tion, could never clearly discover whether he had once called to mind that his daughter was living in the same house. He had not once named her (that was not extraordinary) consequently no one dared name her to him; but he had not even mentioned Miss Woodley, of whom he had so lately spoken in the kindest terms, and had said, "he should take pleasure in seeing her again. From these contradictions in Lord Elmwood's behaviour in respect to her, it was Miss Woodley's plan neither to throw herself in his way, nor avoid him. She therefore frequently walked about the the house while he was in it, not indeed entirely without restraint, but at least with the show of liberty. This freedom, indulged for some time without peril, became at last less cautious; and as no ill consequences had arisen from its practice, her scruples gradually ceased.

One morning, however, as she was crossing the large hall, thoughtless of danger, a footstep at a distance alarmed her almost without knowing why. She stopped for a moment, thinking to return; the steps approached quicker, and before she could retreat, she beheld Lord Elmwood at the other end of the hall, and perceived that he saw her. It was too late to hesitate what was to be done; she could not go back, and had not courage to go on; she therefore stood still. Dis. concerted, and much affected at his sight (their former intimacy coming to her mind with the many years, and many sad occurrences passed, since she last saw him), all her intentions, all her meditated schemes how to conduct herself on such an occasion, gave way to a sudden shock-and to make the meeting yet more distressing, her very fright, she knew, would serve to recall more powerfully to his mind the subject she most wished him to forget. The steward was with him, and as they came up close by her side, Giffard, observing him look at her earnestly, said softly, but so as she heard him, "My lord, it is Miss Woodley." Lord Elmwood took off his hat instantlyand, with an apparent friendly warmth, laying hold of her hand, he said, "Indeed, Miss Woodley, I did not know you--I am very glad to see you :" and, while he spoke, shook her hand with a cordiality which her tender heart could not bearand never did she feel so hard a struggle as to restrain her tears. But the thought of Matilda's fate -the idea of awakening in his mind a sentiment, that might irritate him against his child, wrought more forcibly than every other effort; and though she could not reply distinctly, she replied without weeping. Whether he saw her embarrassment, and wished to release her from it, or was in haste to conceal his own, he left her almost instantly: but not till he had entreated she would dine that very day with him and Mr. Sandford, who were to dine without other company. She curtsied assent, and flew to tell Matilda what had occurred. After listening with anxiety and with joy to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand which she

said Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with love and reverence.

When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner, Sandford (who had not seen her since the invitation, and did not know of it) looked amazed!-on which Lord Elmwood said, "Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley this morning, and, had it not been for Giffard, I should have passed her without knowing her-but, Miss Woodley, if I am not so much altered but that you knew me, I take it unkind that you did not speak first." She was unable to speak even now -he saw it, and changed the conversation; when Sandford eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain of the former.

As they advanced in their dinner, the embarrassment of Miss Woodley and of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord Elmwood in his turn became, not embarrassed, but absent and melancholy. He now and then sighed heavily-and called for wine much oftener than he was accustomed.

When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine with him and Sandford whenever it was convenient to her;-he said, besides, many things of the same kind, and all with the utmost civility, yet not with that warmth with which he had spoken in the morning-into that he had been surprised-his coolness was the effect of reflection.

When she came to lady Matilda, and Sandford had joined them, they talked and deliberated on what had passed.

"You acknowledge, Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "that you think my presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as to make him much more thoughtful than usual: if you imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I will never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him think of his daughter, I cannot go too often."

"I don't see how he can divide those two objects in his mind," replied Sandford, "therefore you must e'en visit him on, and take your chance what reflections you may cause-but be they what they will, time will steal away from you that power of affecting him."

She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked into Lord Elmwood's apartments, dined, or took her coffee with him, as the accident suited; and observed, according to Sandford's prediction, that time wore off the impression her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now became just the same before her as before others. She easily discerned, too, through all that politeness which he assumed--that he was no longer the considerate, the forbearing character he formerly was; but haughty, impatient, imperious, and more than ever implacable.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

WHEN Lord Elmwood had been at his country

seat about six weeks, Mr. Rushbrook his nephew, and his adopted child-that friendless boy whom Lady Elmwood first introduced into his uncle's house, and by her kindness preserved there-arrived from his travels, and was received by his uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he thought worthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a beautiful boy, and was now an extremely handsome young man; he had made unusual progress in his studies, had completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned home with the air and address of a perfect man of fashion-there was, besides, an elegance and persuasion in his manner almost irresistible. Yet with all those accomplishments, when he was introduced to Sandford, and put forth his hand to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance, gave it to him; and when Lord Elmwood asked him, in the young man's "If he did not think his nephew presence, greatly improved?" he looked at him from head to foot, and muttered, "He could not say he observed it." The colour heightened in Mr. Rushbrook's face upon the occasion, but he was too well bred not to be in perfect good humour.

Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of Lord Elmwood, with the same respect and attention as if he had been his son; and it was but probable that the old priest would make a comparison between the situation of him and of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was Sandford's meaning to have concealed his thoughts upon the subject, and never to have mentioned it but with composure; that was, however, impossible-unused to hide his feelings, at the name of Rushbrook his countenance would always change, and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a frown of resentment, would force its way in spite of his resolution. Miss Woodley, too, with all her boundless charity and good will, was, upon this occasion, induced to limit their excess; and they did not extend so far as to reach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in reality did not think him handsome or engaging in his manners--she thought his gaiety frivolousness, his complaisance affeetation, and his good humour impertinence. It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable sentiments entirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it frequently did, Miss Woodley's undisguised heart, and Sandford's undisguised countenance, told them instantly. Matilda had the understanding to imagine, that she was, perhaps, the object who had thus deformed Mr. Rushbrook, and frequently (though he was a stranger to her, and one who had caused her many a jealous heartach), frequently would she speak in his vindication.

"You are very good," said Sandford, one day to her; "you like him, because you know your father loves him."

This was a hard sentence for the daughter of Lord Elmwood to hear, to whom her father's love would have been more precious than any other 11*

blessing--she, however, checked the assault of envy, and kindly replied,

"My mother loved him too, Mr. Sandford." "Yes," answered Sandford, he has been a grateful man to your poor mother--she did not suppose when she took him into the house; when she entreated your father to take him; and, through her caresses and officious praises of him, first gave him that power which he now possesses over his uncle; she little foresaw, at that time, his ingratitude, and its effects."

"What ingratitude ?" asked Matilda, "do you suppose Mr. Rushbrook is the cause that my father will not see me? Oh, do not pay Lord Elmwood's motive so ill a compliment."

"I do not say that he is the absolute cause," returned Sandford; "but if a parent's heart is void, I would have it remain so, till its lawful owner is replaced-usurpers I detest."

"No one can take Lord Elmwood's heart by force," replied his daughter, "it must, I believe, be a free gift to the possessor; and, as such, whoever has it has a right to it."

In this manner she would plead the young man's excuse—perhaps but to hear what could be said in his disfavour, for secretly his name was bitter to her and once she exclaimed in vexation, on Sandford's saying Lord Elmwood and Mr. Rushbrook were gone out shooting together,

"All that pleasure is eclipsed which I used to take in listening to the report of my father's gun, for I cannot now distinguish his from his parasite's."

Sandford (much as he disliked Rushbrook), for this expression which comprised her father in the reflection, turned to Matilda in extreme anger -but as he saw the colour rise in her face, for what, in the strong feelings of her heart, had escaped her lips, he did not say a word--and by her tears that followed, he rejoiced to see how much she reproved herself.

Miss Woodley, vexed to the heart, and provoked every time she saw Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook together, and saw the familiar terms on which this young man lived with his benefactor, now made her visits to him very seldom. If Lord Elmwood observed this, he did not appear to observe it; and though he received her politely when she did pay him a visit, it was always very coldly; nor did she suppose if she never went, he would ever ask for her. For his daughter's sake, however, she thought it right sometimes to show herself before him; for she knew it must be impossible that, with all his apparent indifference, he could ever see her without thinking for a moment on his child; and what one fortunate thought might some time bring about was an object much too serious for her to overlook. She therefore, after remaining confined to her own suit of rooms near three weeks (excepting those anxious

329

walks she and Matilda stole, while Lord Elmwood dined, or before he rose in a morning), went one forenoon into his apartments, where, as usual, she found him, with Mr. Sandford and Mr. Rushbrook.

