"The ungenerous triumph of little female vanity," said Mrs Delvile, "is
far, I am sure, from your mind, of which the enlargement and liberality
will rather find consolation from lessening than from embittering his
sufferings. Speak to me, then, and tell me honestly, judiciously,
candidly tell me, will it not be wiser and more right, to avoid rather
than seek an object which can only give birth to regret? an interview
which can excite no sensations but of misery and sadness?" Cecilia then
turned pale, she endeavoured to speak, but could not; she wished to
comply,--yet to think she had seen him for the last time, to remember
how abruptly she had parted from him, and to fear she had treated him
unkindly;--these were obstacles which opposed her concurrence, though
both judgment and propriety demanded it.

"Can you, then," said Mrs Delvile, after a pause, "can you wish to see
Mortimer merely to behold his grief? Can you desire he should see you,
only to sharpen his affliction at your loss?"

"O no!" cried Cecilia, to whom this reproof restored speech and
resolution, "I am not so despicable, I am not, I hope, so unworthy!--I
will--be ruled by you wholly; I will commit to you every thing;--yet
_once_, perhaps,--no more!"--

"Ah, my dear Miss Beverley! to meet confessedly for _once_,--what were
that but planting a dagger in the heart of Mortimer? What were it but
infusing poison into your own?

"If you think so, madam," said she, "I had better--I will certainly--"
she sighed, stammered, and stopt.