ful man! I will no longer think of him." Yet could she have thought of him, without joining in the same idea Miss Fenton, her anguish had been supportable; but while she painted them as lovers, the tortures of the rack are not in many degrees more painful than those which she endured.

There are but few persons who ever felt the real passion of jealousy, because few have felt the real passion of love; but with those who have experienced them both, jealousy has not only affected the mind, but every fibre of their frame; and Miss Milner's every limb felt agonizing torment, when Miss Fenton, courted and beloved by Lord Elmwood, was present to her imagination.

The moment the opera was finished, she flew hastily down stairs, as if to fly from the sufferings she experienced. She did not go into the coffeeroom, though repeatedly urged by Miss Woodley, but waited at the door till her carriage drew up.

Piqued-heart-broken-full of resentment against the object of her uneasiness, and inattentive to all that passed, as she stood, a hand gently touched her own; and the most humble and insinuating voice said, "Will you permit me to lead you to your carriage?" She awakened from her reverie, and found Lord Frederick Lawnley by her side. Her heart, just then melting with tenderness to another, was perhaps more accessible than heretofore; or bursting with resentment, thought this the moment to retaliate. Whatever passion reigned that instant, it was favourable to the desires of Lord Frederick, and she looked as if she was glad to see him :-he beheld this with the rapture and humility of a lover; and though she did not feel the least particle of love in return, she felt gratitude in proportion to the insensibility with which she had been treated by her guardian; and Lord Frederick's supposition was not very erroneous, if he mistook this gratitude for a latent spark of affection. The mistake, however, did not force from him his respect: he handed her to her carriage, bowed low, and disappeared. Miss Woodley wished to divert her thoughts from the object which could only make her wretched, and as they rode home, by many encomiums upon Lord Frederick, endeavoured to incite her to a regard for him; Miss Milner was displeased at the attempt, and exclaimed,

"What! love a rake, a man of professed gallantry? impossible. To me, a common rake is as odious as a common prostitute is to a man of the nicest feelings. Where can be the joy, the pride, of inspiring a passion which fifty others can equally inspire?"

'Strange," cried Miss Woodley, "that you, who possess so many follies incident to your sex, should, in the disposal of your heart, have sentiments so contrary to women in general."

"My dear Miss Woodley," returned she, "put in competition the languid addresses of a libertine with the animated affection of a sober man, and

judge which has the dominion? Oh! in my calender of love, a solemn lord chief justice, or a devout archbishop, ranks before a licentious king."

Miss Woodley smiled at an opinion which she knew half her sex would ridicule; but by the air of sincerity with which it was delivered, she was convinced her recent behaviour to Lord Frederick was but the mere effect of chance.

Lord Elmwood's carriage drove to his door just at the time hers did; Mr. Sandford was with him, and they were both come from passing the evening at Mr. Fenton's.

"So, my lord," said Miss Woodley, as soon as they met in the drawing-room, "you did not come to us?"

"No," answered he, "I was sorry; but I hope you did not expect me."

ner;

"Not expect you, my lord!" cried Miss Mil"Did not you say that you would come ?" "If I had, I certainly should have come," returned he, "but I only said so conditionally."

"That I am a witness to," cried Sandford, "for I was present at the time, and he said it should depend upon Miss Fenton."

"And she, with her gloomy disposition," said Miss Milner, "chose to sit at home.”

"Gloomy disposition!" repeated Sandford : "she has a great share of sprightliness-and I think I never saw her in better spirits than she was this evening, my lord."

Lord Elmwood did not speak.

"Bless me, Mr. Sandford," cried Miss Milner, "I meant no reflection upon Miss Fenton's disposition; I only meant to censure her taste for staying at home."

"I think," replied Sandford, "a much heavier censure should be passed upon those who prefer rambling abroad."

"But I hope, ladies, my not coming," said Lord Elmwood, "was no inconvenience to you; for you had still, I see, a gentleman with you."

"Oh! yes, two gentlemen :" answered the son of Lady Evans, a youth from school, whom Miss Milner had taken along with her.

"What two?" asked Lord Elmwood.

Neither Miss Milner nor Miss Woodley answered.

"You know, madam," said young Evans, "that handsome gentleman who handed you into your carriage, and you called my lord."

"Oh! he means Lord Frederick Lawnley:" said Miss Milner carelessly, but a blush of shame spread over her face.

"And did he hand you into your coach ?” asked Lord Elmwood earnestly.

"By mere accident, my lord," Miss Woodley replied, "for the crowd was so great."

