before avowed them) were long ago formed; he was always an object which added to my unhappiness; but since his daring intrusion into my apartments, he has been the object of my hatred."

"But now, perhaps, I may tell you something to please you," cried Miss Woodley.

"And what is that?" said Matilda, with indifference; for the first intelligence had hurt her spirits too much to suffer her to listen with pleasure to any thing.

"Mr. Rushbrook," continued Miss Woodley, "replied to your father, that his indisposition was but a slight nervous fever, and he would defer a physician's advice till he went to London-on which Lord Elmwood said, 'And when do you expect to be there?'-he replied, 'Within a week or two, I suppose, my lord.' But your father answered, 'I do not mean to go myself till after Christmas.'' No, indeed, my lord!' said Mr. Sandford, with surprise: 'you have not passed your Christmas here these many years.' 'No,' returned your father; but I think I feel myself more attached to this house at present than ever I did in my life.""

"You imagine, then, my father thought of me when he said this ?" cried Matilda eagerly.

"But I may be mistaken," replied Miss Woodley. "I leave you to judge. Though I am sure Mr. Sandford imagined he thought of you, for I saw a smile over his whole face immediately."

"Did you, Miss Woodley?"

"Yes; it appeared on every feature except his lips; those he kept fast closed, for fear Lord Elmwood should perceive it."

Miss Woodley, with all her minute intelligence, did not however acquaint Matilda, that Rushbrook followed her to the window when the earl was out of the room, and Sandford half asleep at the other end of it, and inquired respectfully but anxiously for her; adding, "It is my concern for Lady Matilda which makes me thus indisposed: I suffer more than she does; but I am not permitted to tell her so, nor can I hope, Miss Woodley, that you will." She replied, "You are right, sir." Nor did she reveal this conversation, while not a sentence that passed, except that, was omitted.

When Christmas arrived, Lord Elmwood had many convivial days at Elmwood House, but Matilda was never mentioned by one of his guests, and most probably was never thought of. During all those holidays, she was unusually melancholy, but sunk into the deepest dejection when she was told the day was fixed on which her father was to return to town. On the morning of that day she wept incessantly; and all her consolation was, "She would go to the chamber window that was fronting the door through which he was to pass to his carriage, and for the first time, and most probably for the last time in her life, behold him." This design was soon forgot in another: "She

would rush boldly into the apartment where he was, and at his feet take leave of him for ever-she would lay hold of his hands, clasp his knees, provoke him to spurn her, which would be joy in comparison to this cruel indifference." In the bitterness of her grief, she once called upon her mother, and reproached her memory-but the moment she recollected this offence, (which was al most instantaneously) she became all mildness. and resignation. "What have I said?" cried she; "Dear, dear, honoured saint, forgive me; and for your sake I will bear all I have to bear with patience--I will not groan, I will not even sigh again -this task I set myself to atone for what I have dared to utter."

While Lady Matilda laboured under this variety of sensations, Miss Woodley was occupied in bewailing and endeavouring to calm her sorrows -and Lord Elmwood, with Rushbrook, was ready to set off. The earl, however, loitered, and did not once seem in haste to be gone. When at last he got up to depart, Sandford thought he pressed his hand, and shook it with more warmth than ever he had done in his life. Encouraged by this supposition, Sandford said, "My lord, won't you condescend to take your leave of Miss Woodley?"-" Certainly, Sandford," replied he, and seemed glad of an excuse to sit down again.

Impressed with the pitiable state in which she had left his only child, Miss Woodley, when she came before Lord Elmwood to bid him farewell, was pale, trembling, and in tears.-Sandford, notwithstanding his patron's apparently kind humour, was alarmed at the construction he must put upon her appearance, and cried, "What, Miss Woodley, are you not recovered of your illness yet?" Lord Elmwood, however, took no notice of her looks, but after wishing her her health, walked slowly out of the house; turning back frequently and speaking to Sandford, or to some other person who was behind him, and he went with reluctance.

When he had quitted the room where Miss Woodley was, Rushbrook, timid before her, as she had been before her benefactor, went up to her, all humility, and said, "Miss Woodley, we ought to be friends: our concern, our devotion is paid to the same objects, and one common interest should teach us to be friendly."

