Mortimer Delvile was tall and finely formed, his features, though not handsome, were full of expression, and a noble openness of manners and address spoke the elegance of his education, and the liberality of his mind. When this introduction was over, a more general conversation took place, till Mr Delvile, suddenly rising, said to Cecilia, “You will pardon me, Miss Beverley, if I leave you for a few minutes; one of my tenants sets out to-morrow morning for my estate in the North, and he has been two hours waiting to speak with me. But if my son is not particularly engaged, I am sure he will be so good as to do the honours of the house till his mother is ready to receive you.” And then, graciously waving his hand, he quitted the room. “My father,” cried young Delvile, “has left me an office which, could I execute it as perfectly as I shall willingly, would be performed without a fault.” “I am very sorry,” said Cecilia, “that I have so much mistaken your hour of breakfast; but let me not be any restraint upon you, I shall find a book, or a newspaper, or something to fill up the time till Mrs Delvile honours me with a summons.” “You can only be a restraint upon me,” answered he, “by commanding me from your presence. I breakfasted long ago, and am now just come from Mr Belfield. I had the pleasure, this morning, of being admitted into his room.” “And how, Sir, did you find him?” “Not so well, I fear, as he thinks himself; but he was in high spirits, and surrounded by his friends, whom he was entertaining with all the gaiety of a man in full health, and entirely at his ease; though I perceived, by the frequent changes of his countenance, signs of pain and indisposition, that made me, however pleased with his conversation, think it necessary to shorten my own visit, and to hint to those who were near me the propriety of leaving him quiet.” “Did you see his surgeon, Sir?” “No; but he told me he should only have one dressing more of his wound, and then get rid of the whole business by running into the country.” “Were you acquainted with him, Sir, before this accident?” “No, not at all; but the little I have seen of him has strongly interested me in his favour: at Mr Harrel's masquerade, where I first met with him, I was extremely entertained by his humour,--though there, perhaps, as I had also the honour of first seeing Miss Beverley, I might be too happy to feel much difficulty in being pleased. And even at the Opera he had the advantage of finding me in the same favourable disposition, as I had long distinguished you before I had taken any notice of him. I must, however, confess I did not think his anger that evening quite without provocation,--but I beg your pardon, I may perhaps be mistaken, and you, who know the whole affair, must undoubtedly be better able to account for what happened.” Here he fixed his eyes upon Cecilia, with a look of curiosity that seemed eager to penetrate into her sentiments of the two antagonists.