CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford met at breakfast, the latter was pale with fear for the success of Lady Elmwood's letter-the earl was pale too, but there was besides upon his face something which evidently marked he was displeased-Sandford observed it, and was all humbleness, both in his words and looks, in order to soften him.

As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood drew the letter from his pocket, and holding it towards Sandford, said,

"That may be of more value to you than it is to me, therefore I give it you."

Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know the letter again.

""Tis Lady Elmwood's letter," said Lord Elmwood, and I return it to you for two reasons."

Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, "What those two reasons were ?"

"First," said he, "because I think it is a relic you may like to preserve-my second reason is, that you may show it to her daughter, and let her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother's request."

"You do then grant it?" cried Sandford joyfully: "I thank you--you are kind—you are considerate."

"Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to recall it."

"I know what you have said," replied Sandford; "you have said you grant Lady Elmwood's request--you cannot recall these words, nor I my gratitude."

"Do you know what her request is?" returned he.

"Not exactly, my lord-I told you before I did not; but it is no doubt something in favour of her child."

"I think not," he replied: "such as it is, however, I grant it :-but in the strictest sense of the word--no farther-and one neglect of my commands releases me from this promise totally."

"We will take care, sir, not to disobey them." "Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge of delivering them again. Lady Elmwood has petitioned me in the name of her father (a name I reverence), to give his grandchild the sanction of my protection. In the literal sense, to suffer that she may reside at one of my seats; dispensing at the same time with my ever seeing her."

"And you will comply?"

"I will, till she encroaches on this concession, and dares to hope for a greater. I will, while she avoids my sight, or the giving me any remembrance of her. But if, whether by design or by accident, I ever see or hear from her, that moment my compliance to her mother's supplication ceases, and I abandon her once more."

Sandford sighed. Lord Elmwood continued:

"I am glad her request stopped where it did. I would rather comply with her desires than not; and I rejoice they are such as I can grant with ease and honour to myself. I am seldom now at Elmwood castle; let her daughter go there ;-the few weeks or months I am down in the summer, she may easily in that extensive house avoid me -while she does, she lives in security-when she does not-you know my resolution."

Sandford bowed-the earl resumed :

"Nor can it be a hardship to obey this command-she cannot lament the separation from a parent whom she never knew-" Sandford was going eagerly to prove the error of that assertion, but he prevented him, by saying, "In a wordwithout farther argument-if she obeys me in this, I will provide for her as my daughter during my life, and leave her a fortune at my death-but if she dares-"

Sandford interrupted the menace prepared for utterance, saying, " And you still mean, I suppose, to make Mr. Rushbrook your heir?"

"Have you not heard me say so? And do you imagine I have changed my determination? I am not given to alter my resolutions, Mr. Sandford; and I thought you knew I was not ;-besides, will not my title be extinct, whoever I make my heir ?— Could any thing but a son have preserved my title?"

"Then it is yet possible

"By marrying again, you mean ?—No-no-I have had enough of marriage-and Henry Rushbrook I shall leave my heir. Therefore, sir

"My lord, I do not presume-"

"Do not, Sandford, and we may still be good friends. But I am not to be controled as formerly; my temper is changed of late; changed to what it was originally; till your religious precepts reformed it. You may remember, how troublesome it was to conquer my stubborn disposition in my youth; then, indeed, you did; but in my more advanced age, you will find the task too difficult."

Sandford again repeated, "he should not pre

sume-"

To which Lord Elmwood again made answer, "Do not, Sandford ;" and added, "for I have a sincere regard for you, and should be loath, at these years, to quarrel with you seriously."

Sandford turned away his head to conceal his feelings.

"Nay, if we do quarrel," resumed Lord Elmwood, "you know it must be your own fault ;and as this is a theme the most likely of any, nay, the only one of which we can have a difference (such as we cannot forgive), take care never from this day to renew it ;-indeed that of itself would be an offence I could not pardon. I have been clear and explicit in all I have said; there can be no fear of mistaking my meaning; therefore, all future explanation is unnecessary-nor will I permit a word, or a hint on the subject from any one,

without showing my resentment even to the hour of my death." He was going out of the room.

