us undisguised, even to you, my open--no, even worse--my secret
enemy!"

"Insult _me_ as you please, Mr. Rushbrook,--but beware how you mention
Lord Elmwood's daughter."

"Can it be to her dishonour that I pity her? that I would quit the house
this moment never to return, so that she supplied the place I with-hold
from her."

"Go, then;" cried Sandford.

"It would be of no use to her, or I would. But come, Mr. Sandford, I
will dare do as much as you. Only second me, and I will entreat Lord
Elmwood to be reconciled--to see and own her."

"Your vanity would be equal to your temerity--_you_ entreat? She must
greatly esteem those paternal favours which _your_ entreaties gained
her! Do you forget, young man, how short a time it is, since you were
_entreated for?_"

"I prove that I do not, while this anxiety for Lady Matilda, arises,
from what I feel on that account."

"Remove your anxiety, then, from her to yourself; for were I to let Lord
Elmwood know what has now passed"--

"It is for your own sake, not for mine, if you do not."

"You shall not dare me to it, Mr. Rushbrook." And he rose from his seat:
"You shall not dare me to do you an injury. But to avoid the temptation,
I will never again come into your company, unless my friend, Lord
Elmwood, be present, to protect me and his child from your insults."

Rushbrook rose in yet more warmth than Sandford

"Have you the injustice to say that I have insulted Lady Matilda?"

"To speak of her at all, is in you an insult. But you have done more--you
have dared to visit her--to force into her presence and shock her with
your offers of services which she scorns; and with your compassion,
which she is above."

"Did she complain to you?"

"She or her friend did."

"I rather suppose, Mr. Sandford, that you have bribed some of the
servants to reveal this."

"The suspicion becomes Lord Elmwood's heir."

"It becomes the man, who lives in a house with you."

"I thank you, Mr. Rushbrook, for what has passed this day--it has taken a
weight off my mind. I thought my disinclination to you, might perhaps
arise from prejudice--this conversation has relieved me from those fears,
and--I thank you." Saying this he calmly walked out of the room, and left
Rushbrook to reflect on what he had been doing.

Heated with the wine he had drank (and which Sandford, engaged on his
book, had not observed) no sooner was he alone, than he became by
degrees cool and repentant. "What had