“You are too generous, and too good!” said Cecilia, “and I know not how, while flying from danger myself, to forbear counselling you to avoid it also.” “Ah madam!” cried he, “the greatest danger for me is what I have now no power to run from!” Cecilia, though she could not but understand him, felt not the less his friend for knowing him the humblest of her admirers; and as she saw the threatening ruin to which his too great tenderness exposed him, she kindly said “Mr Arnott, I will speak, to you without reserve. It is not difficult to see that the destruction which awaits Mr Harrel, is ready also to ensnare his brother-in-law; but let not that blindness to the future which we have so often lamented for him, hereafter be lamented for yourself. Till his present connections are broken, and his way of living is changed, nothing can be done for him, and whatever you were to advance, would merely be sunk at the gaming table. Reserve, therefore, your liberality till it may indeed be of service to him, for believe me, at present, his mind is as much injured as his fortune.” “And is it possible, madam,” said Mr Arnott, in an accent of surprize and delight, “that you can deign to be interested in what may become of me! and that my sharing or escaping the ruin of this house is not wholly indifferent to you?” “Certainly not,” answered Cecilia; “as the brother of my earliest friend, I can never be insensible to your welfare.” “Ah madam!” cried he, “as her brother!--Oh that there were any other tie!--” “Think a little,” said Cecilia, preparing to quit the room, “of what I have mentioned, and, for your sister's sake, be firm now, if you would be kind hereafter.” “I will be any and every thing,” cried he, “that Miss Beverley will command.” Cecilia, fearful of any misinterpretation, then came back, and gravely said, “No, Sir, be ruled only by your own judgment; or, should my advice have any weight with you, remember it is given from the most disinterested motives, and with no other view than that of securing your power to be of service to your sister.” “For that sister's sake, then, have the goodness to hear my situation, and honour me with further directions.” “You will make me fear to speak,” said Cecilia, “if you give so much consequence to my opinion. I have seen, however, nothing in your conduct I have ever wished changed, except too little attention to your own interest and affairs.” “Ah!” cried he, “with what rapture should I hear those words, could I but imagine--” “Come, come,” said Cecilia, smiling, “no digression! You called me back to talk of your sister; if you change your subject, perhaps you may lose your auditor.”