“You are very good, madam; but I only meant a receipt in part of payment.” “Payment for what? I don't understand you.” “Did his honour never tell you, madam, of our account?” “What account?” “Our bill, madam, for work done to the new Temple at Violet-Bank: it was the last great work my poor husband was able to do, for it was there he met with his misfortune.” “What bill? What misfortune?” cried Cecilia; “what had your husband to do at Violet-Bank?” “He was the carpenter, madam. I thought you might have seen poor Hill the carpenter there.” “No, I never was there myself. Perhaps you mistake me for Mrs Harrel.” “Why, sure, madam, a'n't you his honour's lady?” “No. But tell me, what is this bill?” “'Tis a bill, madam, for very hard work, for work, madam, which I am sure will cost my husband his life; and though I have been after his honour night and day to get it, and sent him letters and petitions with an account of our misfortunes, I have never received so much as a shilling! and now the servants won't even let me wait in the hall to speak to him. Oh, madam! you who seem so good, plead to his honour in our behalf! tell him my poor husband cannot live! tell him my children are starving! and tell him my poor Billy, that used to help to keep us, is dead, and that all the work I can do by myself is not enough to maintain us!” “Good heaven!” cried Cecilia, extremely moved, “is it then your own money for which you sue thus humbly?” “Yes, madam, for my own just and honest money, as his honour knows, and will tell you himself.” “Impossible!” cried Cecilia, “he cannot know it; but I will take care he shall soon be informed of it. How much is the bill?” “Two-and-twenty pounds, madam.” “What, no more?” “Ah, madam, you gentlefolks little think how much that is to poor people! A hard working family, like mine, madam, with the help of 20 pounds will go on for a long while quite in paradise.” “Poor worthy woman!” cried Cecilia, whose eyes were filled with tears of compassion, “if 20 pounds will place you in paradise, and that 20 pounds only your just right, it is hard, indeed, that you should be kept without it; especially when your debtors are too affluent to miss it. Stay here a few moments, and I will bring you the money immediately.” Away she flew, and returned to the breakfast room, but found there only Mr Arnott, who told her that Mr Harrel was in the library, with his sister and some gentlemen. Cecilia briefly related her business, and begged he would inform Mr Harrel she wished to speak to him directly. Mr Arnott shook his head, but obeyed. They returned together, and immediately. “Miss Beverley,” cried Mr Harrel, gaily, “I am glad you are not gone, for we want much to consult with you. Will you come up stairs?”