-After she had sat about half an hour, conversing with them all, though but very little with the latter, Lord Elmwood was called out of the room upon some business; presently after, Sandford; and now, by no means pleased with the companion with whom she was left, she rose, and was also retiring, when Rushbrook fixed his speaking eyes upon her, and cried,

"Miss Woodley, will you pardon me what I am going to say?"

"Certainly, sir-you can, I am sure, say nothing but what I must forgive."-But she made this reply with a distance and a reserve, very unlike the usual manners of Miss Woodley.

He looked at her earnestly and cried, "Ah! Miss Woodley, you don't behave so kindly to me as you used to do!"

"I do not understand you, sir," she replied very gravely;" times are changed, Mr. Rushbrook, since you were last here you were then but a child."

"Yet I love all those persons now, that I loved then," replied he; "and so I shall for ever."

"But you mistake, Mr. Rushbrook; I was not even then so very much the object of your affections there were other ladies you loved better. Perhaps you don't remember Lady Elmwood ?" "Don't I," cried he, "Oh!" (clasping his hands and lifting up his eyes to heaven) "shall I ever forget her?"

That moment Lord Elmwood opened the door; the conversation of course that moment ended; but confusion, at the sudden surprise, was on the face of both parties-he saw it, and looked at each of them by turns, with a sternness that made poor Miss Woodley ready to faint; while Rushbrook with the most natural and happy laugh that ever was affected, cried, "No, don't tell my lord, pray, Miss Woodley." She was more confused than before, and Lord Elmwood turning to him, asked what the subject was. By this time he had invented one, and, continuing his laugh, said, "Miss Woodley, my lord, will to this day protest that she saw my apparition when I was a boy; and she says it is a sign I shall die young, and is really much affected at it."

Lord Elmwood turned away before this ridiculous speech was concluded; yet so well had it been acted that he did not for an instant doubt its truth.

Miss Woodley felt herself greatly relieved; and yet so little is it in the power of those we dislike to do any thing to please us, that from this very circumstance, she formed a more unfavourable opinion of Mr. Rushbrook than she had done before. She saw in this little incident the art of dissimulation, cunning, and duplicity in its most glaring shape; and detested the method by which

they had each escaped Lord Elmwood's suspicion, and perhaps anger, the more because it was so dexterously managed.

Lady Matilda and Sandford were both in their turns informed of this trait in Mr. Rushbrook's character; and although Miss Woodley had the best of dispositions, and upon every occasion spoke the strictest truth, yet in relating this occurrence, she did not speak all the truth; for every circumstance that would have told to the young man's advantage literally had slipped her memory.

The twenty-ninth of October arrived, on which a dinner, a ball, and supper, was given by Lord Elmwood to all the neighbouring gentry-the peasants also dined in the park off a roasted bullock, several casks of ale were distributed, and the bells of the village rung. Matilda, who heard and saw some part of this festivity from her windows, inquired the cause; but even the servant who waited upon her had too much sensibility to tell her, and answered, "He did not know." Miss Woodley, however, soon learned the reason, and groaning with the painful secret, informed her, "Mr. Rushbrook on that day was come of age."

"My birthday was last week,” replied Matilda, but not a word beside.

In their retired apartments, this day passed away not only soberly, but almost silently; for to speak upon any subject that did not engage their thoughts had been difficult, and to speak upon the only one that did had been afflicting.

Just as they were sitting down to dinner their bell gently rung, and in walked Sandford.

зneer

"Why are you not among the revellers, Mr. Sandford ?" cried Miss Woodley, with an ironical -(the first her features ever wore)—" Pray, were not you invited to dine with the company?" "Yes," replied Sandford; "but my head ached; and so I had rather come and take a bit with you."

Matilda, as if she had seen his heart as he spoke, clung round his neck and sobbed on his bosom: he put her peevishly away, crying "Nonsense, nonsense,-eat your dinner." But he did not eat himself.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

ABOUT a week after this, Lord Elmwood went out two days for a visit; consequently Rushbrook was for that time master of the house. The first morning he went a-shooting, and, returning about noon, inquired of Sandford who was sitting in the breakfast-room, if he had taken up a volume of plays left upon the table. "I read no such things," replied Sandford, and quitted the room abruptly. Rushbrook then rang for his servant, and desired him to look for the book, asking him angrily, "Who had been in the apartment? for he was sure he had left it there when he went out." The scrvant withdrew to inquire, and presently return

ed with the volume in his hand, and "Miss Woodley's compliments; she begs your pardon, sir, she did not know the book was yours, and hopes you will excuse the liberty she took."

