She and Miss Woodley had taken an airing to see the poor child, young Rushbrook. Lord Elmwood inquiring of the ladies how they had passed and their morning, Miss Milner frankly told him; added, "what pain it gave her to leave the child behind, as he had again cried to come away with her."

"Go for him then to-morrow," said Lord Elmwood," and bring him home."

"Home!" she repeated, with surprise.

"Yes," replied he, " if you desire it, this shall be his home-you shall be a mother, and I will, henceforward, be a father to him."

Sandford, who was present, looked unusually sour at this high token of regard for Miss Milner; yet, with resentment on his face, he wiped a tear of joy from his eye, for the boy's sake-his frown was the force of prejudice, his tear the force of

nature.

Rushbrook was brought home; and whenever Lord Elmwood wished to show a kindness to Miss Milner, without directing it immediately to her, he took his nephew upon his knee, talked to him, and told him he "was glad they had become acquainted."

In the various, though delicate, struggles for power between Miss Milner and her guardian, there was not one person a witness to these incidents, who did not suppose that all would at last end in wedlock-for the most common observer perceived, that ardent love was the foundation of every discontent, as well as of every joy they experienced. One great incident, however, totally reversed the hope of all future accommodation. The fashionable Lady Ggave a masked ball; tickets were presented to persons of quality and fashion; among the rest, three were sent to Miss Milner. She had never been at a masquerade, and received them with ecstasy-the more especially, as the masque being at the house of a woman of fashion, she did not conceive there could be any objection to her going. She was mistaken -the moment she mentioned it to Lord Elmwood, he desired her, somewhat sternly, "Not to think of being there." She was vexed at the prohibition, but more at the manner in which it was de. livered, and boldly said, "That she should certainly go."

She expected a rebuke for this, but what alarmed her much more, he said not a word; but he looked with a resignation which foreboded her greater sorrow than the severest reproaches would have done. She sat for a minute, reflecting how to rouse him from this composure :-she first thought of attacking him with upbraidings; then she thought of soothing him; and at last of laughing at him. This was the most dangerous method of all, and yet, this she ventured upon.

"I am sure your lordship," said she, "with all your saintliness, can have no objection to my being present at the masquerade, if I go as a nun." He made no reply.

"That is a habit," continued she, "which covers a multitude of faults-and for that evening, I may have the chance of making a conquest even of you-nay, I question not if, under that inviting attire, even the pious Mr. Sandford would not ogle me."

"Hush!" said Miss Woodley.

"Why hush?” cried Miss Milner aloud, though Miss Woodley had spoken in a whisper-"I am sure," continued she, "I am only repeating what I have read in books about nuns and their confessors."

"Your conduct, Miss Milner," replied Lord Elmwood, "gives evident proofs of the authors you have read; you may spare yourself the trouble of quoting them."

Her pride was hurt at this, beyond bearing; and, as she could not, like him, govern her anger, it flushed in her face, and almost forced her to tears.

My lord," said Miss Woodley (in a tone so soft and peaceful that it might have calmed the resentment of both), "my lord, suppose you were to accompany Miss Milner? there are tickets for three, and you can then have no objection."

Miss Milner's brow was immediately smoothed; and she fetched a sigh, in anxious expectation that he would consent.

"I go, Miss Woodley ?" he replied with astonishment-"Do you imagine I would play the buffoon at a masquerade ?"

Miss Milner's face changed to its former appearance.

"I have seen grave characters there, my lord," said Miss Woodley.

"Dear Miss Woodley," cried Miss Milner, "why persuade Lord Elmwood to put on a mask, just at the time he has laid it aside?"

His patience was now tempted to its height, and he answered, "If you suspect me of inconsistency, madam, you shall find me changed."

Pleased that she had been able at last to irritate him, she smiled with a degree of triumph, and in that humour was going to reply; but before she could speak four words, and before she thought of it, he abruptly left the room.

She was highly offended at this insult, and declared "from that moment she banished him from her heart for ever." To prove that she sot his love and his anger at equal defiance, she immediately ordered her carriage, and said, she "was going to some of her acquaintance, whom she knew to have tickets, and with whom she would fix upon the habit she was to appear in at the masquerade; for nothing, unless she was locked up, should alter the resolution she had formed of being there." To remonstrate at that moment Miss Woodley knew would be in vain-her coach came to the door, and she drove away.

