t till you are forced away. But I'll not stay to be driven hence--for
it is impossible your father will suffer any friend of yours to continue
here, after this disobedience. Adieu."

"I'll go this moment," said she, and rose hastily.

Miss Woodley took her at her word, and hurried her immediately out of
the room.

Sandford followed slow behind, as if he had followed at her funeral.

When she came to that spot on the stairs where she had met her father,
she started back, and scarce knew how to pass it. When she had--"There he
held me in his arms," said she, "and I thought I felt him press me to
his heart, but I now find I was mistaken."

As Sandford came forward, to hand her into the coach, "Now you behave
well;" said he, "by this behaviour, you do not entirely close all
prospect of reconciliation with your father."

"Do you think it is not yet impossible?" cried she, clasping his hand.
"Giffard says he loves me," continued she, "and do you think he might
yet be brought to forgive me?"

"Forgive you!" cried Sandford.

"Suppose I was to write to him, and entreat his forgiveness?"

"Do not write yet," said Sandford, with no cheering accent.

The carriage drove off--and as it went, Matilda leaned her head from the
window, to survey Elmwood House from the roof to the bottom. She cast
her eyes upon the gardens too--upon the fish ponds--even the coach houses,
and all the offices adjoining--which, as objects that she should never
see again--she contemplated, as objects of importance.

CHAPTER II.

Rushbrook, who, at twenty miles distance, could have no conjecture what
had passed at Elmwood House, during the short visit Lord Elmwood made
there, went that way with his dogs and gun in order to meet him on his
return, and accompany him in the chaise back--he did so--and getting into
the carriage, told him eagerly the sport he had had during the day;
laughed at an accident that had befallen one of his dogs; and for some
time did not perceive but that his uncle was perfectly attentive. At
length, observing he answered more negligently than usual to what he
said, Rushbrook turned his eyes quickly upon him, and cried,

"My Lord, are you not well?"

"Yes; perfectly well, I thank you, Rushbrook," and he leaned back
against the carriage.

"I thought, Sir," returned Rushbrook, "you spoke languidly--I beg your
pardon."

"I have the head-ache a little," answered he:--then taking off his hat,
brushed the powder fro