and
implored the return of his affection and tenderness, as the only means
to save his once-beloved ward from an untimely death. But her
understanding--her knowledge of his firm and immoveable temper; and of
all his provocations--her knowledge of his word, long since given to
Sandford, "That if once resolved, he would not recall his
resolution"--the certainty of the various plans arranged for his travels,
all convinced her, that by any interference, she would only expose Miss
Milner's love and delicacy, to a contemptuous rejection.

If the conversation did not every day turn upon the subject of Lord
Elmwood's departure--a conversation he evidently avoided himself--yet,
every day, some new preparation for his journey, struck either the ear
or the eye of Miss Milner--and had she beheld a frightful spectre, she
could not have shuddered with more horror, than when she unexpectedly
passed his large trunks in the hall, nailed and corded, ready to be sent
off to meet him at Venice. At the sight, she flew from the company that
chanced to be with her, and stole to the first lonely corner of the
house to conceal her tears--she reclined her head upon her hands, and
bedewed them with the sudden anguish, that had overcome her. She heard
a footstep advancing towards the spot where she hoped to have been
concealed; she lifted up her eyes, and saw Lord Elmwood. Pride, was the
first emotion his presence inspired--pride, which arose from the humility
into which she was plunged.

She looked at him earnestly, as if to imply, "What now, my Lord?"

He only answered with a bow, which expressed; "I beg your pardon." And
immediately withdrew.

Thus each understood the other's language, without either having uttered
a word.

The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour upon this
occasion, kept up her spirits for some little time; and she blessed
heaven, repeatedly, for the singular favour of shewing to her, clearly,
by this accident, his negligence of her sorrows, his total indifference.

The next day was the eve of that on which he was to depart--of the day on
which she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth, to her guardian, to Lord
Elmwood; to all her hopes at once.

The moment she awoke on Monday morning, the recollection, that this was,
perhaps, the last day she was ever again to see him, softened all the
resentment his yesterday's conduct had raised: forgetting his austerity,
and all she had once termed cruelties, she now on