She did not return to dinner, nor till it was late in the evening; Lord Elmwood was at home, but he never once mentioned her name.

She came home, after he had retired, in great

spirits; and then, for the first time, in her whole life, appeared careless what he might think of her conduct but her whole thoughts were occupied upon the business which had employed the chief of her day and her dress engrossed all her conversation, as soon as Miss Woodley and she were alone. She told her, she had been shown the greatest variety of beautiful and becoming dresses she had ever beheld; "and yet," said she, "I have at last fixed upon a very plain one; but one I look so well in, that you will hardly know me when I have it on."

"You are seriously then resolved to go," said Miss Woodley, "if you hear no more on the subject from your guardian?"

"Whether I do hear or not, Miss Woodley, I am equally resolved to go."

"But you know, my dear, he has desired you not-and you used always to obey his commands."

"As my guardian, I certainly did obey him; and I could obey him as a husband; but as a lover I will not."

"Yet that is the, way never to have him for a bushand."

"As he pleases-for if he will not submit to be my lover, I will not submit to be his wife--nor has he the affection I require in a husband."

Thus the old sentiments, repeated again and again, prevented a separation till towards morning.

Miss Milner, for that night, dreamed less of her guardian than of the masquerade. On the evening of the next day it was to be :-she was up early, breakfasted in her dressing-room, and remained there most of the day, busied in a thousand preparations for the night; one of them was, to arrange her hair in falling ringlets. Her next care was, that her dress should display her fine person to the best advantage-it did so. Miss Woodley entered as it was trying on, and was all astonishment at the elegance of the habit, and its beautiful effect upon her graceful figure; but, most of all, she was astonished at her venturing on such a character-for though it represented the goddess of chastity, yet from the buskins, and the petticoat festooned far above the ancle, it had, on a first glance, the appearance of a female much less virtuous. Miss Woodley admired this dress, yet objected to it; but as she admired first, her objections after had no weight.

"Where is Lord Elmwood?" said Miss Milner-" he must not see me."

"No, for heaven's sake," cried Miss Woodley, "I would not have him see you in such a disguise for the universe."

"And yet," returned the other with a sigh, "why am I thus pleased with my dress? for I had rather he should admire me than all the world besides, and yet he alone must not see me in it." "But he would not admire you so dressed," said Miss Woodley.

"How shall I contrive to avoid him," said Miss Milner, "if in the evening he should offer to hand me into my carriage?-But I believe he will not be in good humour enough to do that."

"You had better dress at the house of the ladies with whom you go," said Miss Woodley; and this was agreed upon.

At dinner they learned that Lord Elmwood was to go that evening to Windsor, in order to be in readiness for the king's hunt early in the morning. This intelligence having dispersed Miss Milner's fears, she concluded upon dressing at home.

Lord Elmwood appeared at dinner, in an even, but not in a good temper ;-the subject of the masquerade was never mentioned, nor indeed was it once in his thoughts; for though he was offended at his ward's behaviour on the occasion, and considered that she committed a fault in telling him "she would go," yet he never suspected she meant to do so, not even at the time she said she did, much less that she would persist, coolly and deliberately, in so direct a contradiction to his will. She, on her part, flattered herself, that his going to Windsor was intended in order to give her an opportunity of passing the evening as she pleased, without his being obliged to know of it, and consequently to complain. Miss Woodley, who was willing to hope as she wished, began to be of the same opinion; and, without reluctance, dressed herself as a wood-nymph to accompany her friend.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Ar half after eleven, Miss Milner's chair and another with Miss Woodley, took them from Lord Elmwood's, to call upon the party (wood-nymphs, and huntresses) who where to accompany them, and make up the suit of Diana.

They had not left the house two minutes, when a thundering rap came at the door-it was Lord Elmwood in a post-chaise. Upon some occasion the next day's hunt was deferred he had been made acquainted with it, and came from Windsor at that late hour. After he had informed Mrs. Horton and Mr. Sandford, who were sitting together, of the cause of his sudden return, and had some supper ordered to be brought in for him, he inquired, "What company had been supping

ly.

"What do you know, madam?" said he sharp

"Nothing," said Mrs. Horton, "I know nothing" and she lifted up her hands and shook her head.

