CHAPTER iv. — A WRANGLING.
Mr Monckton, the next day, as soon as breakfast was over, went out, to avoid showing, even to Cecilia, the anxiety he felt concerning the regulation of her fortune, and arrangement of her affairs. He strongly, however, advised her not to mention her large debt, which, though contracted in the innocence of the purest benevolence, would incur nothing but reproof and disapprobation, from all who only heard of it, when they heard of its inutility.
At eleven o'clock, though an hour before the time appointed, while Cecilia was sitting in Lady Margaret's dressing room, “with sad civility and an aching head,” she was summoned to Mr Briggs in the parlour.
He immediately began reproaching her with having eloped from him, in the summer, and with the various expences she had caused him from useless purchases and spoilt provisions. He then complained of Mr Delvile, whom he charged with defrauding him of his dues; but observing in the midst of his railing her dejection of countenance, he suddenly broke off, and looking at her with some concern, said, “what's the matter, Ducky? a'n't well? look as if you could not help it.”
“O yes,” cried Cecilia, “I thank you, Sir, I am very well.”
“What do you look so blank for, then?” said he, “bay? what are fretting for?—crossed in love?—lost your sweetheart?”
“No, no, no,” cried she, with quickness.
“Never mind, my chick, never mind,” said he, pinching her cheek, with resumed good humour, “more to be had; if one won't snap, another will; put me in a passion by going off from me with that old grandee, or would have got one long ago. Hate that old Don; used me very ill; wish I could trounce him. Thinks more of a fusty old parchment than the price of stocks. Fit for nothing but to be stuck upon an old monument for a Death's head.”