The worthy Mrs Charlton heard the events of the morning with the utmost
concern, but charged her grand-daughters to assist her young friend in
doing the honours of her house to Mrs Delvile, while she ordered
another apartment to be prepared for Cecilia, to whom she administered
all the consolation her friendly zeal could suggest.

Cecilia, however unhappy, had too just a way of thinking to indulge in
selfish grief, where occasion called her to action for the benefit of
others: scarce a moment, therefore now did she allow to sorrow and
herself, but assiduously bestowed the whole of her time upon her two
sick friends, dividing her attention according to their own desire or
convenience, without consulting or regarding any choice of her own.
Choice, indeed, she had none; she loved Mrs Charlton, she revered Mrs
Delvile; the warmest wish with which her heart glowed, was the recovery
of both, but too deep was her affliction to receive pleasure from
either.

Two days passed thus, during which the constancy of her attendance,
which at another time would have fatigued her, proved the only relief
she was capable of receiving. Mrs Delvile was evidently affected by her
vigilant tenderness, but seemed equally desirous with herself to make
use of the prohibition to speech as an excuse for uninterrupted
silence. She enquired not even after her son, though the eagerness of
her look towards the door whenever it was opened, shewed either a hope,
or an apprehension that he might enter. Cecilia wished to tell her
whither he was gone, but dreaded trusting her voice with his name; and
their silence, after a while, seemed so much by mutual consent, that
she had soon as little courage as she had inclination to break it.