od a morning visit,
and staid dinner. Rushbrook was officiously polite, (for that was the
epithet she gave his attention in relating it to Lady Matilda) yet she
owned he had not that forward impertinence she had formerly discovered
in him, but appeared much more grave and sedate.

"But tell me of my father," said Matilda.

"I was going, my dear--but don't be concerned--don't let it vex you."

"What? what?" cried Matilda, frightened by the preface.

"Why, on my observing that I thought Mr. Rushbrook looked paler than
usual, and appeared not to be in perfect health, (which was really the
case) your father expressed the greatest anxiety imaginable; he said he
could not bear to see him look so ill, begged him, with all the
tenderness of a parent, to take the advice of a physician, and added a
thousand other affectionate things."

"I detest Mr. Rushbrook," said Matilda, with her eyes flashing
indignation.

"Nay, for shame," returned Miss Woodley; "do you suppose I told you
this, to make you hate him?"

"No, there was no occasion for that," replied Matilda; "my sentiments
(though I have never before avowed them) were long ago formed; he was
always an object which added to my unhappiness; but since his daring
intrusion into my apartments, he has been an object of my hatred."

"But now, perhaps, I may tell you something to please you," cried Miss
Woodley.

"And what is that?" said Matilda, with indifference; for the first
intelligence had hurt her spirits too much to suffer her to listen with
pleasure to anything.

"Mr. Rushbrook," continued Miss Woodley, "replied to your father, that
his indisposition was but a slight nervous fever, and he would defer a
physician's advice till he went to London"--on which Lord Elmwood said,
"And when do you expect to be there?"--he replied, "Within a week or two,
I suppose, my Lord." But your father answered, "I do not mean to go
myself till after Christmas." "No indeed, my Lord!" said Mr. Sandford,
with surprise: "you have not passed your Christmas here these many
years." "No," returned your father; "but I think I feel myself more
attached to this house at present, than ever I did in my life."

"You imagine, then, my father thought of me, when he said this?" cried
Matilda eagerly.

"But I may be mistaken," replied Miss Woodley. "I leave you to judge.
Though I am sure Mr. Sandford imagined he thought of you, for I saw a
smile over his whole face immediately."

"Did you, Miss W