Delvile, unconscious of her insanity, and attributing to resentment this aversion and repulse, hastily moved from her, mournfully answering, “Well indeed may you disclaim me, refuse all forgiveness, load me with hatred and reproach, and consign me to eternal anguish! I have merited severer punishment still; I have behaved like a monster, and I am abhorrent to myself!” Cecilia now, half rising, and regarding him with mingled terror and anger, eagerly exclaimed, “If you do not mean to mangle and destroy me, begone this instant.” “To mangle you!” repeated Delvile, shuddering, “how horrible!--but I deserve it!--look not, however, so terrified, and I will tear myself away from you. Suffer me but to assist in removing you from this place, and I will only watch you at a distance, and never see you more till you permit me to approach you.” “Why, why,” cried Cecilia, with a look of perplexity and impatience, “will you not tell me your name, and where you come from?” “Do you not know me?” said he, struck with new horror; “or do you only mean to kill me by the question?” “Do you bring me any message from Mr Monckton?” “From Mr Monckton?--no; but he lives and will recover.” “I thought you had been Mr Monckton yourself.” “Too cruel, yet justly cruel Cecilia!--is then Delvile utterly renounced?--the guilty, the unhappy Delvile!--is he cast off for ever? have you driven him wholly from your heart? do you deny him even a place in your remembrance?” “Is your name, then, Delvile?” “O what is it you mean? Is it me or my name you thus disown?” “'Tis a name,” cried she, sitting up, “I well remember to have heard, and once I loved it, and three times I called upon it in the dead of night. And when I was cold and wretched, I cherished it; and when I was abandoned and left alone, I repeated it and sung to it.” “All-gracious powers!” cried Delvile, “her reason is utterly gone!” And, hastily rising, he desperately added, “what is death to this blow?--Cecilia, I am content to part with thee!” Mary now, and Mrs Wyers, poured upon him eagerly an account of her illness, and insanity, her desire of removal, and their inability to control her. Delvile, however, made no answer; he scarce heard them: the deepest despair took possession of his mind, and, rooted to the spot where he stood, he contemplated iii dreadful stillness the fallen and altered object of his best hopes and affections; already in her faded cheeks and weakened frame, his agonising terror read the quick impending destruction of all his earthly happiness! the sight was too much for his fortitude, and almost for his understanding; and when his woe became utterable, he wrung his hands, and groaning aloud, called out, “Art thou gone so soon! my wife! my Cecilia! have I lost thee already?” Cecilia, with utter insensibility to what was passing, now suddenly, and with a rapid yet continued motion, turned her head from side to side, her eyes wildly glaring, and yet apparently regarding nothing.