oodley?"

"Yes; it appeared on every feature except his lips; those he kept fast
closed, for fear Lord Elmwood should perceive it."

Miss Woodley, with all her minute intelligence, did not however acquaint
Matilda, that Rushbrook followed her to the window when the Earl was out
of the room, and Sandford half asleep at the other end of it, and
inquired respectfully but anxiously for _her_; adding, "It is my
concern for Lady Matilda which makes me thus indisposed: I suffer more
than she does; but I am not permitted to tell her so, nor can I hope,
Miss Woodley, you will." She replied, "You are right, Sir." Nor did she
reveal this conversation, while not a sentence that passed except that,
was omitted.

When Christmas arrived, Lord Elmwood had many convivial days at Elmwood
House, but Matilda was never mentioned by one of his guests, and most
probably was never thought of. During all those holidays, she was
unusually melancholy, but sunk into the deepest dejection when she was
told the day was fixed, on which her father was to return to town. On
the morning of that day she wept incessantly; and all her consolation
was, "She would go to the chamber window that was fronting the door
through which he was to pass to his carriage, and for the first time,
and most probably for the last time in her life, behold him."

This design was soon forgot in another:--"She would rush boldly into the
apartment where he was, and at his feet take leave of him for ever--she
would lay hold of his hands, clasp his knees, provoke him to spurn her,
which would be joy in comparison to this cruel indifference." In the
bitterness of her grief, she once called upon her mother, and reproached
her memory--but the moment she recollected this offence, (which was
almost instantaneously) she became all mildness and resignation. "What
have I said?" cried she; "Dear, dear saint, forgive me; and for your
sake I will bear all with patience--I will not groan, I will not even
sigh again--this task I set myself to atone for what I have dared to
utter."

While Lady Matilda laboured under this variety of sensations, Miss
Woodley was occupied in bewailing and endeavouring to calm her
sorrows--and Lord Elmwood, with Rushbrook, was ready to set off. The
Earl, however, loitered, and did not once seem in haste to be gone. When
at last he got up to depart, Sandford thought he pressed his hand, and
shook it with more warmth than ever he had done in his life. Encouraged