"I think, my lord," said Sandford, "it was very lucky that you were not there."

"Had Lord Elmwood been with us, we should not have had occasion for the assistance of any other," said Miss Milner.

"Lord Elmwood has been with you, madam," returned Sandford, "very frequently, and yet,-" "Mr. Sandford," said Lord Elmwood, interrupting him, "it is near bed-time, your conversation keeps the ladies from retiring."

"Your lordship's does not," said Miss Milner, "for you say nothing."

'Because, madam, I am afraid to offend."

"But do you not also hope to please? and without risking the one, it is impossible to arrive at the other."

"I think, at present, the risk would be too hazardous, and so I wish you a good night." And he went out of the room somewhat abruptly.

"Lord Elmwood," said Miss Milner, "is very grave he does not look like a man who has been passing the evening with the woman he loves."

"Perhaps he is melancholy at parting from her," said Miss Woodley.

"More likely offended," said Sandford, " at the manner in which that lady has spoken of her." Who, I? I protest I said nothing"

'Nothing! Did not you say that she was gloomy ?"

"Nothing but what I thought-I was going to add, Mr. Sandford."

"When you think unjustly, you should not express your thoughts."

"Then, perhaps, I should never speak."

"And it were better you did not, if what you say is to give pain. Do you know, madam, that my lord is going to be married to Miss Fenton?"

"Yes," answered Miss Milner.

"Do you know that he loves her ?"
"No," answered Miss Milner.
"How! do you suppose he does not ?"

"I suppose that he does, yet I don't know it." "Then if you suppose that he does, how can you have the imprudence to find fault with her in his presence ?"

"I did not-to call her gloomy was, I knew, to commend her both to him and to you, who admire such tempers."

"Whatever her temper is, every one admires it; and so far from its being what you have described, she has great vivacity; vivacity which comes from the heart."

"No, if it came from thence, I should admire it too; but if she has any, it rests there, and no one is the better for it."

"Pshaw!" said Miss Woodley, "it is time for us to retire; you and Mr. Sandford must finish your dispute in the morning."

"Dispute, madam!" said Sandford, "I never disputed with any one beneath a doctor of divinity in my life. I was only cautioning your friend not to make light of those virtues which it would do her honour to possess. Miss Fenton is a most amiable young woman, and worthy of just such a husband as my Lord Elmwood will make her."

"I am sure," said Miss Woodley, "Miss Milner thinks so she has a high opinion of Miss Fenton-she was at present only jesting."

"But, madam, a jest is a very pernicious thing, when delivered with a malignant sneer. I have known a jest destroy a lady's reputation-I have known a jest give one person a distaste for another-I have known a jest break off a marriage."

"But I suppose there is no apprehension of that in the present case ?" said Miss Woodley,-wishing he might answer in the affirmative.

"Not that I can foresee. No, Heaven forbid," he replied, "for I look upon them to be formed for each other-their dispositions, their pursuits, their inclinations the same. Their passion for each other just the same-pure-white as snow." "And, I dare say, not warmer;" replied Miss Milner.

He looked provoked beyond measure.

"My dear," cried Miss Woodley, "how can you talk thus? I believe in my heart you are only envious, because my Lord Elmwood has not offered himself to you."

"To her!" said Sandford, affecting an air of the utmost surprise; "to her! Do you think he received a dispensation from his vows, to become the husband of a coquette-a-." He was going on.

Nay Mr. Sandford," cried Miss Milner, "I believe, after all, my worst crime, in your eyes, is that of being a heretic."

"By no means--it is the only circumstance that can apologize for your faults; and if you had not that excuse, there would be none for you."

"Then, at present, these is an excuse-I thank you, Mr. Sandford, this is the kindest thing you ever said to me. But I am vexed to see that you are sorry for having said it."

"Angry at your being a heretic !" he resumed"Indeed I should be much more concerned to see you a disgrace to our religion."

Miss Milner had not been in a good humour the whole evening-she had been provoked several times to the full extent of her patience; but this harsh sentence hurried her beyond all bounds, and she arose from her seat in the most violent agitation, exclaiming, "What have I done to be thus treated?"

Though Mr. Sandford was not a man easily intimidated, he was upon this occasion evidently alarmed; and stared about him with so violent an expression of surprise, that it partook, in some degree of fear. Miss Woodley clasped her

friend in her arms, and cried with the tenderest affection and pity, "My dear Miss Milner, be composed."