"So all people say, who know a great deal," cried Sandford," and I suspect that is at present your case."

"Then I know more than I wish, I am sure, Mr. Sandford," returned she, shrugging up her shoulders.

Lord Elmwood was all impatience. "Explain, madam, explain."

"Dear my lord," said she, "if your lordship will recollect, you may just have the same knowledge that I have.”

"Recollect what?" said he sternly.

"The quarrel you and your ward had about the masquerade."

"What of that, she is not gone there?" he cried.

"I am not sure she is," returned Mrs. Horton; "but if your lordship saw two sedan chairs going out of this house, I cannot but suspect it must be Miss Milner and my niece going to the masquerade."

He made no answer, but rang the bell violently. A servant entered. "Send Miss Milner's maid hither," said he "immediately." The man withdrew.

"Nay, my lord," cried Mrs. Horton, "any of the other servants could tell you just as well whether Miss Milner is at home or gone out." "Perhaps not," replied he.

The maid entered.

"Where is your mistress ?" said Lord Elmwood.

The woman had received no orders to conceal where the ladies were gone, and yet a secret influence, which governs the thoughts of all waiting-women and chambermaids, whispered to her that she ought not to tell the truth.

"Where is your mistress?" repeated he, in a louder voice than before.

"Gone out, my Lord," she replied. "Where?"

"My lady did not tell me."

"And don't you know?"

"No, my lord:" she answered, and without blushing.

"Is this the night of the masquerade?" said he. "I don't know, my Lord, upon my word; but, I believe, my lord, it is not."

Sandford, as soon as Lord Elmwood had asked the last question, ran hastily to the table, at the other side of the room, took something from it, and returned to his place again-and when the maid said, "It was not the night of the masquerade," he exclaimed, “But it is, my lord, it is—yes, it is," and, showing a newpaper in his hand, pointed to the paragraph which contained the informa

tion.

"Leave the room," said Lord Elmwood to the woman, "I have done with you." She went away.

"Yes, yes, here it is," repeated Sandford, with the paper still in his hand. He then read the paragraph: "The masquerade at the right honourable Lady G -'s this evening"—"This evening, my lord, you find'-" it is expected will be the most brilliant of any thing of the kind for these many years past."

"They should not put such things in the papers," said Mrs. Horton, "to tempt young women to their ruin." The word ruin grated upon Lord Elmwood's ear, and he said to the servant who came to wait on him, while he supped, "Take the supper away." He had not attempted either to eat, or even to sit down; and he now walked backwards and forwards in the room, lost in thought and care.

A little time after, one of Miss Milner's footmen came in upon some occasion, and Mr. Sandford said to him, "Pray did you attend your lady to the masquerade?"

"Yes, sir," replied the man.

Lord Elmwood stopped himself short in his walk, and said to the servant, "You did." "Yes, my lord," replied he.

He walked again.

"I should like to know what she was dressed in," said Mrs. Horton: and turning to the servant, "Do you know what your lady had on ?" "Yes, madam,” replied the man, “she was in men's clothes."

"How!" cried Lord Elmwood.

"You tell a story, to be sure," said Mrs. Hor

ton to the servant.

"No," cried Sandford, "I am sure he does not; for he is an honest good young man, and would not tell a lie upon any account-would you, Thomas?"

Lord Elmwood ordered Miss Milner's woman to be again sent up. She came.

"In what dress did your lady go to the masquerade?" he asked, and with a look so extremely morose, it seemed to command the answer in a single word, and that word to be truth.

A mind, with a spark of sensibility more than this woman possessed, could not have equivocated with such an interrogator; but her reply was, "She went in her own dress, my lord."

"Was it a man's or a woman's?" asked he, with a look of the same command.

"Ha, ha, my lord," (half laughing and half crying) "a woman's dress, to be sure, my lord." On which Sandford cried

"Call the footman up, and let him confront her."

He was called; but Lord Elmwood, now disgusted at the scene, withdrew to the further end of the room, and left Sandford to question them.

With all the authority and consequence of a country magistrate, Sandford-his back to the

fire, and the witnesses before him, began with the footman.

"In what dress do you say that you saw your lady decorated, when you attended, and went along with her to the masquerade?"

"In men's clothes," replied the man, boldly and firmly as before.

