Cecilia, abashed and changing colour, was silent, and he proceeded.

"All that has past between us, the vows I have offered you of faith,
constancy and affection, the consent I obtained from you to be legally
mine, the bond of settlement I have had drawn up, and the high honour
you conferred upon me in suffering me to lead you to the altar,--all
these particulars are already known to so many, that the least
reflection must convince you they will soon be concealed from none:
tell me, then, if your own fame pleads not for me, and if the scruples
which lead you to refuse, by taking another direction, will not, with
much more propriety, urge, nay enjoin you to accept me!--You hesitate
at least,--O Miss Beverley!--I see in that hesitation--"

"Nothing, nothing!" cried she, hastily, and checking her rising
irresolution; "there is nothing for you to see, but that every way I
now turn I have rendered myself miserable!"

"Mortimer," said Mrs Delvile, seized with terror as she penetrated into
the mental yielding of Cecilia, "you have now spoken to Miss Beverley;
and unwilling as I am to obtrude upon her our difference of sentiment,
it is necessary, since she has heard you, that I, also, should claim
her attention."

"First let her speak!" cried Delvile, who in her apparent wavering
built new hopes, "first let her answer what she has already deigned to
listen to."

"No, first let her hear!" cried Mrs Delvile, "for so only can she judge
what answer will reflect upon her most honour."