ou."

"You might indeed think so, did you know how much I have pardoned."

"What was his offence, my Lord?"

"Such as I would not have forgiven you, or any earthly being besides
himself--but while you were speaking in his behalf, I recollected there
was a gratitude so extraordinary in the hazards he ran, that almost made
him pardonable."

"I guess the subject then," cried Sandford; and yet I could not have
supposed"----

"It is a subject we cannot speak on, Sandford, therefore let us drop
it."

At these words the discourse concluded.

CHAPTER IV.

To the relief of Rushbrook, Lord Elmwood that day dined from home, and
he had not the confusion to see him again till the evening. Previous to
this, Sandford and he met at dinner; but as the attendants were present,
nothing passed on either side respecting the incident in the morning.
Rushbrook, from the peril which had so lately threatened him, was now in
his perfectly cool, and dispassionate senses; and notwithstanding the
real tenderness which he bore to the daughter of his benefactor, he was
not insensible to the comfort of finding himself, once more in the
possession of all those enjoyments he had forfeited, and for a moment
lost.

As he reflected on this, to Sandford he felt the first tie of
acknowledgement--but for his compassion, he knew he should have been at
that very time of their meeting at dinner, away from Elmwood House for
ever; and bearing on his mind a still more painful recollection, the
burthen of his kind patron's continual displeasure. Filled with these
thoughts, all the time of dinner, he could scarce look at his companion,
without tears of gratitude; and whenever he attempted to speak to him,
gratitude choaked his utterance.

Sandford, on his part, behaved just the same as ever; and to show he did
not wish to remind Rushbrook of what he had done, he was just as uncivil
as ever.

Among other things, he said, "He did not know Lord Elmwood dined from
home, for if he had, he should have dined in his own apartment."

Rushbrook was still more obliged to him for all this; and the weight of
obligations with which he was oppressed, made him long for an
opportunity to relieve himself by expressions. As soon, therefore, as
the servants were all withdrawn, he began:

"Mr. Sandford, whatever has been your opinion of _me_, I take pride to
myself, that in my sentiments towards _you_, I have always distinguished
you for that humane, disinterest