Cecilia, unfitted to attend her old friend, and unequal to the task of explaining to her the cruel scene in which she had just been engaged, then hastened to her own apartment. Her hitherto stifled emotions broke forth in tears and repinings: her fate was finally determined, and its determination was not more unhappy than humiliating; she was openly rejected by the family whose alliance she was known to wish; she was compelled to refuse the man of her choice, though satisfied his affections were her own. A misery so peculiar she found hard to support, and almost bursting with conflicting passions, her heart alternately swelled from offended pride, and sunk from disappointed tenderness. CHAPTER iv. A PERTURBATION. Cecelia was still in this tempestuous state, when a message was brought her that a gentleman was below stairs, who begged to have the honour of seeing her. She concluded he was Delvile, and the thought of meeting him merely to communicate what must so bitterly afflict him, redoubled her distress, and she went down in an agony of perturbation and sorrow. He met her at the door, where, before he could speak, “Mr Delvile,” she cried, in a hurrying manner, “why will you come? Why will you thus insist upon seeing me, in defiance of every obstacle, and in contempt of my prohibition?” “Good heavens,” cried he, amazed, “whence this reproach? Did you not permit me to wait upon you with the result of my enquiries? Had I not your consent--but why do you look thus disturbed?--Your eyes are red,--you have been weeping.--Oh my Cecilia! have I any share in your sorrow?--Those tears, which never flow weakly, tell me, have they--has _one_ of them been shed upon my account?” “And what,” cried she, “has been the result of your enquiries?--Speak quick, for I wish to know,--and in another instant I must be gone.” “How strange,” cried the astonished Delvile, “is this language! how strange are these looks! What new has come to pass? Has any fresh calamity happened? Is there yet some evil which I do not expect?” “Why will you not answer first?” cried she; “when _I_ have spoken, you will perhaps be less willing.” “You terrify, you shock, you amaze me! What dreadful blow awaits me? For what horror are you preparing me?--That which I have just experienced, and which tore you from me even at the foot of the altar, still remains inexplicable, still continues to be involved in darkness and mystery; for the wretch who separated us I have never been able to discover.” “Have you procured, then, no intelligence?” “No, none; though since we parted I have never rested a moment.” “Make, then, no further enquiry, for now all explanation would be useless. That we _were_ parted, we know, though _why_ we cannot tell: but that again we shall ever meet---” She, stopt; her streaming eyes cast upwards, and a deep sigh bursting from her heart.