As soon, therefore, as she recovered from her consternation, she quitted Mrs Delvile's apartment, and seeking Lady Honoria herself, determined not to spend even a moment alone, till Mortimer was gone; lest the sadness of her reflections should overpower her resolution, and give a melancholy to her air and manner which he might attribute, with but too much justice, to concern upon his own account.
CHAPTER ix. — AN ATTACK.
At dinner, with the assistance of Lord Ernolf, who was most happy to give it, Cecilia seemed tolerably easy. Lord Derford, too, encouraged by his father, endeavoured to engage some share of her attention; but he totally failed; her mind was superior to little arts of coquetry, and her pride had too much dignity to evaporate in pique; she determined, therefore, at this time, as at all others, to be consistent in shewing him he had no chance of her favour.
At tea, when they were again assembled, Mortimer's journey was the only subject of discourse, and it was agreed that he should set out very early in the morning, and, as the weather was extremely hot, not travel at all in the middle of the day.
Lady Honoria then, in a whisper to Cecilia, said, “I suppose, Miss Beverley, you will rise with the lark to-morrow morning? for your health, I mean. Early rising, you know, is vastly good for you.”
Cecilia, affecting not to understand her, said she should rise, she supposed, at her usual time.
“I'll tell Mortimer, however,” returned her ladyship, “to look up at your window before he goes off; for if he will play Romeo, you, I dare say, will play Juliet, and this old castle is quite the thing for the musty family of the Capulets; I dare say Shakespeare thought of it when he wrote of them.”
“Say to him what you please for yourself,” cried Cecilia, “but let me entreat you to say nothing for me.”