reflected upon it with the most inordinate delight; and had
he not seen decline of health, in the looks and behaviour of Lady
Matilda, his felicity had been unbounded. Entranced in the happiness of
her society, the thought of his rival never came once to his mind while
he was with her; a want of recollection, however, he by no means
regretted, as her whole appearance contradicted every suspicion he could
possibly entertain, that she favoured the addresses of any man
living--and had he remembered, he would not have dared to name the
subject.

The time ran so swiftly while he was away, that it was beyond the dinner
hour at Elmwood House, when he returned. Heated, his dress and his hair
disordered, he entered the dining room just as the dessert was put upon
the table. He was confounded at his own appearance, and at the
falsehoods he should be obliged to fabricate in his excuse: there was
yet, that which engaged his attention, beyond any circumstance relating
to himself--the features of Lord Elmwood--of which his daughter's, whom he
had just beheld, had the most striking resemblance; though her's were
softened by sorrow, while his were made austere by the self-same cause.

"Where have you been?" said his uncle, with a frown.

"A chace, my Lord--I beg your pardon--but a pack of dogs I
unexpectedly met." For in the hacknied art of lying without injury to
any one, Rushbrook, to his shame, was proficient.

His excuses were received, and the subject ceased.

During his absence that day, Lord Elmwood had called Sandford apart, and
said to him,--that as the malevolence which he once observed between him
and Rushbrook, had, he perceived, subsided, he advised him, if he was a
well-wisher to the young man, to sound his heart, and counsel him not to
act against the will of his nearest relation and friend. "I myself am
too hasty," continued Lord Elmwood, "and, unhappily, too much determined
upon what I have once (though, perhaps, rashly) said, to speak upon a
topic where it is probable I shall meet with opposition. You, Sandford,
can reason with moderation. For after all that I have done for my
nephew, it would be a pity to forsake him at last; and yet, that is but
too likely, if he provokes me."

"Sir," replied Sandford, "I will speak to him."

"Yet," added Lord Elmwood, sternly, "do not urge what you say for my
sake, but for his--I can part from him with ease--but he may then repent,
and, you know, repentance always comes too