st saw him) all her
intentions, all her meditated plans how to conduct herself on such an
occasion, gave way to a sudden shock--and to make the meeting yet more
distressing, her very fright, she knew, would serve to recall more
powerfully to his mind, the subject she most wished him to forget. The
steward was with him, and as they came up close by her side, Giffard
observing him look at her earnestly, said softly, but so as she heard
him, "My Lord, it is Miss Woodley." Lord Elmwood took off his hat
instantly--and, with an apparent friendly warmth, laying hold of her
hand, he said, "Indeed, Miss Woodley, I did not know you--I am very glad
to see you:" and while he spoke, shook her hand with a cordiality which
her tender heart could not bear--and never did she feel so hard a
struggle as to restrain her tears. But the thought of Matilda's fate--the
idea of awakening in his mind a sentiment that might irritate him
against his child, wrought more forcibly than every other effort; and
though she could not reply distinctly, she replied without weeping.
Whether he saw her embarrassment, and wished to release her from it, or
was in haste to conceal his own, he left her almost instantly: but not
till he had entreated she would dine that very day with him and Mr.
Sandford, who were to dine without other company. She curtsied assent,
and flew to tell Matilda what had occurred. After listening with anxiety
and with joy to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand which she
said Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with love and
reverence.

When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner, Sandford, (who had not
seen her since the invitation, and did not know of it) looked amazed; on
which Lord Elmwood said, "Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley this
morning, and had it not been for Giffard, I should have passed her
without knowing her--but Miss Woodley, if I am not so much altered but
that you knew me, I take it unkind you did not speak first." She was
unable to speak even now--he saw it, and changed the conversation; when
Sandford eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain
of the former.

As they advanced in their dinner, the embarrassment of Miss Woodley and
of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord Elmwood in his turn became, not
embarrassed, but absent and melancholy. He now and then sighed
heavily--and called for wine much oftener than he was accustomed.

When Miss Woodley took her leave, he inv