Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, “What those two reasons were?”
“First,” said he, “because I think it is a relick you may like to preserve—my second reason is, that you may shew it to her daughter, and let her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother’s request.”
“You do then grant it?” cried Sandford joyfully; “I thank you—you are kind—you are considerate.”
“Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to recall it.”
“I know what you have said;” replied Sandford, “you have said you grant Lady Elmwood’s request—you cannot recall these words, nor I my gratitude.”
“Do you know what her request is?” returned he.
“Not exactly, my Lord—I told you before, I did not; but it is no doubt something in favour of her child.”
“I think not,” he replied: “such as it is, however, I grant it: but in the strictest sense of the word—no farther—and one neglect of my commands, releases me from this promise totally.”
“We will take care, Sir, not to disobey them.”
“Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge of delivering them again. Lady Elmwood has petitioned me in the name of her father, (a name I reverence) to give his grandchild the sanction of my protection. In the literal sense, to suffer that she may reside at one of my seats; dispensing at the same time with my ever seeing her.”