“And what recompense would his kind thoughts be to you,” said Sandford, “were he to turn you out to beggary?”
“A great deal—a great deal,” she replied.
“But how are you to know he has these kind thoughts, if he gives you no proof of them?”
“No, Mr. Sandford; but supposing we could know them without proof.”
“But as that is impossible,” answered he, “I shall suppose, till proof appears, that I have been mistaken in my conjectures.”
Matilda looked deeply concerned that the argument should conclude in her disappointment; for to have believed herself thought of with tenderness by her father, would have alone constituted her happiness.
When the servant came up with something by way of supper, he told Mr. Sandford that his Lord was returned from his walk and had enquired for him; Sandford immediately bade his companions good night, and left them.
“How strange is this!” cried Matilda, when Miss Woodley and she were alone, “My father within a few rooms of me, and yet I am debarred from seeing him! Only by walking a few paces I could be at his feet, and perhaps receive his blessing!”
“You make me shudder,” cried Miss Woodley; “but some spirits less timid than mine, might perhaps advise you to the experiment.”
“Not for worlds!” returned Matilda, “no counsel could tempt me to such temerity—and yet to entertain the thought that it is possible I could do this, is a source of infinite comfort.”