"Bless my soul, Thomas, how can you say such a thing?" cried the woman.

"What dress do you say she went in ?" cried Sandford to her.

"In women's clothes, indeed, sir."

"This is very odd!" said Mrs. Horton.

"Had she on, or had she not on, a coat?" asked Sandford.

"Yes, sir, a petticoat," replied the woman. "Do you say she had on a petticoat?" said Sandford to the man.

"I can't answer exactly for that," replied he, "but I know she had boots on."

"They were not boots," replied the maid, with vehemence "indeed sir, (turning to Sandford) they were only half boots."

"My girl," said Sandford kindly to her," your own evidence convicts your mistress-What has a woman to do with any boots?"

Impatient at this mummery, Lord Elmwood rose, ordered the servants out of the room, and then, looking at his watch, found it was near one. "At what hour am I to expect her home?" said he.

"Perhaps not till three in the morning," answered Mrs. Horton.

"Three! more likely six," cried Sandford.

"I can't wait with patience till that time," answered Lord Elmwood, with a deep and most anxious sigh.

"You had better go to bed, my lord," said Mrs. Horton; "and, by sleeping, the time will pass away unperceived."

"If I could sleep, madam."

"Will you play a game of cards, my lord?" said Sandford, "for I will not leave you till she comes home; and though I am not used to sit up all night

"All night!" repeated Lord Elmwood; "she dares not stay all night."

"And yet, after going," said Sandford, "in defiance to your commands, I should suppose she dared."

"She is in good company, at least, my lord," said Mrs. Horton.

"She does not know herself what company she is in," replied he.

"How should she," cried Sandford, where every one hides his face ?"

Till five o'clock in the morning, in conversation like this, the hours lingered away. Mrs. Horton, indeed, retired to her chamber at two, and left the gentlemen to a more serious discourse; but a discourse still less advantageous to poor Miss Milner.

She, during this time, was at the scene of pleasure she had painted to herself, and all the pleasure it gave her was, that she was sure she should never desire to go to a masquerade again. Its crowd and bustle fatigued her-its freedom offended her delicacy-and though she perceived that she was the first object of admiration in the place, yet there was one person still wanting to admire; and the regret at having transgressed his injunctions for so trivial an entertainment weighed upon her spirits, and added to their weariness. She would have come away sooner than she did; but she could not, with any degree of good manners, leave the company with whom she went: and not till half after four were they prevailed on to return.

Daylight just peeped through the shutters of the room in which Lord Elmwood and Sandford were sitting, when the sound of her carriage, and the sudden stop it made at the door, caused Lord Elmwood to start from his chair. He trembled extremely, and looked pale. Sandford was ashamed to seem to notice it, yet he could not help asking him "to take a glass of wine."-He took it-— and, for once, evinced he was reduced so low as to be glad of such a resource.

What exact passion thus agitated Lord Elmwood at this crisis, it is hard to define :-Perhaps it was indignation at Miss Milner's imprudence and exultation at being on the point of revengeperhaps his emotion arose from joy, to find that she was safe returned—perhaps it was perturbation at the grief he felt that he must upbraid her— perhaps it was not one alone of these sensations, but all of them combined.

She, wearied out with the tedious night's dissipation, and far less joyous than melancholy, had fallen asleep as she rode home, and came half asleep out of her carriage. "Light me to my bedchamber instantly," said she to her maid, who waited in the hall to receive her. But one of Lord Elmwood's valets went up to her and answered, 66 Madam, my lord desires to see you before you retire."

66

"Your lord!" she cried, " is he not from town?" 'No, madam, my lord has been at home ever since you went out; and has been sitting up with Mr. Sandford waiting for you."

She was wide awake immediately. The heavi ness was removed from her eyes, but fear, sorrow, and shame seized upon her heart. She leaned against her maid, as if unable to support herself under those feelings, and said to Miss Woodley,

"Make my excuse-I cannot see him to-night -I am unfit--indeed I cannot."

Miss Woodley was alarmed at the prospect of going to him by herself, and thus, perhaps, irritating him still more: she, therefore, said, "He has sent for you; for heaven's sake, do not disobey him a second time."

"No, dear madam, don't," cried her woman, "for he is like a lion-he has been scolding me."

"Good God!" exclaimed Miss Miiner, and in a tone that seemed prophetic, "Then he is not to be my husband, after all.”

