“No, Madam, my Lord has been at home ever since you went out; and has been sitting up with Mr. Sandford, waiting for you.”
She was wide awake immediately. The heaviness was removed from her eyes, but fear, grief, and shame, seized upon her heart. She leaned against her maid, as if unable to support herself under those feelings, and said to Miss Woodley,
“Make my excuse—I cannot see him to-night—I am unfit—indeed I cannot.”
Miss Woodley was alarmed at the idea of going to him by herself, and thus, perhaps, irritating him still more: she, therefore, said, “He has sent for you; for heaven’s sake, do not disobey him a second time.”
“No, dear Madam, don’t,” cried her woman, “for he is like a lion—he has been scolding me.”
“Good God!” (exclaimed Miss Milner, and in a tone that seemed prophetic) “Then he is not to be my husband, after all.”
“Yes,” cried Miss Woodley, “if you will only be humble, and appear sorry. You know your power over him, and all may yet be well.”
She turned her speaking eyes upon her friend, the tears starting from them, her lips trembling—“Do I not appear sorry?” she cried.
The bell at that moment rang furiously, and they hastened their steps to the door of the apartment where Lord Elmwood was.
“No, this shuddering is only fright,” replied Miss Woodley—“Say to him you are sorry, and beg his pardon.”