greatest agitation of mind and body, "Your daughter"

The resolution Lord Elmwood had taken (and on which he had given his word to his nephew not to interrupt him) immediately gave way. The colour rose in his face--his eye darted lightning-and his hand was lifted up with the emotion that word had created.

"You promised to hear me, my lord," cried Rushbrook, "and I claim your promise."

He now suddenly overcame his violence of passion, and stood silent and resigned to hear him ; but with a determined look, expressive of the vengeance that should ensue.

"Lady Matilda," resumed Rushbrook, "is an object that wrests from me the enjoyment of every blessing your kindness bestows. I cannot but feel myself as her adversary--as one, who has supplanted her in your affections-who supplies her place, while she is exiled, a wanderer, and an orphan."

The earl took his eyes from Rushbrook, during this last sentence, and cast them on the floor.

"If I feel gratitude towards you, my lord," continued he, "gratitude is innate in my heart, and I must always feel it towards her who first introduced me to your protection."

Again the colour flew to Lord Elmwood's face; and again he could hardly restrain himself from uttering his indignation.

"It was the mother of Lady Matilda," continued Rushbrook, "who was this friend to me; nor will I ever think of marriage, or any other joyful prospect, while you abandon the only child of my beloved patroness, and load me with rights which belong to her."

Here Rushbrook stopped--Lord Elmwood was silent too, for near half a minute; but still his countenance continued fixed with his unvaried resolves.

After this long pause, the earl said with composure, which denoted firmness, "Have you finished, Mr. Rushbrook ?"

"All that I dare to utter, my lord; and I fear, I have already said too much."

Rushbrook now trembled more than ever, and looked pale as death; for the ardour of speaking being over, he waited his sentence, with less constancy of mind than he expected he should.

"You disapprove my conduct, it seems," said Lord Elmwood; "and in that, you are but like the rest of the world--and yet, among all my acquaintance, you are the only one who has dared to insult me with your opinion. And this you have not done inadvertently; but willingly and deliberately. But as it has been my fate to be used ill, and severed from all those persons to whom my soul has been most attached, with less regret I can part from you, than if this were my first trial." There was a truth and a pathetic sound in the utterance of these words, that struck Rushbrook to the heart--and he beheld himself as a barbarian,

who had treated his benevolent and only friend with insufferable liberty; void of respect for those corroding sorrows which had imbittered so many years of his life, and in open violation of his most peremptory commands. He felt that he deserved all he was going to suffer, and he fell upon his knees; not so much to deprecate the doom he saw impending, as thus humbly to acknowledge it was his due.

Lord Elmwood, irritated by this posture, as a sign of the presumptuous hope that he might be forgiven, suffered now his anger to burst all bounds; and raising his voice, he exclaimed with rage,

"Leave my house, sir. Leave my house instantly, and seek some other home."

Just as these words were begun, Sandford opened the library door, was witness to them, and to the imploring situation of Rushbrook. He stood silent with amazement!

Rushbrook arose, and feeling in his mind a presage, that he might never from that hour behold his benefactor more; as he bowed in token of obedience to his commands, a shower of tears covered his face ;-but Lord Elmwood, unmoved, fixed his eyes upon him, which pursued him with enraged looks to the end of the room. Here he had to pass Sandford; who for the first time in his life, took hold of him by the hand, and said to Lord Elmwood, "My lord, what's the matter?"

"That ungrateful villain," cried he, "has dared to insult me. Leave my house this moment, sir."

Rushbrook made an effort to go, but Sandford still held his hand; and meekly said to Lord Elmwood,

"He is but a boy, my lord, and do not give him the punishment of a man."

Rushbrook now snatched his hand from Sandford's, and threw it with himself upon his neck ; where he indeed sobbed like a boy.

"You are both in league," exclaimed Lord Elmwood.

"Do you suspect me of partiality to Mr. Rushbrook?" said Sandford, advancing nearer to the earl.

Rushbrook had now gained the point of remaining in the room; but the hope that privilege inspired (while he still harboured all the just apprehensions for his fate) gave birth, perhaps, to a more exquisite sensation of pain than despair would have done. He stood silent-confounded-hoping that he was forgiven-fearing that he was

not.