"But before we bid adieu to the subject for ever, my lord-there was another person whom I named to you-"

"Do you mean Miss Woodley?—Oh, by all means let her live at Elmwood house too. On consideration, I have no objection to see Miss Woodley at any time-I shall be glad to see her. Do not let her be frightened at me-to her I shall be the same that I have always been."

'She is a good woman, my lord,” cried Sandford, delighted.

"You need not tell me that, Mr. Sandford; I know her worth."-And he left the room.

Sandford to relieve Miss Woodley and her lovely charge from the suspense in which he had left them, prepared to set off for their habitation, and meant himself to conduct them from thence to Elmwood castle, and appoint some retired part of it for Lady Matilda, against the annual visit which her father should pay there. To confirm this caution, before he left London, Giffard, the steward, took an opportunity to wait upon him, and let him know that his lord had acquainted him with the consent he had given for his daughter to be admitted at Elmwood castle, and upon what restrictions; that he had further uttered the severest threats, should these restrictions ever be infringed. Sandford thanked Giffard for his friendly information. It served him as a second warning of the circumspection that was necessary; and having taken leave of his friend and patron, under the pretence that "he could not live in the smoke of London," he set out for the north.

It is unnecessary to say with what joy Sandford was received by Miss Woodley, and the helpless daughter of Lord Elmwood, even before he told his errand. They both loved him sincerely; more especially Lady Matilda, whose forlorn state, and innocent sufferings, had ever excited his compassion, and caused him to treat her with affection, tenderness, and respect. She knew too, how much he had been her mother's friend; for that, she also loved him; and for his being honoured with the friendship of her father, she looked up to him with reverence. For Matilda (with an excellent understanding, a sedateness above her years, and having been early accustomed to the private converse between Lady Elmwood and Miss Woodley) was perfectly acquainted with the whole fatal history of her mother; and was, by her, taught the esteem and admiration of her father's virtues which they so justly merited.

Notwithstanding the joy of Mr. Sandford's presence, once more to cheer their solitary dwelling; no sooner were the first kind greetings over, than the dread of what he might have to inform them of possessed poor Matilda and Miss Woodley so powerfully that all their gladness was changed into affright. Their apprehensions were far more forcible than their curiosity;-they dared not ask

At

a question, and even began to wish he would continue silent upon the subject on which they feared to listen. For near two hours he was so. length, after a short interval from speaking (during which they waited with anxiety for what he might next say), he turned to Lady Matilda, and said,

"You don't ask for your father, my dear." "I did not know it was proper:" she replied timidly.

"It is always proper," answered Sandford, "for you to think of him, though he should never think on you."

She burst into tears, and said that she "did think of him, but she felt an apprehension of mentioning his name." And she wept bitterly while she

"Do not be so much alarmed, my dear," said Miss Woodley; you know we are prepared for the worst; and you know you promised your mother, whatever your fate should be, to submit with patience."

"Yes," replied Matilda, "and I am prepared for every thing but my father's refusal to my dear mother."

"Your father has not refused your mother's re quest," replied Sandford.

She was leaping from her seat in ecstasy. "But," continued he, "do you know what her request was?"

"Not entirely," replied Matilda, "and since it is granted, I am careless. But she told me her letter concerned none but me."

To explain perfectly to Matilda Lady Elm wood's letter, and that she might perfectly understand upon what terms she was admitted into Elmwood castle, Sandford now read the letter to her; and repeated, as nearly as he could remember, the whole of the conversation that passed between Lord Elmwood and himself; not even sparing, through an erroneous delicacy, any of those threats her father had denounced, should she dare to transgress the limits he prescribed-nor did he try to soften, in one instance, a word he uttered. She listened sometimes with tears, sometimes with hope, but always with awe and with terror, to every sentence in which her father was concerned. Once she called him cruel-then exclaimed "he was kind ;" but at the end of Sandford's intelligence, concluded "that she was happy and grateful for the boon bestowed." Even her mother had not a more exalted idea of Lord