Miss Milner sat down, and was so for a minute; but her dead silence was almost as alarming to Sandford as her rage had been; and he did not perfectly recover himself till he saw tears pouring down her face. He then heaved a sigh of content that all had thus ended; but in his

heart resolved never to forget the ridiculous affright into which he had been thrown. He stole out of the room without uttering a syllable: but as he never retired to rest before he had repeated a long form of evening prayer,-when this evening he came to that part which supplicates "Grace for the wicked," he took care to mention Miss Milner's name with most fervent devotion.

CHAPTER XXII.

Of the many restless nights that Miss Milner passed, this was not one. It is true, she had a weight of care upon her heart, even heavier than usual, but the burden had overcome her strength: wearied out with hopes, with fears, and, at the end, with disappointment and rage, she sunk at once into a deep slumber. But the more forgetfulness had then prevailed, the more powerful was the force of remembrance when she awoke. At first, so sound her sleep had been, that she had a difficulty in calling to mind why she was unhappy; but that she was unhappy she well recollected; when the cause came to her memory, she would have slept again-but it was impossible.

Though her rest had been unbroken, it had not been refreshing--she was far from well, and sent word of her indisposition, as an apology for not being present at breakfast. Lord Elmwood looked concerned when the message was delivered-Mr. Sandford shook his head.

"Miss Milner's health is not good!" said Mrs. Horton a few minutes after.

Lord Elmwood laid down the newspaper to attend to what she said.

"To me, there is something very extraordinary about her!" continued Mrs. Horton, finding she caught his lordship's attention.

"So there is to me!" added Sandford, with a sarcastic sneer.

"And so there is to me !" said Miss Woodley, with a serious face and heartfelt sigh.

Lord Elmwood gazed by turns at each, as cach delivered their sentiments-and when they were all silent, he looked bewildered, not knowing what judgment to form from any one of those

sentences.

Soon after breakfast, Mr. Sandford withdrew to his own apartment: Mrs. Horton, in a little time, went to hers: Lord Elmwood and Miss Woodley were left alone. He immediately rose from his seat, and said,

"I think, Miss Woodley, Miss Milner was extremely to blame, though I did not choose to tell her so before Mr. Sandford, in giving Lord Frederick an opportunity of speaking to her, unless she means that he shall renew his addresses."

"That, I am certain," replied Miss Woodley,

"she does not mean-and I assure you, my lord, seriously, it was by mere accident she saw him yesterday evening, or permitted his attendance upon her to her carriage."

"I am glad to hear it," he returned quickly; "for although I am not of a suspicious nature, yet in regard to her affection for him, I cannot but still have my doubts."

"You need have none, my lord," replied Miss Woodley, with a smile of confidence.

"And yet you must own her behaviour has warranted them--has it not been, in this particular, incoherent and unaccountable ?"

"The behaviour of a person in love, no doubt," answered Miss Woodley.

"Don't I say so?" replied he warmly; "and is not that a just reason for my suspicions ?"

"But is there only one man in the world on whom those suspicions can fix ?" said Miss Woodley, with the colour mounting into her face.

"Not that I know of-not one more that I know of," he replied, with astonishment at what she had insinuated, and yet with a perfect assurance that she was in the wrong.

"Perhaps I am mistaken," answered she.

"Nay, that is impossible too," returned he with anxiety--" You share her confidence-you are perpetually with her: and for that reason, even if she did not confide in you (which I know, and rejoice that she does), you would yet be acquainted with all her inclinations."

"I believe I am perfectly acquainted with them," replied Miss Woodley, with a significance in her voice and manner which convinced him, there was some secret to learn.

After a hesitation

"It is far from me," replied he, "to wish to be entrusted with the private sentiments of those who desire to withhold them from me; much less would I take any unfair means to be informed. To ask any more questions of you, I believe, would be unfair. Yet I cannot but lament that I am not as well instructed as you are. I wish to prove my friendship to Miss Milner, but she will not suffer me-and every step that I take for her happiness I take in the most perplexing uncertainty."

Miss Woodley sighed-but she did not speak. He seemed to wait for her reply; and as she made none, he proceeded

"If ever breach of confidence could be tolerated, I certainly know no occasion that would so justly authorize it as the present. I am not only proper from character, but from circumstances, to be relied upon-my interest is so nearly connected with the interest, and my happiness with the happiness of my ward, that those principles, as well as my honour, would protect her against every peril arising from my being trusted."

"Oh! my lord," cried Miss Woodley, with a most forcible accent, "You are the last person on earth she would pardon me for intrusting."

