“Nay, she will be awake, I have no doubt;” returned her niece.
“No;” replied Miss Milner, “since Lord Elmwood has thought proper to take his leave of me, without even speaking a word; by my own design, never will I see him again.” And her tears burst forth, as if her heart burst at the same time.
“Why did not you speak to him?” cried Sandford—“Pray did you bid him farewell? and I don’t see why one is not as much to be blamed, in that respect, as the other.”
“I was too weak to say I wished him happy,” cried Miss Milner; “but, Heaven is my witness, I do wish him so from my soul.”
“And do you imagine he does not wish you so?” cried Sandford. “You should judge him by your own heart; and what you feel for him, imagine he feels for you, my dear.”
Though “my dear” is a trivial phrase, yet from certain people, and upon certain occasions, it is a phrase of infinite comfort and assurance. Mr. Sandford seldom said “my dear” to any one; to Miss Milner never; and upon this occasion, and from him, it was an expression most precious.
She turned to him with a look of gratitude; but as she only looked, and did not speak, he rose up, and soon after said, with a friendly tone he had seldom used in her presence, “I sincerely wish you a good night.”
As soon as he was gone, Miss Milner exclaimed, “However my fate may have been precipitated by the unkindness of Mr. Sandford, yet, for that particle of concern which he has shown for me this night, I will always be grateful to him.”
“Ay,” cried Mrs. Horton, “good Mr. Sandford may show his kindness now, without any danger from its consequences. Now Lord Elmwood is going away for ever, he is not afraid of your seeing him once again.” And she thought she praised him by this suggestion.