the coachman; the carriage
drove up, the door was opened, and Lord Margrave, ashamed to be exposed
before his attendants, and convinced of the inutility of remaining any
longer where he was, departed.

Sandford was soon joined by the ladies; and the conversation falling, of
course, upon the nobleman who had just taken his leave, Sandford
unwarily exclaimed, "I wish Rushbrook had been here."

"Who?" cried Lady Matilda.

"I do believe," said Miss Woodley, "that young man has some good
qualities."

"A great many," returned Sandford, mutteringly.

"Happy young man!" cried Matilda: "he is beloved by all those, whose
affection it would be my choice to possess, beyond any other blessing
this world could bestow."

"And yet I question, if Rushbrook is happy," said Sandford.

"He cannot be otherwise," returned Matilda, "if he is a man of
understanding."

"He does not want understanding neither," replied Sandford; "although he
has certainly many indiscretions."

"But which Lord Elmwood, I suppose," said Matilda, "looks upon with
tenderness."

"Not upon all his faults," answered Sandford; "for I have seen him in
very dangerous circumstances with your father."

"Have you indeed?" cried Matilda: "then I pity him."

"And I believe," said Miss Woodley, "that from his heart, he
compassionates you. Now, Mr. Sandford," continued she, "though this is
the first time I ever heard you speak in his favour, (and I once thought
as indifferently of Mr. Rushbrook as you can do) yet now I will venture
to ask you, whether you do not think he wishes Lady Matilda much happier
than she is?"

"I have heard him say so," answered Sandford.

"It is a subject," returned Lady Matilda, "which I did not imagine you,
Mr. Sandford, would have permitted him to have mentioned lightly, in
your presence."

"Lightly! Do you suppose, my dear, we turned your situation into
ridicule?"

"No, Sir,--but there is a sort of humiliation in the grief to which I am
doomed, that ought surely to be treated with the highest degree of
delicacy by my friends."

"I don't know on what point you fix real delicacy; but if it consists in
sorrow, the young man gives a proof he possesses it, for he shed tears
when I last heard him mention your name."

"I have more cause to weep at the mention of his."

"Perhaps so.--But let me tell you, Lady Matilda, that your father might
have preferred a more unworthy object."

"Still had he been to me," she cried, "an object