“No, my Lord—she expressed no such desire; and as that was the case, I did not think it necessary to carry the corpse so far.”
At the word corpse, Lord Elmwood shrunk, and looked shocked beyond measure—but recovering himself, said, “I am sorry for it; for he loved her sincerely, if she did not love him—and I wish they had been buried together.”
“It is not then too late,” said Sandford, and was going on—but the other interrupted him.
“No, no—we will have no disturbing the dead.”
“Read her letter then,” said Sandford, “and bid her rest in peace.”
“If it is in my power,” returned he, “to grant what she asks, I will—but if her demand is what I apprehend, I cannot, I will not, bid her rest by complying. You know my resolution, my disposition, and take care how you provoke me. You may do an injury to the very person you are seeking to befriend—the very maintenance I mean to allow her daughter I can withdraw.”
Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with energy, “My Lord, unless you begin the subject, I never shall presume to mention it again.”
“I take you at your word, and in consequence of that, but of that alone, we are friends. Good night, Sir.”
Sandford bowed with humility, and they went to their separate bedchambers.