“I shall make it a principle,” said the captain, “to have the honour of obeying you.” And was riding off, when Cecilia, in great agitation, called out “Why should you go, Sir?--he is not in our way,--pray let him alone,--for what purpose should you pursue him?” “I hope,” said Mr Gosport, “for the purpose of making him join our company, to some part of which I fancy he would be no very intolerable addition.” This speech again silenced Cecilia, who perceived, with the utmost confusion, that both Delvile and herself were undoubtedly suspected by Mr Gosport, if not already actually betrayed to him. She was obliged, therefore, to let the matter take its course, though quite sick with apprehension lest a full discovery should follow the projected pursuit. The Captain, who wanted not courage, however deeply in vanity and affectation he had buried common sense, stood suspended, upon the request of Cecilia, that he would not go, and, with a shrug of distress, said, “Give me leave to own I am parfaitment in a state the most accablant in the world; nothing could give me greater pleasure than to profit of the occasion to accommodate either of these ladies; but as they proceed upon different principles, I am indecidé to a degree which way to turn myself!” “Put it to the vote, then,” said Morrice; “the two ladies have both spoke; now, then, for the gentlemen. Come, Sir,” to Mr Gosport, “what say you?” “O, fetch the culprit back, by all means,” answered he; “and then let us all insist upon his opening his cause, by telling us in what he has offended us; for there is no part of his business, I believe, with which we are less acquainted.” “Well,” said Morrice, “I'm for asking him a few questions too; so is the Captain; so every body has spoke but you, Sir,” addressing himself to Mr Meadows, “So now, Sir, let's hear your opinion.” Mr Meadows, appearing wholly inattentive, rode on. “Why, Sir, I say!” cried Morrice, louder, “we are all waiting for your vote. Pray what is the gentleman's name? it's deuced hard to make him hear one.” “His name is Meadows,” said Miss Larolles, in a low voice, “and I assure you sometimes he won't hear people by the hour together. He's so excessive absent you've no notion. One day he made me so mad, that I could not help crying; and Mr Sawyer was standing by the whole time! and I assure you I believe he laughed at me. Only conceive how distressing!” “May be,” said Morrice, “it's out of bashfulness perhaps he thinks we shall cut him up.”