He paused; and the nurses and Mrs Wyers, struck by this call, and moved by the general example, crept to the bed, and dropt on their knees, almost involuntarily. “She departs,” resumed Albany, “the envy of the world! while yet no guilt had seized her soul, and no remorse had marred her peace. She was the hand-maid of charity, and pity dwelt in her bosom! her mouth was never open but to give comfort; her foot-steps were followed by blessings! Oh happy in purity, be thine the song of triumph!--softly shalt thou sink to temporary sleep,--sublimely shalt thou rise to life that wakes for ever!” He then got up, took the children by their little hands, and went away. CHAPTER x. A TERMINATION. Dr Lyster and Delvile met them at the entrance into the house. Extremely alarmed lest Cecilia had received any disturbance, they both hastened up stairs, but Delvile proceeded only to the door. He stopt there and listened; but all was silent; the prayers of Albany had struck an awe into every one; and Dr Lyster soon returned to tell him there was no alteration in his patient. “And he has not disturbed her?” cried Delvile. “No, not at all.” “I think, then,” said he, advancing, though trembling, “I will yet see her once more.” “No, no, Mr Mortimer,” cried the doctor, “why should you give yourself so unnecessary a shock?” “The shock,” answered he, “is over!--tell me, however, is there any chance I may hurt _her_?” “I believe not; I do not think, just now, she will perceive you.” “Well, then,--I may grieve, perhaps, hereafter, that once more--that one glance!”--He stopt, irresolute the doctor would again have dissuaded him, but, after a little hesitation, he assured him he was prepared for the worst, and forced himself into the room. When again, however, he beheld Cecilia,--senseless, speechless, motionless, her features void of all expression, her cheeks without colour, her eyes without meaning,--he shrunk from the sight, he leant upon Dr Lyster, and almost groaned aloud. The doctor would have conducted him out of the apartment; but, recovering from this first agony, he turned again to view her, and casting up his eyes, fervently ejaculated, “Oh merciful powers! Take, or destroy her! let her not linger thus, rather let me lose her for ever!--O far rather would I see her dead, glad in this dreadful condition!” Then, advancing to the bed side, and yet more earnestly looking at her, “I pray not now,” he cried, “for thy life! inhumanly as I have treated thee, I am not yet so hardened as to wish thy misery lengthened no; quick be thy restoration, or short as pure thy passage to eternity!--Oh my Cecilia! lovely, however altered! sweet even in the arms of death and insanity! and dearer to my tortured heart in this calamitous state, than in all thy pride of health and beauty!”--