She made no reply-"Will you permit me to write to you when I am away?" said he; "You may wish to hear of Lord Elmwood's health, and of what changes may take place in his resolutions-will you permit me?"-At that mo

ment a servant came and said, "Sir, my lord is in the carriage, and waiting for you." He hastened away, and Miss Woodley was relieved from the pain of giving him a denial.

No sooner was the travelling carriage, with all its attendants, out of sight, than Lady Matilda was conducted by Miss Woodley from her lonely retreat, into that part of the house from whence her father had just departed-and she visited every

spot where he had so long resided, with a pleasing curiosity, that for a while diverted her grief. In the breakfast and dining rooms, she leaned over those seats with a kind of filial piety, on which she was told he had been accustomed to sit. And, in the library, she took up with filial delight the pen with which he had been writing; and looked with the most curious attention into those books that were laid upon his reading desk. But a hat, lying on one of the tables, gave her a sensation beyond any other she experienced on this occasion-in that trifling article of his dress, she thought she saw himself, and held it in her hand with pious reverence.

In the mean time, Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook were proceeding on the road, with hearts not less heavy than those which they had left at Elmwood House; though neither of them could so well define the cause of this oppression, as Matilda could account for the weight which oppressed hers.

CHAPTER XL.

YOUNG as Lady Matilda was during the life of her mother, neither her youth, nor the recluse state in which she lived, had precluded her from the notice and solicitations of a nobleman who had professed himself her lover. Viscount Margrave had an estate not far distant from the retreat Lady Elmwood had chosen; and being devoted to the sports of the country, he seldom quitted it for any of those joys which the town offered. He was a young man, of a handsome person, and was, what his neighbours called "a man of spirit. He was an excellent fox hunter, and as excellent a companion over his bottle at the end of the chase-he was prodigal of his fortune, where his pleasures were concerned, and as those pleasures were chiefly social, his sporting companions and his mistresses (for these were also of the plural number) partook largely of his wealth.

Two months previous to Lady Elmwood's death, Miss Woodley and Lady Matilda were taking their usual walk in some fields and lanes near to their house. when chance threw Lord Margrave in their way during a thunder storm, in which they were suddenly caught; and he had the satisfaction to convey his new acquaintances to their home in his coach, safe from the fury of the elements. Grateful for the service he had rendered them, Miss Woodley and her charge permitted him to inquire occasionally after their health, and would sometimes see him. The story of Lady Elmwood was known to Lord Margrave, and as he beheld her daughter with a passion such as he had been unused to overcome, he indulged it with the probable hope, that on the death of the mother Lord Elmwood would receive his child, and perhaps accept him as his

son-in-law. Wedlock was not the plan which Lord Margrave had ever proposed to himself for happiness; but the excess of his love on this new occasion subdued all the resolutions he had formed against the married state; and not daring to hope for the consummation of his wishes by any other means, he suffered himself to look forward to marriage, as his only resource. No sooner was the long expected death of Lady Elmwood arrived, than he waited with impatience to hear that Lady Matilda was sent for and acknowledged by her father; for he meant to be the first to lay before Lord Elmwood his pretensions as a suitor, But those pretensions were founded on the vague hopes of a lover only; and Miss Woodley, to whom he first declared them, said every thing possible to convince him of their fallacy. As to the object of his passion, she was not only insensible, but wholly inattentive to all that was said to her on the subject;-Lady Elmwood died without ever being disturbed with it; for her daughter did not even remember his proposals so as to repeat them again, and Miss Woodley thought it prudent to conceal from her friend every new incident which might give her cause for new anxieties.

When Sandford and the ladies left the north and came to Elmwood House, so much were their thoughts employed with other affairs that Lord Margrave did not occupy a place; and during the whole time they had been at their new abode, they had never once heard of him. He had, nevertheless, his whole mind fixed upon Lady Matilda, and had placed spies in the neighbourhood to inform him of every circumstance relating to her situation. Having imbibed an aversion to matrimony, he heard with but little regret, that there was no prospect of her ever becoming her father's heir, while such an information gave him the hope of obtaining her upon the terms of a mercenary companion.

Lord Elmwood's departure to town forwarded this hope, and flattering himself that the humiliating state, in which Matilda must feel herself in the house of her father, might gladly induce her to take shelter under any other protection, he boldly advanced, as soon as the earl was gone, to make such overture as his wishes and his vanity told him could not be rejected.

