resentment, but affliction. The situation of Mrs Delvile, however
different, she considered to be as wretched as her own. She read,
therefore, with sadness, but not bitterness, her farewell, and received
not with disdain, but with gratitude, her sympathy. Yet though her
indignation was not irritated, her sufferings were doubled, by a
farewell so kind, yet so despotic, a sympathy so affectionate, yet so
hopeless.

In this first indulgence of grief which she had granted to her
disappointment, she was soon interrupted by a summons down stairs to a
gentleman.

Unfit and unwilling to be seen, she begged that he might leave his
name, and appoint a time for calling again.

Her maid brought for answer, that he believed his name was unknown to
her, and desired to see her now, unless she was employed in some matter
of moment. She then put up her letter, and went into the parlour; and
there, to her infinite amazement, beheld Mr Albany.

"How little, Sir," she cried, "did I expect this pleasure."

"This pleasure," repeated he, "do you call it?--what strange abuse of
words! what causeless trifling with honesty! is language of no purpose
but to wound the ear with untruths? is the gift of speech only granted
us to pervert the use of understanding? I can give you no pleasure, I
have no power to give it any one; you can give none to me-the whole
world could not invest you with the means!"

"Well, Sir," said Cecilia, who had little spirit to defend herself, "I