"Miss Woodley!" cried Rushbrook with surprise, "she comes so seldom into these apartments, I did not suppose it was she who had it-take it back to her instantly, with my respects, and I beg she will keep it."

The man went; but returned with the book again, and laying it on the table without speaking, was going away; when Rushbrook, hurt at receiving no second message, said, "I am afraid, sir, you did very wrong when you first took this book from Miss Woodley."

"It was not from her I took it, sir," replied the man, "it was from Lady Matilda."

Since he had entered the house, Rushbrook had never before heard the name of Lady Matilda,— he was shocked-confounded more than everand to conceal what he felt, instantly ordered the man out of the room.

In the mean time, Miss Woodley and Matilda were talking over this trifling occurrence; and frivolous as it was, drew from it strong conclusions of Rushbrook's insolence and power. In spite of her pride, the daughter of Lord Elmwood even wept at the insult she had received on this insig nificant occasion; for the volume being merely taken from her at Mr. Rushbrook's command, she felt an insult; and the manner in which it was done by the servant might contribute to the offence.

While Miss Woodley and she were upon this conversation, a note came from Rushbrook to Miss Woodley, wherein he entreated he might be permitted to see her. She sent a verbal answer, "She was engaged." He sent again, begging she would name her own time. But sure of a second denial, he followed the servant who took the last message, and as Miss Woodley came out of her apartment into the gallery to speak to him, Rushbrook presented himself, and told the man to retire.

"Mr. Rushbrook," said Miss Woodley, "this intrusion is unmannerly ;—and destitute as you may think me of the friendship of Lord Elmwood".

In the ardour with which Rushbrook was wait

ing to express himself, he interrupted her, and caught hold of her hand.

She immediately snatched it from him, and withdrew into her chamber.

He followed, saying, in a low voice, "Dear Miss Woodley, hear me."

At that juncture Lady Matilda, who was in an inner apartment, came out of it into Miss Woodley's. Perceiving a gentleman, she stopped short at the door.

Rushbrook cast his eyes upon her, and stood motionless-his lips only moved. "Do not depart, madam," said he, "without hearing my apology for being here."

Though Matilda had never seen him since her infancy, there was no occasion to tell her who it was that addressed her--his elegant and youthful person, joined to the incident which had just occurred, convinced her it was Rushbrook she looked at him with an air of surprise, but, with still more, of dignity.

:

"Miss Woodley is severe upon me, madam,” continued he, "she judges me unkindly; and I am afraid she will prepossess you with the same unfavourable sentiments."

Still Matilda did not speak, but looked at him with the same air of dignity.

"If, Lady Matilda," resumed he, "I have of fended you, and must quit you without pardon, I am more unhappy than I should be with the loss of your father's protection-more forlorn than, when an orphan boy, your mother first took pity

on me."

At this last sentence, Matilda turned her eyes on Miss Woodley, and seemed in doubt what reply she was to give.

Rushbrook immediately fell upon his knees"Oh! Lady Matilda," cried he, "if you knew the sensations of my heart, you would not treat me with this disdain."

"We can only judge of those sensations, Mr. Rushbrook," said Miss Woodley, "by the effect they have upon your conduct; and while you insult Lord and Lady Elmwood's daughter by an intrusion like this, and then ridicule her abject state by mockeries like these"

He rose from his knees instantly, and interrupted her, crying, "What can I do ?-What am I to say, to make you change your opinion of me?— While Lord Elmwood has been at home, I have kept an awful distance: and though every mo ment I breathed was a wish to cast myself at his daughter's feet, yet as I feared, Miss Woodley, that you were incensed against me, by what means was I to procure an interview but by stratagem or force?—This accident has given a third method, and I had not strength, I had not courage, to let it pass. Lord Elmwood will soon return, and we may both of us be hurried to town immediately-then how, for a tedious winter, could I endure the reflection that I was despised, nay, perhaps considered as an object of ingratitude, by the only child of my deceased benefactress ?"

Matilda replied with all her father's haughtiness, "Depend upon it, sir, if you should ever enter my thoughts, it will only be as an object of envy."

control of my actions-his commands I never dispute." And here she burst into tears.