Elmwood's worth than his daughter had formed; and this little bounty just obtained would not have been greater in her mother's estimation than it was now in hers. Miss Woodley, too, smiled at the prospect before her-she esteemed Lord Elmwood beyond any mortal living-she was proud to hear what he had said in her praise, and overjoyed at the expectation of being once again in his company; painting at the same time a thousand bright hopes, from watching every motion of his soul, and catching every proper occasion to excite or increase his paternal sentiments. Yet she had the prudence to conceal those vague hopes from his child, lest a disappointment might prove fatal; and assuming a behaviour neither too much elated or depressed, she advised that they should hope for the best, but yet, as usual, expect and prepare for the worst.-- -After taking measures for quitting their melancholy abode, within the fortnight, they all departed for Elmwood castle, Matilda, Miss Woodley, and even Sandford, first visiting Lady Elmwood's grave, and bedewing it with their

tears.

CHAPTER XXXV.

It was on a dark evening in the month of March that Lady Matilda, accompanied by Sandford and Miss Woodley, arrived at Elmwood castle, the magnificent seat of her father. Sandford chose the evening, rather to steal into the house privately, than by any appearance of parade to suffer Lord Elmwood to be reminded of their arrival by the public prints, or by any other accident, Nor would he give the neighbours or servants reason to suppose the daughter of their lord was admitted into his house, in any other situation than that in which she really was permitted to be there.

As the porter opened the gates of the avenue to the carriage that brought them, Matilda felt an awful and yet gladsome sensation, which no terms can describe. As she entered the door of the mansion this sensation increased-and as she passed along the spacious hall, the splendid staircase, and many stately apartments, wonder, with a crowd of the tenderest, yet most afflicting sentiments, rushed to her heart. She gazed with astonishment! --she reflected with still more.

"And is my father the master of this house?" she cried-" and was my mother once the mistress of this castle ?"-Here tears relieved her from a part of that burthen which was before insupport

able.

"Yes," said she, "but though I heard it with extreme pleasure, yet the expectation never so forcibly affected me as at this moment. I now feel, as the reality approaches, that to be admitted here is kindness enough-I do not ask for more-1 am now convinced, from what this trial makes me feel, that to see my father would occasion emotions I could not perhaps survive."

The next morning gave to Matilda more objects of admiration and wonder, as she walked over the extensive gardens, groves, and other pleasure grounds belonging to the house. She, who had never been beyond the dreary, ruinous places which her deceased mother had made her residence, was naturally struck with amazement and delight at the granduer of a seat which travellers came for miles to see, nor thought their time misspent.

There was one object, however, among all she saw, which attracted her attention above the rest, and she would stand for hours to look at it,―This was a whole length portrait of Lord Elmwood, esteemed a very capital picture, and a perfect likeness-to this picture she would sigh and weep; though when it was first pointed out to her she shrunk back with fear, and it was some time before she dared venture to cast her eyes completely upon it. In the features of her father she was proud to discern the exact mould in which her own appeared to have been modeled; yet Matilda's person, shape, and complexion were so extremely like what her mother's once were, that at the first glance she appeared to have a still greater resemblance of her than of her father-but her mind and manners were all Lord Elmwood's; softened by the delicacy of her sex, the extreme tenderness of her heart, and the melancholy of her situation.

She was now in her seventeenth year-of the same age, within a year and a few months, of her mother, when she first became the ward of Dorriforth. She was just three years old when her father went abroad, and remembered something of bidding him farewell; but more of taking cher ries from his hand, as he pulled them from the tree to give her.

Educated in the school of adversity, and inured to retirement from her infancy, she had acquired a taste for all those amusements which a recluse life affords. She was fond of walking and ridingwas accomplished in the arts of music and drawing, by the most careful instructions of her mother -and as a scholar, she excelled most of her sex, from the pains which Sandford had taken with that part of her education, and the superior abilities he possessed for the task.

In devoting certain hours of the day to study with him, others to music, riding, and such harm less recreations, Matilda's time never appeared tedious at Elmwood castle, although she received and paid no one visit:-for it was soon divulged in the neighbourhood, upon what stipulation she resided at her father's, and studiously intimated,

:

that the most prudent and friendly behaviour of her true friends would be to take no notice whatever that she lived among them and as Lord Elmwood's will was a law all around, such was the consequence of that will, known, or merely supposed.