"Yes," cried Miss Woodley, "if you will only be humble, and appear sorry. You know your power over him, and all may yet be well."

She turned her speaking eyes upon her friend, the tears starting from them, her lips trembling"Do I not appear sorry?" she cried.

The bell at that moment rang furiously, and they hastened their steps to the door of the apartment where Lord Elmwood was.

"No," replied Miss Woodley to her last question, "this shuddering is only fright: say to him you are sorry, and beg his pardon,"

"I cannot," replied she, "if Mr. Sandford be with him."

The servant opened the door, and she and Miss Woodley went in. Lord Elmwood, by this time, was composed, and received her with a slight inclination of his head-she bowed to him in return, and said, with some marks of humility,

66 I suppose, my lord, I have done wrong." "You have indeed, Miss Milner," answered he; "but do not suppose that I mean to upbraid you: I am, on the contrary, going to release you from any such apprehension for the future."

Those last three words he delivered with a countenance so serious and so determined, with an accent so firm and so decided, they pierced through her heart. Yet she did not weep, or even sigh; but her friend, knowing what she felt, exclaimed, "Oh !" as if for her.

She herself strove with her anguish, and replied (but with a faltering voice), "I expected as much, my lord."

"Then, madam, you perhaps expect all that I intend ?"

"In regard to myself," she replied, "I suppose I do."

"Then," said he, "you may expect that in a few days we shall part."

"I am prepared for it, my lord," she answered, and, while she said so, sunk upon her chair.

"My lord, what you have to say farther," said Miss Woodley, in tears, "defer till the morning-Miss Milner, you see, is not able to bear it now."

"I have nothing to say farther," replied he, coolly-"I have now only to act."

"Lord Elmwood," replied Miss Milner, divided between grief and anger, "you think to terrify me by your menaces-but I can part with youheaven knows I can—your late behaviour has reconciled me to a separation."

On this he was going out of the room-but Miss Woodley, catching hold of him, cried, "Oh! my lord, do not leave her in this sorrow -pity her weakness, and forgive it." She was proceeding; and he seemed as if inclined to listen, when Sandford called out in a tone of voice so harsh,

"Miss Woodley, what do you mean?"-She gave a start and desisted.

Lord Elmwood then turned to Sandford and said, "Nay, Mr. Sandford, you need entertain no doubts of me I have judged, and have deter———"

He was going to say determined; but Miss Milner, who dreaded the word interrupted the period, and exclaimed, "Oh! could my poor father know the days of sorrow I have experienced since his death, how would he repent his fatal choice of a protector."

This sentence, in which his friend's memory was recalled, with an additional allusion to her long and secret love for him, affected Lord Elmwood-he was much moved, but ashamed of being so, and as soon as possible conquered the propensity to forgive. Yet, for a short interval, he did not know whether to go out of the room, or to remain in it; whether to speak or to be silent. At length he turned towards her, and said,

"Appeal to your father in some other form-in that (pointing at her dress) he will not know you. Reflect upon him, too, in your moments of dissipation, and, let his memory control your indiscretions--not merely in an hour of contradiction call peevishly upon his name, only to wound the dearest friend you have."

There was a degree of truth, and a degree of passionate feeling, in the conclusion of this speech, that alarmed Sandford-he caught up one of the candles, and, laying hold of his friend's elbow, drew him out of the room, crying, "Come, my lord, come to your bedchamber-it is very late-it is morning-it is time to rise." And by a continual repetition of these words, in a very loud voice, he wilfully drowned whatever Lord Elmwood, or any other person, might have wished either to have said or to have heard.

In this manner Lord Elmwood was forced out of the apartment, and the evening's vicissitudes ended.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Two whole days passed in the bitterest suspence on the part of Miss Milner, while neither one word nor look from Lord Elmwood denoted the most trivial change of the sentiments he had declared on the night of the masquerade. Still those sentiments, or intentions, were not explicitly delivered; they were more like intimations than solemn declarations-for though he had said, "He would never reproach her for the future," and that "She might expect they should part," he had not positively said they should; and upon this doubtful meaning of his words she hung with the strongest agitation of hope and of fear.

Miss Woodley, seeing the distress of her mind (much as she endeavoured to conceal it), entreated, nay, implored of her to permit her to be a me