Inquiring for Miss Woodley, he easily gained admittance; but at the sight of so much modesty and dignity in the person of Matilda, the appearance of so much good will, and yet such circumspection in her female friend, and charmed at the good sense and proper spirit which were always apparent in Sandford, he fell once more into the dread of never becoming to Lady Matilda any thing of more importance to his reputation than a husband.

Even that humble hope was sometimes denied him, while Sandford set forth the impropriety of troubling Lord Elmwood on such a subject at pre

sent; and while the Viscount's penetration, small

as

was, discovered in his fair one more to discourage than to favour his wishes. Plunged, however, too deep in his passion to emerge from it in haste, he meant still to visit, and to wait for a change to happier circumstances; when he was peremptorily desired, by Mr. Sandford, to desist from ever coming again.

"And why, Mr. Sandford ?" cried he.

"For two reasons, my lord ;-in the first place, your visits might be displeasing to Lord Elmwood; -in the next place, I know they are so to his daughter."

Unaccustomed to be addressed so plainly, particularly in a case where his heart was interested, he nevertheless submitted with patience; but, in his own mind, determined how long this patience should continue--no longer than it served as the means to prove his obedience, and by that artifice, to secure his better reception at some future period.

On his return home, cheered with the huzzas of his jovial companions, he began to consult those friends, what scheme was best to be adopted for the accomplishment of his desires. Some boldly advised application to the father in defiance to the old priest; but that was the very last method his lordship himself approved, as marriage must inevitably have followed Lord Elmwood's consent: besides, though a peer, Lord Margrave was unused to rank with peers; and even the formality of an interview with one of his equals carried along with it a terror, or at least a fatigue, to a rustic lord. Others of his companions advised seduction; but happily the viscount possessed no arts of this kind, to affect a heart joined with such an understanding as Matilda's. There were not wanting among his most favourite counsellors some who painted the superior triumph and gratification of force; those assured him there was nothing to apprehend under this head, as from the behaviour of Lord Elmwood to his child, it was more than probable, he would be utterly indifferent as to any violence that might be offered her. This last advice seemed inspired by the aid of wine; and no sooner had the wine freely circulated, than this was always the expedient which appeared by far the best.

While Lord Margrave alternately cherished his hopes and his fears in the country, Rushbrook in town gave way to his fears only. Every day of his life made him more acquainted with the firm unshaken temper of Lord Elmwood, and every day whispered more forcibly to him, that pity, gratitude, and friendship, strong and affectionate as these passions are, were weak and cold to that which had gained the possession of his heart--he doubted, but he did not long doubt, that, which he felt was love. "And yet," said he to himself, "it is love of such a kind as, arising from causes independent of the object itself, can scarce deserve that sacred name. Did I not love Lady Matilda before I beheld her? for her mother's sake I loved

her-and even for her father's. Should I have felt the same affection for her, had she been the child of other parents? No. Or should I have felt that sympathetic tenderness which now preys upon my health, had not her misfortunes excited it? No." Yet the love which is the result of gratitude and pity only, he thought, had little claim to rank with his; and after the most deliberate and deep reflection, he concluded with this decisive opinion -He should have loved Lady Matilda, in whatever state, in whatever circumstances; and that the tenderness he felt towards her, and the anxiety for her happiness before he knew her, extreme as they were, were yet cool and dispassionate sensations, compared to those which her person and demeanour had incited—and though he acknowledged that, by the preceding sentiments, his heart was softened, prepared, and moulded, as it were, to receive this last impression; yet the violence of his passion told him that genuine love, if not the basis on which it was founded, had been the certain consequence. With a strict scrutiny into his heart he sought this knowledge, but arrived at it with a regret that amounted to despair.

To shield him from despondency, he formed in his mind a thousand visions, displaying the joys of his union with Lady Matilda; but her father's implacability confounded them all. Lord Elmwood was a man who made few resolutions-but those were the effect of deliberation; and as he was not the least capricious or inconstant in his temper, they were resolutions which no probable event could shake. Love, which produces wonders, which seduces and subdues the most determined and rigid spirits, had in two instances overcome the inflexibility of Lord Elmwood; he married Lady Elmwood contrary to his determination, because he loved; and for the sake of this beloved object, he had, contrary to his resolution, taken under his immediate care young Rushbrook! but the magic which once enchanted away this spirit of immutability was no more-Lady Elmwood was no more, and the charm was broken.

