With Mrs Harrel this conduct was not injudicious; she was pleased with his assiduity, amused with his vivacity, and sufficiently satisfied with his understanding. They conversed, therefore, upon pretty equal terms, and neither of them were yet tired, when they were interrupted by Mr Harrel, who came into the room, to ask if they had seen or heard any thing of Sir Robert Floyer? “No,” answered Mrs Harrel, “nothing at all.” “I wish he was hanged,” returned he, “for he has kept me waiting this hour. He made me promise not to ride out till he called and now he'll stay till the morning is over.” “Pray where does he live, sir?” cried Morrice, starting from his seat. “In Cavendish Square, sir,” answered Mr Harrel, looking at him with much surprise. Not a word more said Morrice, but scampered out of the room. “Pray who is this Genius?” cried Mr Harrel, “and what has he run away for?” “Upon my word I know nothing at all of him,” said Mrs Harrel; “he is a visitor of Miss Beverley's.” “And I, too,” said Cecilia, “might almost equally disclaim all knowledge of him; for though I once saw, I never was introduced to him.” She then began a relation of her meeting him at Mr Monckton's house, and had hardly concluded it, before again, and quite out of breath, he made his appearance. “Sir Robert Floyer, sir,” said he to Mr Harrel, “will be here in two minutes.” “I hope, sir,” said Mr Harrel, “you have not given yourself the trouble of going to him?” “No, sir, it has given me nothing but pleasure; a run these cold mornings is the thing I like best.” “Sir, you are extremely good,” said Mr Harrel, “but I had not the least intention of your taking such a walk upon my account.” He then begged him to be seated, to rest himself, and to take some refreshment; which civilities he received without scruple. “But, Miss Beverley,” said Mr Harrel, turning suddenly to Cecilia, “you don't tell me what you think of my friend?” “What friend, sir?” “Why, Sir Robert Floyer; I observed he never quitted you a moment while he stayed at Mrs Mears.” “His stay, however, was too short,” said Cecilia, “to allow me to form a fair opinion of him.” “But perhaps,” cried Morrice, “it was long enough to allow you to form a _foul_ one.” Cecilia could not forbear laughing to hear the truth thus accidentally blundered out; but Mr Harrel, looking very little pleased, said, “Surely you can find no fault with him? he is one of the most fashionable men I know.” “My finding fault with him then,” said Cecilia, “will only farther prove what I believe is already pretty evident, that I am yet a novice in the art of admiration.” Mr Arnott, animating at this speech, glided behind her chair, and said, “I knew you could not like him! I knew it from the turn of your mind;--I knew it even from your countenance!” Soon after, Sir Robert Floyer arrived. “You are a pretty fellow, a'n't you,” cried Mr Harrel, “to keep me waiting so long.”