42

"Why so?" said he, warmly. "But that is the way-the person who is our friend we distrust-where a common interest is concerned, we are ashamed of drawing on a common danger -afraid of advice, though that advice is to pre-Miss Woodley," said he, changing his voice with excess of earnestness, "do you not believe, that I would do any thing to make Miss Milner happy ?"

serve us.

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Any thing in honour, my lord."

"She can desire nothing farther." He replied in agitation," Are her desires so unwarrantable that I cannot grant them ?"

Miss Woodley again did not speak-and he continued

"Great as my friendship is, there are certainly bounds to it-bounds that shall save her in spite of herself:"-and he raised his voice.

"In the disposal of themselves," resumed he, with a less vehement tone, "that great, that terrific disposal in marriage (at which I have always looked with fear and dismay), there is no accounting for the rashness of a woman's choice, or sometimes for the depravity of her taste. But in such a case, Miss Milner's election of a husband shall not direct mine. If she does not know how to estimate her own value, I do. Independent of her fortune, she has beauty to captivate the heart of any man; and with all her follies she has a frankness in her manner, an unaffected wisdom in her thoughts, a vivacity in her conversation, and withal, a softness in her demeanour, that might alone engage the affections of a man of the nicest sentiments, and the strongest understanding. I will not see all these qualities and accomplishments debased. It is my office to protect her from the consequences of a degrading choice, and I will execute the obligation."

"My lord, Miss Milner's taste is not a depraved one; it is but too refined."

"What can you mean by that, Miss Woodley? You talk mysteriously. Is she not afraid that I will oppose her inclinations?"

"She is sure that you will, my lord."

"Then the person must be unworthy of her." Miss Woodley rose from her seat-she clasped her hands-every look and every gesture proved her alternate resolution and irresolution to proceed farther. Lord Elmwood's attention was arrested before; but now it was fixed to a degree of curiosity and surprise, which her extraordinary manner could only have excited.

"My lord," said she, with a tremulous voice,"promise me, declare to me, nay, swear to me, that it shall ever remain a secret in your own breast, and I will reveal to you, on whom she has placed her affections."

This preparation made Lord Elmwood tremble; and he ran over instantly in his mind all the persons he could recollect, in order to arrive at the knowledge by thought, quicker than by words. It was in vain he tried; and he once more turned

his inquiring eyes upon Miss Woodley. He saw her silent and covered with confusion. Again he searched his own thoughts; nor ineffectually as before, at the first glance the object was presented, and he beheld himself.

The rapid emotion of varying passions, which immediately darted over his features, informed Miss Woodley that her secret was discovered :she hid her face, while the tears that fell down to her bosom, confirmed the truth of his mind's suggestion, more forcibly than oaths could have done. A short interval of silence followed, during which she suffered tortures for the manner in which he would next address her-a few seconds gave her this reply;

"For God's sake take care what you are doing-you are destroying my prospects of futurity-you are making this world too dear to me."

Her drooping head was then lifted up, and she caught the eye of Dorriforth ;-she saw it beam expectation, amazement, joy, ardour, and love. Nay, there was a fire, a vehemence in the quick fascinating rays it sent forth, she never before had seen-it filled her with alarm-she wished him to love Miss Milner, but to love her with moderation. Miss Woodley was too little versed in the subject, to know, this would have been not to love at all; at least, not the extent of breaking through engagements, and all the various obstacles that still militated against their union.

Lord Elmwood was sensible of the embarrassment his presence gave Miss Woodley, and understood the reproaches which she seemed to vent upon herself in silence. To relieve her from both, he laid his hand with force upon his heart, and said, "Do you believe me?"

"I do, my lord :" she answered, trembling. "I will make no unjust use of what I know:" he replied with firmness.

"I believe you, my lord."

"But for what my passions now dictate," continued he, "I will not hereafter answer. They are confused-they are triumphant at present. I have never yet, however, been vanquished by them; and even upon this occasion, my reason shall combat them to the last--and my reason shall fail me before I act dishonourably."

He was going to leave the room-she followed him, and cried, "But, my lord, how shall I see again the unhappy object of my treachery?"

"See her," replied he, "as one to whom you meant no injury, and to whom you have done none."

"But she would account it an injury."

"We are not judges of what belongs to ourselves" he replied--"I am transported at the tidings you have revealed, and yet, perhaps, it had been better if I had never heard them."