As Miss Woodley was deprived of the opportunity of desiring Rushbrook not to write, when he asked her the permission, he passed one whole morning in the gratification of forming and writing a letter to her, which he thought might possibly be shown to Matilda. As he dared not touch upon any of those circumstances in which he was the most interested, this, joined to the respect he wished to pay the lady to whom he wrote, limited this letter to about twenty lines; yet the studious manner with which these lines were dictated, the hope that they might, and the fear that they might not, be seen and regarded by Lady Matilda, rendered the task an anxiety so pleasing that he could have wished it might have lasted for a year; and in this tendency to magnify trifles was discoverable the never failing symptom of ardent love.

A reply to this formal address was a reward he wished for with impatience, but he wished in vain ;

and in the midst of his chagrin at the disappointment, a sorrow, little thought of, occurred, and gave him a perturbation of mind he had never before experienced. Lord Elmwood proposed a wife to him; and in a way so assured of his acquiescence, that if Rushbrook's life had depended upon his daring to dispute his benefactor's will, he would not have had the courage to have done so. There was, however, in his reply and his embarrassment something which his uncle distinguished from a free concurrence; and looking steadfastly at him, he said, in that stern manner which he now almost invariably assumed,

"You have no engagements, I suppose? Have made no previous promises?"

"None on earth, my lord,” replied Rushbrook candidly.

"Nor have you disposed of your heart?"

"No, my lord," replied he; but not candidlynor with any appearance of candour: for though he spoke hastily, it was rather like a man frightened than assured. He hurried to tell the falsehood he thought himself obliged to tell, that the pain and shame might be over; but there he was deceived-the lie once told was more troublesome than in the conception, and added another confusion to the first.

Lord Elmwood now fixed his eyes upon him with a sullen scorn, and rising from his chair, said, "Rushbrook, if you have been so inconsiderate as to give away your heart, tell me so at once, and tell me the object."

Rushbrook shuddered at the thought.

"I here," continued the earl, "tolerate the first untruth you ever told me, as the false assertion of a lover; and give you an opportunity of recalling it but after this moment, it is a lie between man and man-a lie to your friend and father, and I will not forgive it."

Rushbrook stood silent, confused, alarmed, and bewildered in his thoughts,-Lord Elmwood proceeded :

"Name the person, if there is any, on whom you have bestowed your heart; and though I do not give you the hope that I shall not censure your folly, I will at least not reproach you for having at first denied it."

To repeat these words in writing, the reader must condemn the young man that he could hesitate to own he loved, if he was even afraid to name the object of his passion; but his interrogator had made the two answers inseparable, so that all evasions of the second, Rushbrook knew, would be fruitless, after having avowed the first-and how could he confess the latter? The absolute orders he received from the steward, on his first return from his travels, were, "Never to mention his daughter, any more than his late wife, before Lord Elmwood." The fault of having rudely intruded into Lady Matilda's presence rushed also upon his mind; for he did not even dare to say, by what means he had beheld her. But more than

all, the threatening manner in which this rational and apparently conciliating speech was uttered, the menaces, the severity which sat upon the earl's countenance while he delivered those moderate words, might have intimidated a man wholly independent, and less used to fear him than his nephew had been.

"You make no answer, sir," said Lord Elmwood, after waiting a few moments for his reply.

"I have only to say, my lord," returned Rushbrook, "that although my heart may be totally disengaged, I may yet be disinclined to marriage."

"May! May! Your heart may be disengaged," repeated he. "Do you dare to reply to me equivocally, when I asked a positive answer ?"

"Perhaps I am not positive myself, my lord ; but I will inquire into the state of my mind, and make you acquainted with it very soon."

As the angry demeanour of his uncle affected Rushbrook with fear, so that fear, powerfully (but with proper manliness) expressed, again softened the displeasure of lord Elmwood; and seeing and pitying his nephew's sensibility, he now changed his austere voice, and said mildly, but firmly :

"I give you a week to consult with yourself; at the expiration of that time I shall talk with you again, and I command you to be then prepared to speak, not only without deceit, but without hesitation." He left the room at these words, and left Rushbrook released from a fate, which his apprehensions had beheld impending that moment.

He had now a week to call his thoughts together, to weigh every circumstance, and to determine whether implicitly to submit to Lord Elmwood's recommendation of a wife, or to revolt from it, and see another, with more subserviency to his will, appointed his heir.

