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 take every particle of powder out of her hair, and have it curled all
over in falling ringlets. Her next care was, that her dress should
exactly fit, and 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
person; 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 then thus pleased
with my dress? for I had rather he should admire me than all the world
besides, and yet he is not to 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 for 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 learnt 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 brought up, 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 it, much less that she would persist, coolly and
deliberately, in so direct a contradiction to his will. She, for he