"Let us now, then, madam," said Cecilia, "break up this conference. I
have spoken, I have heard, the decree is past, and therefore,"--

"You are indeed an angel!" cried Mrs Delvile, rising and embracing her;
"and never can I reproach my son with what has passed, when I consider
for what an object the sacrifice was planned. _You_ cannot be unhappy,
you have purchased peace by the exercise of virtue, and the close of
every day will bring to you a reward, in the sweets of a self-approving
mind.--But we will part, since you think it right; I do wrong to
occasion any delay."

"No, we will _not_ part!" cried Delvile, with encreasing vehemence; "if
you force me, madam, from her, you will drive me to distraction! What
is there in this world that can offer me a recompense? And what can
pride even to the proudest afford as an equivalent? Her perfections you
acknowledge, her greatness of mind is like your own; she has generously
given me her heart,--Oh sacred and fascinating charge! Shall I, after
such a deposite, consent to an eternal separation? Repeal, repeal your
sentence, my Cecilia! let us live to ourselves and our consciences, and
leave the vain prejudices of the world to those who can be paid by them
for the loss of all besides!"

"Is this conflict, then," said Mrs Delvile, "to last for-ever? Oh end
it, Mortimer, finish it, and make me happy! she is just, and will
forgive you, she is noble-minded, and will honour you. Fly, then, at
this critical moment, for in flight alone is your safety; and then will
your father see the son of his hopes, and then shall the fond blessings
of your idolizing mother soothe all your affliction, and soften all
your regret!"