had pleaded for Sir Edward and Lord Frederick; thus at once
destroying all those plans of happiness which poor Miss Milner had
formed.

In consequence, her melancholy humour was now predominant; she confined
herself at home, and yet, by her own order, was denied to all her
visitors. Whether this arose from pure melancholy, or the still
lingering hope of making her conquest, by that sedateness of manners
which she knew her guardian admired, she herself perhaps did not
perfectly know. Be that as it may, Lord Elmwood could not but observe
this change, and one morning thought fit to mention, and to applaud it.

Miss Woodley and she were at work together when he came into the room;
and after sitting several minutes, and talking upon indifferent
subjects, to which his ward replied with a dejection in her voice and
manner--he said,

"Perhaps I am wrong, Miss Milner, but I have observed that you are
lately more thoughtful than usual."

She blushed, as she always did when the subject was herself. He
continued, "Your health appears perfectly restored, and yet I have
observed you take no delight in your former amusements."

"Are you sorry for that, my Lord?"

"No, I am extremely glad; and I was going to congratulate you upon the
change. But give me leave to enquire, to what lucky accident we may
attribute this alteration?"

"Your Lordship then thinks all my commendable deeds arise from accident,
and that I have no virtues of my own."

"Pardon me, I think you have many." This he spoke emphatically; and her
blushes increased.

He resumed--"How can I doubt of a lady's virtues, when her countenance
gives me such evident proofs of them? Believe me, Miss Milner, that in
the midst of your gayest follies, while you thus continue to blush, I
shall reverence your internal sensations."

"Oh! my Lord, did you know some of them, I am afraid you would think
them unpardonable."

This was so much to the purpose, that Miss Woodley found herself
alarmed--but without reason--Miss Milner loved too sincerely to reveal it
to the object. He answered,

"And did you know some of mine, you might think them _equally_
unpardonable."

She turned pale, and could no longer guide her needle--in the fond
transport of her heart she imagined that his love for her, was among the
sensations to which he alluded. She was too much embarrassed to reply,
and he continued,

"We have all much to pardon in one another: and I know not whether the
officiou