He made no reply.
“That is a habit,” continued she, “which covers a multitude of faults—and, for that evening, I may have the chance of making a conquest even of you—nay, I question not, if under that inviting attire, even the pious Mr. Sandford would not ogle me.”
“Hush!” said Miss Woodley.
“Why hush?” cried Miss Milner, aloud, though Miss Woodley had spoken in a whisper, “I am sure,” continued she, “I am only repeating what I have read in books about nuns and their confessors.”
“Your conduct, Miss Milner,” replied Lord Elmwood “gives evident proofs of the authors you have read; you may spare yourself the trouble of quoting them.”
Her pride was hurt at this, beyond bearing; and as she could not, like him, govern her anger, it flushed in her face, and almost forced her into tears.
“My Lord,” said Miss Woodley, (in a tone so soft and peaceful, that it should have calmed the resentment of both,) “my Lord, suppose you were to accompany Miss Milner? there are tickets for three, and you can then have no objection.”
Miss Milner’s brow was immediately smoothed; and she fetched a sigh, in anxious expectation that he would consent.
“I go, Miss Woodley?” he replied, with astonishment, “Do you imagine I would play the buffoon at a masquerade?”
Miss Milner’s face changed into its former state.