“Is it true that Lady Elmwood is dead?”
“It is, my Lord.”
His Lordship looked unusually grave, and at this reply, fetched an involuntary sigh.
“Mr. Sandford, my lord,” continued the steward, “sent me word of the news, but left it to my own discretion, whether I would make your Lordship acquainted with it or not: I let him know I declined.”
“Where is Sandford?” asked Lord Elmwood.
“He was with my Lady,” replied the steward.
“When she died?” asked he.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“I am glad of it—he will see that every thing she desired is done—Sandford is a good man, and would be a friend to every body.”
“He is a very good man indeed, my Lord.”