es, and she hoped most fervently, the
terms of the letter might not be harsh, but that Lord Elmwood had
delivered his commands in gentle language. The event proved he had; and
lost to every important comfort, she felt grateful to him for this small
one.

Matilda, too, was cheered by this letter, for she expected something
worse; and the last line, in which Giffard said he knew "His Lordship
loved her," she thought repaid her for the purport of the other part.

Sandford was not so easily resigned or comforted--he walked about the
room when the letter was shewn to him--called it cruel--stifled his tears,
and wished to show his resentment only--but the former burst through all
his endeavours, and he sunk into grief.

Nor was the fortitude of Matilda, which came to her assistance on the
first onset of this trial, sufficient to arm her, when the moment came
she was to quit the house--her father's house--never to see that, or him
again.

When word was brought that the carriage was at the door, which was to
convey her from all she held so dear, and she saw before her the
prospect of a long youthful and healthful life, in which misery and
despair were all she could discern; that despair seized her at once, and
gaining courage from it, she cried,

"What have I to fear if I disobey my father's commands once more?--he
cannot use me worse. I'll stay here till he returns--again throw myself
in his way, and then I will not faint, but plead for mercy. Perhaps were
I to kneel to him--kneel, like other children to their parents, and beg
his blessing, he would not refuse it me."

"You must not try:" said Sandford, mildly.

"Who," cried she, "shall prevent me flying to my father? Have I another
friend on earth? Have I one relation in the world but him? This is the
second time I have been turned out of his house. In my infant state my
cruel father turned me out; but then, he sent me to a mother--now I have
none; and I will stay with him."

Again the steward sent to let them know the coach was waiting.

Sandford, now, with a determined countenance, went coolly up to Lady
Matilda, and taking her hand, seemed resolved to lead her to the
carriage.

Accustomed to be awed by every serious look of his, she yet resisted
this; and cried, "Would _you_ be the minister of my father's cruelty?"

"Then," said Sandford solemnly to her, "farewell--from this moment you
and I part. I will take my leave, and do you remain where you are--at
leas