“Doubtless, not,” answered she, with the same pretended ignorance, “the place is not in so desperate a condition as to exhibit any visible marks of decay in the course of three or four months.” “And, do you not know,” cried he, “that the place to which I allude may receive a mischief in as many minutes which double the number of years cannot rectify? The internal parts of a building are not less vulnerable to accident than its outside; and though the evil may more easily be concealed, it will with greater difficulty be remedied. Many a fair structure have I seen, which, like that now before me” (looking with much significance at Cecilia), “has to the eye seemed perfect in all its parts, and unhurt either by time or casualty, while within, some lurking evil, some latent injury, has secretly worked its way into the very heart of the edifice, where it has consumed its strength, and laid waste its powers, till, sinking deeper and deeper, it has sapped its very foundation, before the superstructure has exhibited any token of danger. Is such an accident among the things you hold to be possible?” “Your language,” said she, colouring very high, “is so florid, that I must own it renders your meaning rather obscure.” “Shall I illustrate it by an example? Suppose, during your abode in Delvile Castle?” “No, no,” interrupted she, with involuntary quickness, “why should I trouble you to make illustrations?” “O pray, my dear creature,” cried Miss Larolles, “how is Mrs Harrel? I was never so sorry for any body in my life. I quite forgot to ask after her.” “Ay, poor Harrel!” cried Morrice, “he was a great loss to his friends. I had just begun to have a regard for him; we were growing extremely intimate. Poor fellow! he really gave most excellent dinners.” “Harrel?” suddenly exclaimed Mr Meadows, who seemed just then to first hear what was going forward, “who was he?” “O, as good-natured a fellow as ever I knew in my life,” answered Morrice; “he was never out of humour; he was drinking and singing and dancing to the very last moment. Don't you remember him, Sir, that night at Vauxhall?” Mr Meadows made not any answer, but rode languidly on. Morrice, ever more flippant than sagacious, called out, “I really believe the gentleman's deaf! he won't so much as say umph, and hay, now; but I'll give him such a hallow in his ears, as shall make him hear me, whether he will or no. Sir! I say!” bawling aloud, “have you forgot that night at Vauxhall?” Mr Meadows, starting at being thus shouted at, looked towards Morrice with some surprise, and said, “Were you so obliging, Sir, as to speak to me?” “Lord, yes, Sir,” said Morrice, amazed; “I thought you had asked something about Mr Harrel, so I just made an answer to it;--that's all.” “Sir, you are very good,” returned he, slightly bowing, and then looking another way, as if thoroughly satisfied with what had passed. “But I say, Sir,” resumed Morrice, “don't you remember how Mr Harrel”-- “Mr who, Sir?”