Miss Woodley was going to say something farther, but as if incapable of attending to her, he hastened out of the room.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Miss Woodley stood for some time to consider which way she was to go. The first person she met would inquire why she had been weeping? and if Miss Milner was to ask the question, in what words could she tell, or in what manner deny the truth? To avoid her was her first caution, and she took the only method; she had a hackney coach ordered, rode several miles out of town, and returned to dinner with so little remains of her swoln eyes, that complaining of the headach was a sufficient excuse for them.

Miss Milner was enough recovered to be present at dinner, though she hardly tasted a morsel. Lord Elmwood did not dine at home, at which Miss Woodley rejoiced, but at which Mr. Sandford appeared highly disappointed. He asked the servants several times, what my lord said when he went out? They replied, Nothing more than that he should not be at home to dinner." "I can't imagine where he dines ;" said Sandford. "Bless me, Mr. Sandford, can't you guess?" (cried Mrs. Horton, who by this time was made acquainted with his intended marriage) "He dines with Miss Fenton, to be sure." "No," replied Sandford, he is not there; I came from thence just now, and they had not seen him all day." Poor Miss Milner on this began to eat a little; for where we hope for nothing, we receive small indulgences with joy.

Notwithstanding the anxiety and trouble under which Miss Woodley had laboured all the morning, her heart for many weeks had not felt so light as it did this day at dinner. The confidence that she reposed in the promises of Lord Elmwoodthe firm reliance she had upon his delicacy and his justice-the unabated kindness with which her friend received her, while she knew that no one suspicious thought had taken harbour in her bosom-and the conscious integrity of her own intentions, though she might have been misled by her judgment, all comforted her with the hope, she had done nothing she ought to wish recalled. But although she felt thus tranquil, in respect to what she had divulged, yet she was a good deal disquieted with the dread of next seeing Lord Elmwood.

Miss Milner, not having spirits to go abroad, passed the evening at home. She read part of a new opera, played upon her harp, mused, sighed, occasionally talked with Miss Woodley, and so passed the tedious hours till near ten, when Mrs. Horton asked Mr. Sandford to play a game at piquet, and on his excusing himself, Miss Milner offered in his stead, and was gladly accepted. They had just begun to play when Lord Elmwood come into the room-Miss Milner's countenance immediately brightened, and though she was in a negligent morning dress, and looked paler than usual, she did not look less beautiful. Miss Woodley was leaning on the back of her chair to observe 10*

the game, and Mr. Sandford sat reading one of the fathers at the other side of the fire-place. Lord Elmwood, as he advanced to the table, bowed, not having seen the ladies since the morning, nor Miss Milner that day: they returned the salute, and he was going up to Miss Milner (as if to inquire of her health), when Mr. Sandford, laying down his book, said,

"My lord, where have you been all day ?" "I have been very busy," replied he, and, walking from the card-table, went up to him.

Miss Milner played one card for another. "You have been at Mr. Fenton's this evening, I suppose?" said Sandford.

"No; not at all to-day."

"How came that about, my lord ?"

Miss Milner played the ace of diamonds instead of the king of hearts.

"I shall call to-morrow," answered Lord Elmwood; and then walking with a very ceremonious air up to Miss Milner, said, "He hoped she was perfectly recovered."

Mrs. Horton begged her "to mind what she was about."

She replied, "I am much better, sir."

He then returned to Sandford again; but never, during all this time, did his eye once encounter Miss Woodley's; and she, with equal care, avoided his.

Some cold dishes were now brought up for supper-Miss Milner lost her deal, and the game ended.

As they were arranging themselves at the supper-table, "Do, Miss Milner," said Mrs. Horton, "have something warm for your supper; a chicken boiled, or something of that kind; you have eat nothing to-day."

With feelings of humanity, and apparently no other sensation-but never did he feel his philanthropy so forcible-Lord Elmwood said, “Let me beg of you, Miss Milner, to have something provided for you."

The carnestness and emphasis with which these few words were pronounced were more flattering than the finest turned compliment would have been; her gratitude was expressed in blushes, and by assuring him she was now "so well as to sup on the provisions before her." She spoke, how. ever, and had not made the trial; for the moment she carried a morsel to her lips, she laid it on her plate again, and turned paler, from the vain endeavour to force her appetite. Lord Elmwood had always been attentive to her; but now he watched her as he would a child; and when he saw by her struggles that she could not eat, he took her plate from her; gave her something else; and all with a care and watchfulness in his looks, as if he had been a tender-hearted boy, and she his darling bird, the loss of which would embitter all the joy of his holidays.

This attention had something in it so tender, so officious, and yet so sincere, that it brought the 297