Have you been frightened?”
“Every body, I believe was frightened,” answered Cecilia, with an air of dignity intended to check his rising expectations.
“There was no sort of cause,” answered he; “the fellow did not know whom he spoke {to}, that was all.”
“Lord, Sir Robert,” cried Miss Larolles, “how could you be so shocking as to draw your sword? you can't conceive how horrid it looked.”
“Why I did not draw my sword,” cried he, “I only had my hand on the hilt.”
“Lord, did not you, indeed! well, every body said you did, and I'm sure I thought I saw five-and-twenty swords all at once. I thought one of you would be killed every moment. It was horrid disagreeable, I assure you.”
Sir Robert was now called away by some gentlemen; and Mr Monckton, earnest to be better informed of Cecilia's real sentiments, said, with affected concern, “At present this matter is merely ridiculous; I am sorry to think in how short a time it may become more important.”
“Surely,” cried Cecilia with quickness, “some of their friends will interfere! surely upon so trifling a subject they will not be so mad, so inexcusable, as to proceed to more serious resentment!”
“Whichever of them,” said the stranger, “is most honoured by this anxiety, will be mad indeed to risk a life so valued!”