“Agreeable!” returned Sandford, angrily—“Has she then a quarrel with any body here? or does she suppose any body here bears enmity to her? Is she not in peace and charity?”
“Yes,” replied Miss Woodley, “that I am sure she is.”
“Then bring her hither,” cried Sandford, “directly. Would she have the wickedness to imagine we are not all friends with her?”
Miss Woodley left the room, and found Miss Milner almost in despair, lest she should hear Lord Elmwood’s carriage drive off before her friend’s return.
“Did he send for me?” were the words she uttered as soon as she saw her.
“Mr. Sandford did, in his presence,” returned Miss Woodley, “and you may go with the utmost decorum, or I would not tell you so.”
She required no protestations of this, but readily followed her beloved adviser, whose kindness never appeared in so amiable a light as at that moment.
On entering the room, through all the dead white of her present complection, she blushed to a crimson. Lord Elmwood rose from his seat, and brought a chair for her to sit down.
Sandford looked at her inquisitively, sipped his tea, and said, “He never made tea to his own liking.”
Miss Milner took a cup, but had scarce strength to hold it.