As Sandford approached still nearer to Lord Elmwood, he continued, "No, my lord, I know you do not suspect me of partiality to Mr. Rushbrook-has any part of my behaviour discovered

it ?"

"You now then only interfere to irritate me." "If that were the case," returned Sandford, "there have been occasions when I might have

done it more effectually-when my own heartstrings were breaking, because I would not irritate, or add to what you suffered."

"I am obliged to you, Mr. Sandford :" he returned, mildly and thankfully.

"And if, my lord, I have proved any merit in a late forbearance, reward me for it now; and take this young man from the depth of sorrow, in which I see he is sunk, and say you pardon him.”

Lord Elmwood made no answer-and Rushbrook, drawing strong inference of hope from his silence, lifted up his eyes from the ground, and ventured to look in his face: he found it serene to what it had been, but still strongly marked with agitation. He cast his eyes away again, in shame and confusion.

On which his uncle said to him—" I shall postpone the exacting of your obedience to my late orders, till you think fit once more to provoke themand then, not even Sandford shall dare to plead your excuse.'

Rushbrook bowed.

"Go, leave the room, sir." He instantly obeyed.

Then Sandford, turning to Lord Elmwood, shook him by the hand, and cried, "My lord, I thank you I thank you very kindly, my lord—I shall now begin to think I have some weight with you."

"You might indeed think so, did you know how much I have pardoned."

"What was his offence, my lord?"

"Such as I would not have forgiven you, or any earthly being besides himself-but while you were speaking in his behalf, I recollected there was a gratitude so extraordinary in the hazards he ran, that almost made him pardonable."

"I guess the subject then," cried Sandford; "and yet I could not have supposed"—

"It is a subject we cannot speak on, Sandford, therefore let us drop it."

At these words the discourse concluded.

CHAPTER XLVII.

To the relief of Rushbrook, Lord Elmwood that day dined from home, and he had not the confusion to see him again till the evening. Previous to this, Sandford and he met at dinner; but as the attendants were present, nothing passed on either side respecting the incident in the morning. Rushbrook, from the peril which had so lately threatened him, was now in his perfectly cool and dispassionate senses; and notwithstanding the real tenderness which he bore to the daughter of his benefactor, he was not insensible to the comfort of finding himself once more in the possession of all those enjoyments he had forfeited, and for a moment lost.

As he reflected on this, to Sandford he felt the

first tie of acknowledgment—but for his compassion, he knew he should have been at that very time of their meeting at dinner, away from Elmwood house for ever, and bearing on his mind a still more painful recollection, the burthen of his kind patron's continual displeasure. Filled with these thoughts, all the time of dinner, he could scarce look at his companion without tears of gratitude; and whenever he attempted to speak to him, gratitude choked his utterance.

Sandford, on his part, behaved just the same as ever; and to show he did not wish to remind Rushbrook of what he had done, he was just as uncivil

as ever.

Among other things he said, "He did not know Lord Elmwood dined from home; for, if he had, he should have dined in his own apart

ment."

Rushbrook was still more obliged to him for all this; and the weight of obligations with which he was oppressed made him long for an opportunity to relieve himself by expressions. As soon, therefore, as the servants were all withdrawn, he began :

"Mr. Sandford, whatever has been your opinion of me, I take pride to myself, that in my sentiments towards you, I have always distinguished you for that humane, disinterested character, you have this day proved."

"Humane and disinterested," replied Sandford, "are flattering epithets indeed, for an old man going out of the world, and who can have no temp

tation to be otherwise."

"Then suffer me to call your actions generous and compassionate, for they have saved me

"I know, young man," cried Sandford, interrupting him, " you are glad at what I have done, and that you find a gratification in telling me you are; but it is a gratification I will not indulge you with-therefore say another sentence on the subject, and" (rising from his seat) "I'll leave the room, and never come into your company again, whatever your uncle may say to it."

