Mary, alarmed and amazed, turned hastily from her to the woman of the house, who calmly said, the lady was only in a raving fit, and must not be minded.
Extremely frightened at this intelligence, she entreated her to be quiet and lie still. But Cecilia grew suddenly so violent, that force only could keep her from rising; and Mary, unused to dispute her commands, prepared to obey them.
Mrs Wyers now in her turn opposed in vain; Cecilia was peremptory, and Mary became implicit, and, though not without much difficulty, she was again dressed in her riding habit. This operation over, she moved towards the door, the temporary strength of delirium giving, her a hardiness that combated fever, illness, fatigue, and feebleness. Mary, however averse and fearful, assisted her, and Mrs Wyers, compelled by the obedience of her own servant, went before them to order a chair.
Cecilia, however, felt her weakness when she attempted to move down stairs; her feet tottered, and her head became dizzy; she leaned it against Mary, who called aloud for more help, and made her sit down till it came. Her resolution, however, was not to be altered; a stubbornness, wholly foreign to her genuine character, now made her stern and positive; and Mary, who thought her submission indispensable, cried, but did not offer to oppose her.
Mr and Mrs Wyers both came up to assist in supporting her, and Mr Wyers offered to carry her in his arms; but she would not consent; when she came to the bottom of the stairs, her head grew worse, she again lent it upon Mary, but Mr Wyers was obliged to hold them both. She still, however, was firm in her determination, and was making another effort to proceed, when Delvile rushed hastily into the shop.
He had just encountered Albany; who, knowing his acquaintance, though ignorant of his marriage, with Cecilia, had informed him where to seek her.
He was going to make enquiry if he was come to the right house, when he perceived her,—feeble, shaking, leaning upon one person, and half carried by another!—he started back, staggered, gasped for breath,—but finding they were proceeding, advanced with trepidation, furiously calling out, “Hold! stop!—what is it you are doing? Monsters of savage barbarity, are you murdering my wife?”
The well-known voice no sooner struck the ears of Cecilia, than instantly recollecting it, she screamed, and, is suddenly endeavouring to spring forward, fell to the ground.
Delvile had vehemently advanced to catch her in his arms and save her fall, which her unexpected quickness had prevented her attendants from doing; but the sight of her changed complection, and the wildness of her eyes and air, again made him start,—his blood froze through his veins, and he stood looking at her, cold and almost petrified.
Her own recollection of him seemed lost already; and exhausted by the fatigue she had gone through in dressing and coming down stairs, she remained still and quiet, forgetting her design of proceeding, and forming no new one for returning.