"But what," cried she, "was the constancy which brought you into Suffolk?--When all occasion was over for our meeting any more, when you told me you were going abroad, and took leave of me for ever,-- where, then, was your steadiness in this unnecessary journey?"
"Have a care," cried he, half smiling, and taking a letter from his pocket, "have a care, upon this point, how you provoke me to spew my justification!"
"Ah!" cried Cecilia, blushing, "'tis some trick of Lady Honoria!"
"No, upon my honour. The authority is less doubtful: I believe I should hardly else have regarded it."
Cecilia, much alarmed, held out her hand for the letter; and looking first at the end was much astonished to see the name of Biddulph. She then cast her eye over the beginning, and when she saw her own name, read the following paragraph.
"Miss Beverley, as you doubtless know, is returned into Suffolk; every body here saw her with the utmost surprize; from the moment I had heard of her residence in Delvile Castle, I had given her up for lost: but, upon her unexpected appearance among us again, I was weak enough once more to make trial of her heart. I soon found, however, that the pain of a second rejection you might have spared me, and that though she had quitted Delvile Castle, she had not for nothing entered it: at the sound of your name, she blushes; at the mention of your illness, she turns pale; and the dog you have given her, which I recollected immediately, is her darling companion. Oh happy Delvile! yet so lovely a conquest you abandon.--"
Cecilia could read no more; the letter dropt from her hand: to find herself thus by her own emotions betrayed, made her instantly conclude she was universally discovered: and turning sick at the supposition, all her spirit forsook her, and she burst into tears.
"Good heaven," cried Delvile, extremely shocked, "what has thus affected you? Can the jealous surmises of an apprehensive rival--"
"Do not talk to me," interrupted she, impatiently, "and do not detain me,--I am extremely disturbed,--I wish to be alone,--I beg, I even entreat you would leave me."
"I will go, I will obey you in every thing!" cried he, eagerly, "tell me but when I may return, and when you will suffer me to explain to you all the motives of my proposal?"
"Never, never!" cried she, with earnestness, "I am sufficiently lowered already, but never will I intrude myself into a family that disdains me!"
"Disdains? No, you are revered in it! who could disdain you! That fatal clause alone--"