Rushbrook walked towards the window, and did not speak for some time-then turning himself to make a reply, both Matilda and Miss Woodley were somewhat surprised to see that he had shed tears himself. Having conquered them, he said, "I will not offend you, madam, by remaining one moment longer; and I give you my honour, that, upon no pretence whatever, will I presume to intrude here again. Professions, I find, have no weight, and only by this obedience to your orders can I give a proof of that respect which you inspire ;-and let the agitation I now feel convince you, Lady Matilda, that, with all my seeming good fortune, I am not happier than yourself." And so much was he agitated while he delivered this address that it was with difficulty he came to the conclusion. When he did, he bowed with reverence, as if leaving the presence of a deity, and retired.

Matilda immediately entered the chamber she had left, without casting a single look at Miss Woodley by which she might guess of the opinion she had formed of Mr. Rushbrook's conduct. The next time they met they did not even mention his name; for they were ashamed to own a partiality in his favour, and were too just to bring any accusation against him.

But Miss Woodley, the day following, communicated the intelligence of this visit to Mr.` Sandford, who not having been present, and a witness of those marks of humility and respect which were conspicuous in the deportment of Mr. Rushbrook, was highly offended at his presumption, and threatened if he ever dared to force his company there again, he would acquaint Lord Elmwood with his arrogance, whatever might be the event. Miss Woodley, however, assured him, she believed he would have no cause for such a complaint, as the young man had made the most solemn promise never to commit the like offence; and she thought it her duty to enjoin Sandford, till he did repeat it, not to mention the circumstance, even to Rushbrook himself.

Matilda could not but feel a regard for her father's heir,, in return for that which he had so fervently declared for her; yet the more favourable her opinion of his mind and manners, the more he became an object of her jealousy for the affections of Lord Elmwood, and he was now, consequently, an object of greater sorrow to her than when she believed him less worthy. These sentiments were reversed on his part towards her -no jealousy intervened to bar his admiration and esteem-the beauty of her person, and grandeur of her mien, not only confirmed, but improved the exalted idea he had formed of her previous to their meeting, and which his affection to both her parents had inspired. The next time he saw his penefactor, he began to feel a new esteem and regard for him, for his daughter's sake; as he had

at first an esteem for her, on the foundation of his love for Lord and Lady Elmwood. He gazed with wonder at his uncle's insensibility to his own happiness, and would gladly have led him to the jewel he cast away, though even his own expulsion should have been the fatal consequence. Such was the youthful, warm, generous, grateful, but unreflecting mind of Rushbrook.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

AFTER this incident, Miss Woodley left her apartments less frequently than before-she was afraid, though till now mistrust had been a stranger to her heart, she was afraid, that duplicity might be concealed under the apparent friendship of Rushbrook; it did not indeed appear so from any part of his late behaviour, but she was apprehensive for the fate of Matilda; she disliked him too, and therefore she suspected him. Near three weeks she had not now paid a visit to Lord Elmwood, and though to herself every visit was a pain, yet as Matilda took a delight in hearing of her father, what he said, what he did, what his attention seemed most employed on, and a thousand other circumstantial informations, in which Sandford would scorn to be half so particular, it was a deprivation to her, that Miss Woodley did not go oftener. Now too, the middle of November was come, and it was expected her father would soon quit his country seat.

Partly therefore to indulge her hapless companion, and partly because it was a duty, MissWoodley once again paid Lord Elmwood a morning visit, and staid dinner. Rushbrook was officiously polite (for that was the epithet she gave his attention in relating it to Lady Matilda), yet she owned he had not that forward impertinence she had formerly discovered in him, but appeared much more grave and sedate.

"But tell me of my father," said Matilda. "I was going, my dear-but don't be concerned-don't let it vex you."

"What? what?" cried Matilda, frightened by the preface.

"Why, on my observing that I thought Mr. Rushbrook looked paler than usual, and appeared not to be in perfect health (which was really the case), your father expressed the greatest anxiety imaginable; he said he could not bear to see him look so ill, begged him, with all the tenderness of a parent, to take the advice of a physician, and added a thousand other affectionate things."

"I detest Mr. Rushbrook," said Matilda, with her eyes flashing indignation.

"Nay, for shame!" returned Miss Woodley; "do you suppose I told you this to make you hate him?"

"No, there was no occasion for that," replied Matilda ; my sentiments (though I have never