lution, my disposition, and take care how you
provoke me. You may do an injury to the very person you are seeking to
befriend--the very maintenance I mean to allow her daughter I can
withdraw."

Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with energy, "My
Lord, unless you begin the subject, I never shall presume to mention it
again."

"I take you at your word, and in consequence of that, but of that alone,
we are friends. Good night, Sir."

Sandford bowed with humility, and they went to their separate
bedchambers.

CHAPTER IV.

After Lord Elmwood had retired into his chamber, it was some time before
he read the letter Sandford had given him. He first walked backwards and
forwards in the room--he then began to take off some part of his dress,
but he did it slowly. At length, he dismissed his valet, and sitting
down, took the letter from his pocket. He looked at the seal, but not at
the direction; for he seemed to dread seeing Lady Elmwood's handwriting.
He then laid it on the table, and began again to undress. He did not
proceed, but taking up the letter quickly, (with a kind of effort in
making the resolution) broke it open. These were its contents:

"My Lord,

"Who writes this letter I well know--I well know also to whom it
is addressed--I feel with the most powerful force both our
situations; nor should I dare to offer you even this humble
petition, but that at the time you receive it, there will be no
such person as I am, in existence.

"For myself, then, all concern will be over--but there is a care
that pursues me to the grave, and threatens my want of repose
even there.

"I leave a child--I will not call her mine: that has undone
her--I will not call her yours; that will be of no avail--I
present her before you as the granddaughter of Mr. Milner. Oh! do
not refuse an asylum even in your own house, to the destitute
offspring of your friend; the last, and only remaining branch of
his family.

"Receive her into your household, be her condition there ever so
abject. I cannot write distinctly what I would--my senses are not
impaired, but the powers of expression are. The complaint of the
unfortunate child in the scriptures (a lesson I have studied) has
made this wish cling so fast to my heart, that without the
distant hope of its being fulfilled, death would have more
terrors than