Rushbrook saw by the solemnity of his countenance, he was serious, and positively assured him he would never thank him more: on which Sandford took his seat again, but he still frowned, and it was many minutes before he conquered his ill` humour. As his countenance became less sour, Rushbrook fell from some general topics he had eagerly started in order to appease him, and said,

"How hard is it to restrain conversation from the subject of our thoughts; and yet amidst our dearest friends, and among persons who have the same dispositions and sentiments as our own, their minds, too, fixed upon the self-same objects, this constraint is practised-and thus, society, which was meant for one of our greatest blessings, bocomes insipid, nay, often more wearisome than solitude."

“I think, young man,” replied Sandford, “you

have made pretty free with your speech to-day, and ought not to complain of the want of toleration on that score."

"I do complain," replied Rushbrook ; "for if toleration were more frequent, the favour of obtaining it would be less."

"And your pride, I suppose, is above receiving a favour."

"Never from those I esteem you of it, I wish this moment to of you."

; and to convince

request a favour

"I dare say I shall refuse it. However, what is it?"

"Permit me to speak to you upon the subject of Lady Matilda ?"

Sandford made no answer, consequently did not forbid him-and he proceeded.

"For her sake-as I suppose Lord Elmwood may have told you-I this morning rashly threw myself into the predicament from whence you released me for her sake I have suffered muchfor her sake I have hazarded a great deal, and am still ready to hazard more."

"But for your own sake do not," returned Sandford, dryly.

"You may laugh at these sentiments as romantic, Mr. Sandford, but if they are, to me they are nevertheless natural."

"But of what service are they to be either to her or to yourself?"

"To me they are painful, and to her would be but impertinent, were she to know them."

"I shan't inform her of them, so do not trouble yourself to caution me against it."

"I was not going-you know I was not—but I was going to say, that from no one so well as from you, could she be told my sentiments, without the danger of receiving offence."

"And what impression do you wish to give her, from her becoming acquainted with them ?" "The impression, that she has one sincere friend that upon every occurrence in life, there is a heart so devoted to all she feels that she never can suffer without the sympathy of another : or can ever command him, and all his fortunes to unite for her welfare, without his ready, his immediate compliance.

"And do you imagine, that any of your professions, or any of her necessities, would ever prevail upon her to put you to the trial ?"

"Will it be of any to yourself?"

"The highest in the world."

"And so all you have been urging upon this occasion, is at last, only to please yourself." "You wrong my meaning-it is her merit

which inspires me with the desire of being known to her it is her sufferings, her innocence, her beauty"

Sandford stared-Rushbrook proceeded: "It is her--"

"Nay, stop where you are,” cried Sandford; 'you are arrived at the zenith of perfection in a woman, and to add one qualification more would be an anticlimax."

"Oh!" cried Rushbrook with warmth, "I loved her before I ever beheld her."

"Loved her!" cried Sandford, with marks of astonishment, "You are talking of what you did not intend."

"I am, indeed," returned he in confusion: "I fell by accident on the word love."

"And by the same accident stumbled on the word beauty; and thus by accident am I come to the truth of all your professions."

Rushbrook knew that he loved; and though his affection had sprung from the most laudable motives, yet was he ashamed of it, as of a vice :he rose, he walked about the room, and he did not look Sandford in the face for a quarter of an hour :-Sandford, satisfied that he had judged rightly, and yet unwilling to be too hard upon a passion, which he readily believed must have had many noble virtues for its foundation, now got up and went away,--without saying a word in censure, though not a word in approbation.

It was in the month of October, and just dark, at the time Rushbrook was left alone, yet in the agitation of his mind, arising from the subject on which he had been talking, he found it impossible to remain in the house, and therefore walked into the fields ;-but there was another instigation, more powerful than the necessity of walking --it was the allurement of passing along that path where he had last seen Lady Matilda, and where, for the only time, she condescended to speak to him divested of haughtiness; and with a gentleness that dwelt upon his memory beyond all her other endowments.

Here he retraced his own steps repeatedly, his whole imagination engrossed with her idea, till the sound of his father's carriage returning from his visit roused him, from the delusion of his trance, to the dread of the embarrassment he should endure on next meeting him. He hoped Sandford might be present, and yet he was now almost as much ashamed of seeing him as his uncle, whom he had so lately offended.

