“Do not hope,” interrupted he, “be not so angelic, for I cannot bear it! benevolence like yours should have fallen into worthier hands. But come, let us return to the company. My head grows giddy, but my heart is still heavy; I must make them more fit companions for each other.” He would then have hurried them back; but Cecilia, endeavouring to stop him, said “You do not mean, I hope, to call for more wine?” “Why not?” cried he, with affected spirit, “what, shall we not be merry before we part? Yes, we will all be merry, for if we are not, how shall we part at all?--Oh not without a struggle!--” Then, stopping, he paused a moment, and casting off the mask of levity, said in accents the most solemn “I commit this packet to you,” giving a sealed parcel to Cecilia; “had I written it later, its contents had been kinder to my wife, for now the hour of separation approaches, ill will and resentment subside. Poor Priscilla!--I am sorry--but you will succour her, I am sure you will,--Oh had I known you myself before this infatuation--bright pattern of all goodness!--but I was devoted,--a ruined wretch before ever you entered my house; unworthy to be saved, unworthy that virtues such as yours should dwell under the same roof with me! But come,--come now, or my resolution will waver, and I shall not go at last.” “But what is this packet?” cried Cecilia, “and why do you give it to me?” “No matter, no matter, you will know by and by;--the chaise waits, and I must gather courage to be gone.” He then pressed forward, answering neither to remonstrance nor intreaty from his frightened companions. The moment they returned to the covered walk, they were met by Mr Marriot; Mr Harrel, starting, endeavoured to pass him; but when he approached, and said “you have sent, Sir, no answer to my letter!” he stopt, and in a tone of forced politeness, said, “No, Sir, but I shall answer it to-morrow, and to-night I hope you will do me the honour of supping with me.” Mr Marriot, looking openly at Cecilia as his inducement, though evidently regarding himself as an injured man, hesitated a moment, yet accepted the invitation. “To supper?” cried Mrs Harrel, “what here?” “To supper?” repeated Cecilia, “and how are we to get home?” “Think not of that these two hours,” answered he; “come, let us look for a box.” Cecilia then grew quite urgent with him to give up a scheme which must keep them so late, and Mrs Harrel repeatedly exclaimed “Indeed people will think it very odd to see us here without any party;” but he heeded them not, and perceiving at some distance Mr Morrice, he called out to him to find them a box; for the evening was very pleasant, and the gardens were so much crowded that no accommodation was unseized. “Sir,” cried Morrice, with his usual readiness, “I'll get you one if I turn out ten old Aldermen sucking custards.”