Neither did Miss Woodley regret the want of visitors, but found herself far more satisfied in her present situation than her most sanguine hopes could have formed-She had a companion whom she loved with an equal fondness with which she had loved her deceased mother; and frequently, in this charming habitation, where she had so often beheld Lady Elmwood, her imagination represented Matilda as her friend risen from the grave, in her former youth, health, and exquisite beauty.

In peace, in content, though not in happiness, the days and weeks passed away till about the middle of August, when preparations began to be made for the arrival of Lord Elmwood. The week in which he was to come was at length fixed, and some part of his retinue was arrived before him. When this was told Matilda, she started, and looked just as her mother at her age had often done, when, in spite of her love, she was conscious that she had offended him, and was terrified at his approach. Sandford observing this involuntary emotion, put out his hand, and taking hers, shook it kindly; and bade her (but it was not in a cheering tone) "not be afraid." This gave her no confidence; and she began before her father's arrival, to seclude herself in the apartments allotted for her during the time of his stay; and in the timorous expectation of his coming, her appetite declined, and she lost all her colour. Even Miss Woodley, whose spirits had been for some time elated with the hopes she had formed, from his residence at the castle, on drawing near to the test, found those hopes vanished; and though she endeavoured to conceal it, she was full of apprehensions. Sandford had certainly fewer fears than either; yet upon the eve of the day on which his patron was to arrive he was evidently cast down.

Lady Matilda once asked him-" Are you certain, Mr. Sandford, you made no mistake in respect to what Lord Elmwood said, when he granted my mother's request? Are you sure he did grant it? Was there nothing equivocal on which he may ground his displeasure, should he be told that I am here?—Oh, do not let me hazard being once again turned out of this house!-Oh! save me from provoking him perhaps to execrate me." And here she clasped her hands together with the most fervent petition, in the dread of what might happen.

"If you doubt my word or my senses," said Sandford, "call Giffard, who is just arrived, and let him inform you;-the same words were repeated to him as to me."

Though from her reason, Matilda could not

doubt of any mistake from Mr. Sandford, yet her fears suggested a thousand scruples; and this reference to the steward she received with the utmost satisfaction (though she did not think it necessary to apply to him), as it perfectly convinced her of the folly of the suspicions she had entertained.

"And yet, Mr. Sandford," said she, "if it is so, why are you less cheerful than you were? I cannot help thinking but it must be the expected arrival of Lord Elmwood which has occasioned this change."

"I don't know," replied Sandford, carelessly, "but I believe I am grown afraid of your father. His temper is a great deal altered from what it once was he raises his voice, and uses harsh expressions upon the least provocation-his eyes flash lightning, and his face is distorted with anger upon the slightest motives-he turns away his old servants at a moment's warning, and no concession can make their peace. In a word, I am more at my ease when I am away from him-and I really believe," added he with a smile, but with a tear at the same time, "I really believe, I am more afraid of him in my age, than he was of me when he was a boy."

Miss Woodley was present; she and Matilda looked at one another; and each of them saw the other turn pale at this description.

The day at length came, on which Lord Elmwood was expected to dinner. It would have been a high gratification to his daughter to have gone to the topmost window of the house, and have only beheld his carriage enter the avenue; but it was a gratification which her fears, her tremor, her extreme sensibility would not permit her to enjoy.

Miss Woodley and she sat down that day to dinner in their retired apartments, which were detached from the other part of the house by a gallery; and of the door leading to the gallery they had a key, to impede any one from passing that way, without first ringing a bell; to answer which was the sole employment of a servant, who was placed there during the earl's residence, least by any accident he might chance to come near that unfrequented part of the house; on which occasion the man was to give immediate notice to his lady, so as she might avoid his presence by retiring into an inner room.

Matilda and Miss Woodley sat down to dinner, but did not dine. Sandford dined as usual, with Lord Elmwood. When tea was brought, Miss Woodley asked the servant who attended, if he had seen his lord. The man answered, "Yes, madam; and he looks vastly well." Matilda wept with joy to hear it.

