She returned up stairs, and after a short preparation, said, “Your favourite Dr Lyster, madam, is come, and I shall be much the happier for having you under his care.” “Dr Lyster?” cried she, “who sent for him?” “I believe--I fancy--Mr Delvile fetched him.” “My son?--is he here, then?” “No,--he went, the moment he left you, for Dr Lyster,--and Dr Lyster is come by himself.” “Does he write to you?” “No, indeed!--he writes not--he comes not--dearest madam be satisfied, he will do neither to me ever more!” “Exemplary young man!” cried she, in a voice hardly audible, “how great is his loss!--unhappy Mortimer!--ill-fated, and ill-rewarded!” She sighed, and said no more; but this short conversation, the only one which had passed between them since her illness, agitated her so much, that Dr Lyster, who now came up stairs, found her in a state of trembling and weakness that both alarmed and surprised him. Cecilia, glad of an opportunity to be gone, left the room, and sent, by Dr Lyster's desire, for the physician and surgeon who had already attended. After they had been some time with their patient, they retired to a consultation, and when it was over, Dr Lyster waited upon Cecilia in the parlour, and assured her he had no apprehension of danger for Mrs Delvile, “Though, for another week,” he added, “I would have her continue your _patient_, as she is not yet fit to be removed. But pray mind that she is kept quiet; let nobody go near her, not even her own son. By the way he is waiting for me at the inn, so I'll just speak again to his mother, and be gone.” Cecilia was well pleased by this accidental information, to learn both the anxiety of Delvile for his mother, and the steadiness of his forbearance for himself. When Dr Lyster came down stairs again, “I shall stay,” he said, “till to-morrow, but I hope she will be able in another week to get to Bristol. In the mean time I shall leave her, I see, with an excellent nurse. But, my good young lady, in your care of her, don't neglect yourself; I am not quite pleased with your looks, though it is but an old fashioned speech to tell you so.--What have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing;” said she, a little embarrassed; “but had you not better have some tea?” “Why yes, I think I had;--but what shall I do with my young man?” Cecilia understood the hint, but coloured, and made no answer. “He is waiting for me,” he continued, “at the inn; however, I never yet knew the young man I would prefer to a young woman, so if you will give me some tea here, I shall certainly jilt him.” Cecilia instantly rang the bell, and ordered tea. “Well now,” said he, “remember the sin of this breach of appointment lies wholly at your door. I shall tell him you laid violent hands on me; and if that is not, enough to excuse me, I shall desire he will try whether he could be more of a stoic with you himself.”