Loath to leave the spot where he was, as to enter the house, he remained there till he considered it would be ill manners, in his present humiliated situation, not to show himself at the usual supper hour, which was now nearly arrived.

As he laid his hand upon the door of the apartment to open it, he was sorry to hear, by Lord Elmwood's voice, he was in the room before him; for there was something much more conspicuously distressing in entering where he already was,

than had his uncle come in after him. He found himself, however, reassured, by overhearing the earl laugh and speak in a tone expressive of the utmost good humour to Sandford, who was with him.

Yet again he felt all the awkwardness of his own situation; but, making one courageous effort, opened the door and entered. Lord Elmwood had been away half the day, had dined abroad, and it was necessary to take some notice of his return; Rushbrook, therefore, bowed humbly, and, what was more to his advantage, he looked humbly. His uncle made a slight return to the salutation, but continued the recital he had begun to Sandford ;-than sat down to the supper table— supped-and passed the whole evening without saying a syllable, or even casting a look, in remembrance of what had passed in the morning. Or if there was any token, that showed he remembered the circumstance at all, it was the putting his glass to his nephew's, when Rushbrook called for wine, and drinking at the time he did.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

THE repulse Lord Margrave received, did not diminish the ardour of his pursuit; for as he was no longer afraid of resentment from the earl, whatever treatment his daughter might receive, he was determined the anger of Lady Matilda, or of her female friend, should not impede his pretensions.

Having taken this resolution, he laid the plan of an open violation of laws both human and divine; and he determined to bear away that prize by force, which no art was likely to procure. He concerted with two of his favourite companions, but their advice was, “One struggle more of fair means." This was totally against his inclination; for he had much rather have encountered the piercing cries of a female in the last agonies of distress, than the fatigue of her sentimental harangues, or elegant reproofs, such as he had the sense to understand, but not the capacity to an

swer.

Stimulated, however, by his friends to one more trial, in spite of the formal dismission he had twice received, he intruded another visit on Lady Matilda at the farm. Provoked beyond bearing at such unfeeling assurance, Matilda refused to come into the room where he was, and Miss Woodley alone received him, and expressed her surprise at the little attention he had paid to her explicit desire.

"Madam,” replied the nobleman, "to be plain with you, I am in love."

"I do not the least doubt it, my lord;" replied Miss Woodley: "nor ought you to doubt the truth of what I advance, when I assure you, that you have not the smallest reason to hope your

love will be returned; for Lady Matilda is resolved never to listen to your passion."

"That man," he replied, "is to blame, who can relinquish his hopes upon the mere resolution of a lady."

"And that lady would be wrong," replied Miss Woodley, "who should entrust her happiness in the care of a man who can think thus meanly of her and of her sex."

"I think highly of them all," he replied; "and to convince you in how high an estimation I hold her in particular, my whole fortune is at her command.

"Your entire absence from this house, my lord, she would consider as a much greater mark of your respect."

A long conversation, as uninteresting as the foregoing, ensued: when the unexpected arrival of Mr. Sandford put an end to it. He started at the sight of Lord Margrave; but the viscount was much more affected at the sight of him.

"My lord," said Sandford boldly to him, "have you received any encouragement from Lady Matilda to authorize this visit ?"

"None, upon my honour, Mr. Sandford; hope you know how to pardon a lover!"

but I

"A rational one I do-but you, my lord, are not of that class while you persecute the pretendcd object of your affection."

"Do you call it persecution that I once offered her a share of my title and fortune--and even now, declare my fortune to be at her disposal?"

Sandford was uncertain whether he understood his meaning—but Lord Margrave, provoked at his ill reception, felt a triumph in removing his doubts, and proceeded thus:

"For the discarded daughter of Lord Elmwood cannot expect the same proposals which I made, while she was acknowledged, and under the protection of her father."

"What proposals then, my lord ?" asked Sandford hastily.

"Such," replied he, " as the Duke of Avon made to her mother."

