Because," replied Sandford, "I went into your bed-chamber just now, and
I found your bed made. You have not slept there to-night."

"I have slept no where," returned he; "I could not sleep--and having some
papers to look over, and to set off early, I thought I might as well not
go to bed at all."

Miss Woodley was pleased at the frank manner in which he made this
confession, and could not resist the strong impulse to say, "You have
done just then, my Lord, like Miss Milner, for she has not been in bed
the whole night."

Miss Woodley spoke this in a negligent manner, and yet, Lord Elmwood
echoed back the words with solicitude, "Has not Miss Milner been in bed
the whole night?"

"If she is up, why does not she come and take some coffee?" said
Sandford, as he began to pour it out.

"If she thought it would be agreeable," returned Miss Woodley, "I dare
say she would." And she looked at Lord Elmwood while she spoke, though
she did not absolutely address him; but he made no reply.

"Agreeable!" returned Sandford, angrily--"Has she then a quarrel with any
body here? or does she suppose any body here bears enmity to _her?_ Is
she not in peace and charity?"

"Yes," replied Miss Woodley, "that I am sure she is."

"Then bring her hither," cried Sandford, "directly. Would she have the
wickedness to imagine we are not all friends with her?"

Miss Woodley left the room, and found Miss Milner almost in despair,
lest she should hear Lord Elmwood's carriage drive off before her
friend's return.

"Did he send for me?" were the words she uttered as soon as she saw her.

"Mr. Sandford did, in his presence," returned Miss Woodley, "and you may
go with the utmost decorum, or I would not tell you so."

She required no protestations of this, but readily followed her beloved
adviser, whose kindness never appeared in so amiable a light as at that
moment.

On entering the room, through all the dead white of her present
complection, she blushed to a crimson. Lord Elmwood rose from his seat,
and brought a chair for her to sit down.

Sandford looked at her inquisitively, sipped his tea, and said, "He
never made tea to his own liking."

Miss Milner took a cup, but had scarce strength to hold it.

It seemed but a very short time they were at breakfast, when the
carriage, that was to take Lord Elmwood away, drove to the door. Miss
Milner started at the sound--so did he--but she had nearly dropped her cup
and saucer; on which Sandfor