When Mr. De Lancaster and the Wilsons had departed and left our hero alone, his heart, which conversation and the flow of Major Wilson’s spirits had upheld, now sunk within him, for it was not alone Cecilia’s tender fears, Amelia’s sorrows threw a sadness over him. He knew that he would find her with his aunt and Mrs. Jennings in their morning room; but how to draw her from them and unburden his heart to her in private was the question. He walked up to the gallery, with which their room communicated, and in passing the door took care his steps upon the dry-rubbed oaken floor should give a signal, that might reach the ear of his beloved; it being now about the time for them to take their usual walk together. Hark! said Amelia; sure my ear deceives me, or that is Mr. John De Lancaster, whom I hear in the gallery. I believe your ear is very correct, said Cecilia; it is my nephew’s step; but go out, my dear, and see: perhaps he wishes you to walk with him this fine day. Mrs. Jennings and I will finish what we are about, and postpone our walk till by-and-bye. Amelia did not long delay to obey so pleasant an injunction. She sallied from the room as quick as thought--I guessed that it was you, she cried, as she went up to him, and held out her hand. Your aunt, who is all kindness, sent me to you. If you like a walk, I am ready, ’Tis a charming day. Yes, and that voice is charming, he replied; that sweet inviting smile enchants a heart, that fondly doats upon you: but we won’t walk, Amelia; at least not yet; for I have news from Lisbon, from my father, not of a pleasant sort I must confess: and if you will trust yourself with me in this room, which is my study, and where nobody will interrupt us, I wish to discourse with you upon it in private--They immediately entered the room, and, being seated, John began as follows-- Amelia, it is my unhappy lot to have a father, who brings shame upon me, and seems to feel none for himself; in whom, with sorrow I am forced to say, I cannot trace one spark of manly resolution, or the sense of what becomes a gentleman to feel. You, on the contrary, amongst the many excellencies you possess, and I am wanting in, have the advantage also to be born of parents, though now no more, of whom you may be justly proud. Judge therefore, my Amelia, how incumbent it must be on me, whose greatest ambition is to approve myself not quite unworthy of your esteem, to support, as far as I am able, the credit of a name, which I am presumptuous enough to hope you will one day condescend to share. My father calls on me for my assistance; he conjures me to come and extricate him from a disgraceful contract, fraudulent upon the face of it, with those Ap Owens; which if I fail to do, he marries that detested villain’s mother, insults the memory of your newly-buried friend, and blasts a name, that never yet was stained.