Undetermined how to act upon this trial which was to decide his future destiny, Rushbrook suffered so poignant an uncertainty that he became at length ill, and before the end of the week that was allotted him for his reply, he was confined to his bed in a high fever. Lord Elmwood was extremely affected at his indisposition; he gave him every care he could bestow, and even much of his personal attendance. This last favour had a claim upon the young man's gratitude, superior to every other obligation which since his infancy his benefactor had conferred; and he was at times so moved by those marks of kindness he received, that he would form the intention of tearing from his heart every trace that Lady Matilda had left there, and as soon as his health would permit him, obey, to the utmost of his views, every wish his uncle had conceived. Yet again, her pitiable situation presented itself to his compassion, and her beauteous person to his love. Divided beteween the claims of obligation to the father, and tender attachment to the daughter, his illness was increased by the tortures of his mind, and he once

for the answer, by his raising himself upon his elbow in the bed and staring wildly, Lord Elmwood at last said, "Certainly-Yes, Yes," as a child is answered for its quiet.

That Lord Elmwood could have no suspicion what the real petition was, which Rushbrook meant to present him, is certain; but it is certain he expected he had some request to make, with which it might be wrong for him to comply, and therefore he now avoided hearing what it was; for great as his compassion for him was in his present state, it was not of sufficient force to urge him to give a promise he did not mean to perform. Rushbrook, on his part, was pleased with the assurance he might speak when he was restored to health; but no sooner was his fever abated, and his senses perfectly recovered from the derangement his malady had occasioned, than the lively remembrance of what he had hinted alarmed him, and he was abashed to look his kind, but awful relation in the face. Lord Elmwood's cheerfulness, however, on his returning health, and his undiminished attention, soon convinced him that he had nothing to fear. But, alas! he found too, that he had nothing to hope. As his health re-established, his wishes re-established also, and with his wishes, his despair.

Convinced by what had passed, that his nephew had something on his mind which he feared to reveal, the earl no longer doubted but that some youthful attachment had armed him against any marriage he should propose; but he had so much pity for his present weak state, as to delay that further inquiry which he had threatened before his illness, to a time when his health should be entirely restored.

It was at the end of May before Rushbrook was able to partake in the usual routine of the day-the country was now prescribed him as the means of complete restoration; and as Lord Elmwood designed to leave London some time in

June, he advised him to go to Elmwood house a week or two before him;-this advice was received with delight, and a letter was sent to Mr. Sandford to prepare for Mr. Rushbrook's arrival.

CHAPTER XLI.

DURING the illness of Rushbrook, news had been sent of his danger, from the servants in town to those at Elmwood house, and Lady Matilda expressed compassion when she was told of it ;-she began to conceive, the instant she thought he would soon die, that his visit to her had merit rather than impertinence in its design, and that he might possibly be a more deserving man than she had supposed him to be. Even Sandford and Miss Woodley began to recollect qualifications he possessed, which they never had reflected on before; and Miss Woodley, in particular, reproached herself that she had been so severe and inattentive to him. Notwithstanding the prospects his death pointed out to her, it was with infinite joy she heard he was recovered; nor was Sandford less satisfied; for he had treated the young man too unkindly not to dread, lest any ill should befall him. But although he was glad to hear of his restored health; when he was informed he was coming down to Elmwood house for a few weeks in the style of its master, Sandford, with all his religious and humane principles, could not help conceiving, "that if the youth had been properly prepared to die, he had been as well out of the world as in it."

He was still less his friend when he saw him arrive with his usual florid complexion: had he come pale and sickly, Sandford had been kind to him; but in apparently good health and spirits, he could not form his lips to tell him he was "glad to see him."

On his arrival, Matilda, who for five months had been at large, secluded herself as she would have done upon the arrival of Lord Elmwood; but with far different sensations. Notwithstanding her restriction on the latter occasion, the residence of her father in that house had been a source of pleasure rather than of sorrow to her; but from the abode of Rushbrook she derived punishment alone.

When, from inquiries, Rushbrook found that on his approach, Matilda had retired to her own confined apartments, the thought was torture to him; it was the hope of seeing and conversing with her, of being admitted at all times to her society as the mistress of the house, that had raised his spirits, and effected his perfect cure beyond any other cause ; and he was hurt to the greatest degree at this respect, or rather contempt, shown to him by her retreat.

It was nevertheless, a subject too delicate for him to touch upon in any sense an invitation