nteresting as this, ensued: the unexpected
arrival of Mr. Sandford, put an end to it. He started at the sight of
Lord Margrave; but the Viscount was much more affected at the sight of
him.

"My Lord," said Sandford boldly to him, "have you received any
encouragement from Lady Matilda to authorize this visit?"

"None, upon my honour, Mr. Sandford; but I hope you know how to pardon a
lover!"

"A rational one I do--but you, my Lord, are not of that class while you
persecute the pretended object of your affection."

"Do you call it persecution that I once offered her a share of my title
and fortune--and even now, declare my fortune is at her disposal?"

Sandford was uncertain whether he understood his meaning--but Lord
Margrave, provoked at his ill reception, felt a triumph in removing his
doubts, and proceeded thus:

"For the discarded daughter of Lord Elmwood, cannot expect the same
proposals, which I made, while she was acknowledged, and under the
protection of her father."

"What proposals then, my Lord?" asked Sandford hastily.

"Such," replied he, "as the Duke of Avon made to her mother."

Miss Woodley quitted the room that instant. But Sandford, who never felt
resentment but against those in whom he saw some virtue, calmly replied,

"My Lord, the Duke of Avon was a gentleman, a man of elegance and
breeding; and what have you to offer in recompense for your defects in
qualities like these?"

"My wealth," replied he, "opposed to her indigence." Sandford smiled,
and answered,

"Do you suppose _that_ wealth can be esteemed, which has not been able
to make you respectable? What is it makes wealth valuable? Is it the
pleasures of the table? the pleasure of living in a fine house? or of
wearing fine cloaths? These are pleasures, a Lord enjoys, but in common
with his valet. It is the pleasure of being conspicuous, which makes
riches desirable; but if we are conspicuous only for our vice and folly,
had we not better remain in poverty?"

"You are beneath my notice."

"I trust I shall continue so--and that your Lordship will never again
condescend to come where I am."

"A man of rank condescends to mix with any society, when a pretty woman
is the object."

"My Lord, I have a book here in my pocket, which I am eager to read; it
is an author who speaks sense and reason--will you pardon the impatience
I feel for such company; and permit me to call your carriage?"

Saying this, he went hastily and beckoned to