The uneasiness of Cecilia now encreased every moment; the discovery of Delvile seemed unavoidable, and his impatient and indiscreet watchfulness must have rendered the motives of his disguise but too glaring. All she had left to hope was arriving at the inn before the detection was announced, and at least saving herself the cruel mortification of hearing the raillery which would follow it. Even this, however, was not allowed her; Miss Larolles, whom she had no means to quit, hardly stirred another step, from her anxiety for her dog, and the earnestness of her curiosity about the stranger. She loitered, stopt now to talk, and now to listen, and was scarce moved a yard from the spot where she had been left, when the Captain and Morrice returned. “We could not for our lives overtake the fellow,” said Morrice; “he was well mounted, I promise you, and I'll warrant he knows what he's about, for he turned off so short at a place where there were two narrow lanes, that we could not make out which way he went.” Cecilia, relieved and delighted by this unexpected escape, now recovered her composure, and was content to saunter on without repining. “But though we could not seize his person,” said the Captain, “we have debarrassed ourselves tout à fait from his pursuit; I hope, therefore, Miss Larolles will make a revoke of her apprehensions.” The answer to this was nothing but a loud scream, with an exclamation, “Lord, where's my dog?” “Your dog!” cried Morrice, looking aghast, “good stars! I never thought of him!” “How excessive barbarous!” cried Miss Larolles, “you've killed him, I dare say. Only think how shocking! I had rather have seen any body served so in the world. I shall never forgive it, I assure you.” “Lord, ma'am,” said Morrice, “how can you suppose I've killed him? Poor, pretty creature, I'm sure I liked him prodigiously. I can't think for my life where he can be; but I have a notion he must have dropt down some where while I happened to be on the full gallop. I'll go look [for] him, however, for we went at such a rate that I never missed him.” Away again rode Morrice. “I am abimé to the greatest degree,” said the Captain, “that the poor little sweet fellow should be lost if I had thought him in any danger, I would have made it a principle to have had a regard to his person myself. Will you give me leave, ma'am, to have the honour of seeking him partout?” “O, I wish you would with all my heart; for I assure you if I don't find him, I shall think it so excessive distressing you can't conceive.” The Captain touched his hat, and was gone. These repeated impediments almost robbed Cecilia of all patience; yet her total inability of resistance obliged her to submit, and compelled her to go, stop, or turn, according to their own motions.