They could give no account of her, but supposed she was broke loose from Bedlam. Cecilia then, wildly starting up, exclaimed, “No, no,--I am not mad,--I am going to Nice--to my husband.” “She's quite crazy,” said the man of the house, who was a Pawn-Broker; “we had better get rid of her before she grows mischievous--” “She's somebody broke out from a private mad house, I dare say,” said a man who had followed her into the shop; “and if you were to take care of her a little while, ten to one but you'll get a reward for it.” “She's a gentlewoman, sure enough,” said the mistress of the house, “because she's got such good things on.” And then, under pretence of trying to find some direction to her upon a letter, or paper, she insisted upon searching her pockets: here, however, she was disappointed in her expectations: her purse was in the custody of Mr Simkins, but neither her terror nor distress had saved her from the daring dexterity of villainy, and her pockets, in the mob, had been rifled of whatever else they contained. The woman therefore hesitated some time whether to take charge of her or, not: but being urged by the man who made the proposal, and who said they might depend upon seeing her soon advertised, as having escaped from her keepers, they ventured to undertake her. Mean while she endeavoured again to get out, calling aloud upon Delvile to rescue her, but so wholly bereft of sense and recollection, she could give no account who she was, whence she came, or whither she wished to go. They then carried her up stairs, and attempted to make her lie down upon a bed; but supposing she refused because it was not of straw, they desisted; and, taking away the candle, locked the door, and all went to rest. In this miserable condition, alone and raving, she was left to pass the night! in the early part of it, she called upon Delvile without intermission, beseeching him to come to her defence in one moment, and deploring his death the next; but afterwards, her strength being wholly exhausted by these various exertions and fatigues, she threw herself upon the floor, and lay for some minutes quite still. Her head then began to grow cooler, as the fever into which terror and immoderate exercise had thrown her abated, and her memory recovered its functions. This was, however, only a circumstance of horror to her: she found herself shut up in a place of confinement, without light, without knowledge where she was, and not a human being near her! Yet the same returning reason which enabled her to take this view of her own situation, brought also to her mind that in which she had left Delvile;--under all the perturbation of new-kindled jealousy, just calling upon Belfield,--Belfield, tenacious of his honour even more than himself,--to satisfy doubts of which the very mention would be received as a challenge!