He stopt, and seemed gasping for breath; Cecilia turned from him to hide her emotion, and he proceeded with a rapidity of speech that shewed his terror of continuing with her any longer, and his struggle with himself to be gone: “The promise you have made in both our names to my mother, I shall hold myself bound to observe. I see, indeed, that her reason or her life would fall the sacrifice of further opposition: of myself, therefore, it is no longer time to think.--I take of you no leave--I cannot! yet I would fain tell you the high reverence--but it is better to say nothing--” “Much better,” cried Cecilia, with a forced and faint smile; “lose not, therefore, an instant, but hasten to this good Dr Lyster.” “I will,” answered he, going to the door; but there, stopping and turning round, “one thing I should yet,” he added, “wish to say,--I have been impetuous, violent, unreasonable,--with shame and with regret I recollect how impetuous, and how unreasonable: I have persecuted, where I ought in silence to have submitted; I have reproached, where I ought in candour to have approved; and in the vehemence with which I have pursued you, I have censured that very dignity of conduct which has been the basis of my admiration, my esteem, my devotion! but never can I forget, and never without fresh wonder remember, the sweetness with which you have borne with me, even when most I offended you. For this impatience, this violence, this inconsistency, I now most sincerely beg your pardon; and if, before I go, you could so far condescend as to pronounce my forgiveness, with a lighter heart, I think, I should quit you.” “Do not talk of forgiveness,” said Cecilia, “you have never offended me; I always knew--always was sure--always imputed--” she stopt, unable to proceed. Deeply penetrated by her apparent distress, he with difficulty restrained himself from falling at her feet; but after a moment's pause and recollection, he said, “I understand the generous indulgence you have shewn me, an indulgence I shall ever revere, and ever grieve to have abused. I ask you not to remember me,--far, far happier do I wish you than such a remembrance could make you; but I will pain the humanity of your disposition no longer. You will tell my mother--but no matter!--Heaven preserve you, my angelic Cecilia!--Miss Beverley, I mean, Heaven guide, protect, and bless you! And should I see you no more, should this be the last sad moment---” He paused, but presently recovering himself, added, “May I hear, at least, of your tranquillity, for that alone can have any chance to quiet or repress the anguish I feel here!” He then abruptly retreated, and ran out of the house. Cecilia for a while remained almost stupified with sorrow; she forgot Mrs Delvile, she forgot Mrs Charlton, she forgot her own design of apologizing to one, or assisting the other: she continued in the posture in which he had left her, quite without motion, and almost without sensibility. CHAPTER vii.