Miss Woodley quitted the room that instant. But Sandford, who never felt resentment but against those in whom he saw some virtue, calmly replied,

66

My lord, the Duke of Avon was a gentleman, a man of elegance and breeding; and what have you to offer in recompense for your defects in qualities like these?"

ous, which makes riches desirable; but if we are conspicuous only for our vice and folly, had we not better remain in poverty?"

"You are beneath my notice."

"I trust I shall continue so-and that your lordship will never again condescend to come where I am."

"A man of rank condescends to mix with any society, when a pretty woman is the object."

"My lord, I have a book here in my pocket, which I am eager to read; it is an author who speaks sense and reason-will you pardon the impatience I feel for such company; and permit me to call your carriage?"

Saying this, he went hastily and beckoned to the coachman; the carriage drove up, the door was opened, and Lord Margrave, ashamed to be exposed before his attendants, and convinced of the inutility of remaining any longer where he was, departed.

Sandford was soon joined by the ladies; and the conversation falling, of course, on the nobleman who had just taken his leave, Sandford unwarily exclaimed, "I wish Rushbrook had been here."

"Who?" cried Lady Matilda.

"I do believe," said Miss Woodley, that young man has some good qualities."

"A great many," returned Sandford, mutteringly.

"Lightly! Do you suppose, my dear, we turned your situation into ridicule ?"

"No, sir,—but there is a sort of humiliation in the grief to which I am doomed, that ought surely to be treated with the highest degree of delicacy by my friends."

"I don't know on what point you fix real delicacy; but if it consists in sorrow, the young man gives a proof he possesses it, for he shed tears when I last heard him mention your name."

"I have more cause to weep at the mention of his."

"Perhaps, so-But let me tell you, Lady Matilda, that your father might have preferred a more unworthy object."

"Still had he been to me," she cried, "an object of envy. And as I frankly confess my envy of Mr. Rushbrook, I hope you will pardon my malice, which is, you know, but a consequent crime."

The subject now turned again upon Lord Margrave; and all of them being firmly persuaded, this last reception would put an end to every further intrusion from him, they treated his pretensions, and himself, with the contempt they inspired—but not with the caution that was requisite.

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE next morning early, Mr. Sandford returned to Elmwood House, but with his spirits depress

"He cannot be otherwise," returned Matilda, “if he is a man of understanding.”

"He does not want understanding neither," replied Sandford; "although he has certainly many indiscretions."

"But which Lord Elmwood, I suppose," said Matilda, "looks upon with tenderness."

"Not upon all his faults," answered Sandford; "for I have seen him in very dangerous circumstances with your father."

"Have you indeed ?" cried Matilda: "then I pity him."

"And I believe," said Miss Woodley, "that from his heart, he compassionates you. Now, Mr. Sandford," continued she, "though this is the first time I ever heard you speak in his favour (and I once thought as indifferently of Mr. Rushbrook as you can do), yet now I will venture to ask you, whether you do not think he wishes Lady Matilda much happier than she is?"

"I have heard him say so," answered Sandford.

"It is a subject," returned Lady Matilda, "which I did not imagine you, Mr. Sandford, would have permitted him to have mentioned lightly, in your presence."

had seen Lady Matilda, the object of his visit, but he had beheld her considerably altered in her looks and in her health;-she was become very thin, and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her cheeks, her whole complexion was of a deadly pale-her countenance no longer expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy-she shed no tears, but was all sadness. He had beheld this, and he had heard her insulted by the licentious proposals of a nobleman, from whom there was no satisfaction to be demanded, because she had no friend to vindicate her honour.

Rushbrook, who suspected where Sandford was gone, and imagined he would return on the following day, took his morning's ride, so as to meet him on the road, at the distance of a few miles from the castle; for, since his perilous situation with Lord Elmwood, he was so fully convinced of the general philanthropy of Sandford's character, that in spite of his churlish manners, he now addressed him, free from that reserve to which his rough behaviour had formerly given birth. And Sandford, on his part, believing he had formed an illiberal idea of Lord Elmwood's heir, though he took no pains to let him know that his opinion was changed, yet resolved to make him restitution upon every occasion that offered.