About nine in the evening, Sandford rang at the bell, and was admitted-never had he been so welcome―Matilda hung upon him, as if his recent interview with her father had endeared him to her more than ever; and staring anxiously in

his face, seemed to inquire of him something about Lord Elmwood, and something that should not alarm her.

"Well, how do you find yourself?" said he to her. "How are you, Mr. Sandford ?" she returned with a sigh.

"Oh! very well,” replied he.

"Is my lord in a good temper?" asked Miss Woodley.

"Yes; very well," replied Sandford, with indifference.

"Did he seem glad to see you?" asked Matilda.

"He shook me by the hand," replied Sandford.

"That was a sign he was glad to see you, was it not?" said Matilda.

"Yes; but he could not do less." "Nor more :" replied she.

"He looks very well, our servant tells us," said Miss Woodley.

"Extremely well indeed," answered Sandford : "and to tell the truth, I never saw him in better spirits."

"That is well," said Matilda, and sighed a weight of fears from her heart.

"Where is he now, Mr. Sandford ?"

"Gone to take a walk about his grounds, and I stole here in the mean time."

"What was your conversation during dinner?" asked Miss Woodley.

"Horses, hay, farming, and politics." "Won't you sup with him?"

"I shall see him again before I go to bed?" "And again to-morrow!"-cried Matilda,— "what happiness!"

"He has visitors to-morrow," said Sandford, "coming for a week or two."

"Thank Heaven," said Miss Woodley, "he will then be diverted from thinking on us."

"Do you know," returned Sandford, "it is my firm opinion, that his thinking of you at present is the cause of his good spirits."

"Oh, Heavens!" cried Matilda, lifting up her hands with rapture.

"Nay, do not mistake me;" said Sandford, "I would not have you build a foundation for joy upon this surmise; for if he is in spirits that you are in this house-so near him-positively under his protection-yet he will not allow himself to think it is the cause of his content-and the sentiments he has adopted, and which are now become natural to him, will remain the same as ever; nay, perhaps with greater force, should he suspect his weakness (as he calls it) acting in opposition to them."

"If he does but think of me with tenderness," cried Matilda, "I am recompensed."

"And what recompense would his kind thoughts be to you," said Sandford, "were he to turn you out to beggary?"

“A great deal—a great deal,” she replied.

"But how are you to know he has these kind thoughts, if he gives you no proof of them?"

"No, Mr. Sandford; but supposing we could know them without proof."

"But as that is impossible," answered he, "I shall suppose, till proof appears, that I have been mistaken in my conjectures."

Matilda looked deeply concerned that the argument should conclude in her disappointment; for to have believed herself thought of with tenderness by her father would have alone constituted her happiness.

When the servant came up with something by way of supper, he told Mr. Sandford that his lord was returned from his walk and had inquired for him: Sandford immediately bade his companions good night, and left them.

"How strange is this?" cried Matilda, when Miss Woodley and she were alone-" My father within a few rooms of me, and yet I am debarred from seeing him!-Only by walking a few paces I could be at his feet, and perhaps receive his blessing!"

"You make me shudder," cried Miss Woodley; "but some spirit less timid than mine might perhaps advise you to the experiment."

"Not for worlds!" returned Matilda, no counsel could tempt me to such temerity-and yet to entertain the thought that it is possible I could do this is a source of infinite comfort."

This conversation lasted til bed-time, and la ter; for they sat up beyond their usual hour to indulge it.

Miss Woodley slept little, but Matilda less--she awaked repeatedly during the night, and every time sighed to herself, "I sleep in the same house with my father! Blessed spirit of my mother, look down and rejoice."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE next day the whole castle appeared to Lady Matilda (though she was in some degree retired from it) all tumult and bustle, as was usually the case while Lord Elmwood was there. She saw from her windows the servants running across the yards and park; horses and carriages driving with fury; all the suite of a nobleman; and it sometimes elated, at other times depressed ed.

These impressions however, and others of fear and anxiety, which her father's arrival had excited, by degrees wore off; and after some little time, she was in the same tranquil state that she enjoyed before he came.

He had visitors, who passed a week or two with him; he paid visits himself for several days; and thus the time stole away, till it was about four weeks from the time that he had arrived in which long period, Sandford, with all his penetra