Delvile, struck by this evident dismay, instantly concluded his plan
had disgusted her. He waited some minutes in anxious expectation of an
answer, but finding her silence continued while her emotion encreased,
the deepest crimson dyed his face, and unable to check his chagrin,
though not daring to confess his disappointment, he suddenly quitted
her, and walked, in much disorder, about the room. But soon recovering
some composure, from the assistance of pride, "Pardon, madam," he said,
"a trial such as no man can be vindicated in making. I have indulged a
romantic whim, which your better judgment disapproves, and I receive
but the mortification my presumption deserved."

"You know not then," said Cecilia, in a faint voice, "my inability to
comply?"

"Your ability or inability, I presume, are elective?"

"Oh no!--my power is lost--my fortune itself is gone!"

"Impossible! utterly impossible!" cried he with vehemence.

"Oh that it were!--your father knows it but too well."

"My father!"

"Did he, then, never hint it to you?"

"Oh distraction!" cried Delvile, "what horrible confirmation is
coming!" and again he walked away, as if wanting courage to hear her.