“No, no!—go,—leave me,—” cried he, almost breathless with emotion, “I must not now be trifled with.”
“I do not trifle! indeed I do not!” cried Cecilia, holding by his arm: “try, put me to the proof!”
“Swear, solemnly swear, to empty my house of these creditors this moment!”
“I do swear,” cried she, with energy, “and Heaven prosper me as I am sincere!”
“I see, I see you are an angel!” cried he, rapturously, “and as such I worship and adore you! O you have restored me to life, and rescued me from perdition!”
“Give me, then, that fatal instrument!”
“That instrument,” returned he, “is nothing, since so many others are in my power; but you have now taken from me all desire of using them. Go, then, and stop those wretches from coming to me,—send immediately for the Jew!—he will advance what money you please,—my man knows where to find him; consult with Mr Arnott,—speak a word of comfort to Priscilla,—but do nothing, nothing at all, till you have cleared my house of those cursed scoundrels!”
Cecilia, whose heart sunk within her at the solemn promise she had given, the mention of the Jew, and the arduous task she had undertaken, quitted him without reply, and was going to her own room, to compose her hurried spirits, and consider what steps she had to take, when hearing the noise in the hall grow louder, she stopt to listen, and catching some words that greatly alarmed her, went half way down stairs, when she was met by Davison, Mr Harrel's man, of whom she enquired into the occasion of the disturbance.
He answered that he must go immediately to his master, for the bailiffs were coming into the house.
“Let him not know it if you value his life!” cried she, with new terror. “Where is Mr Arnott? call him to me,—beg him to come this moment;—I will wait for him here.”