“Insult me as you please, Mr. Rushbrook,—but beware how you mention Lord Elmwood’s daughter.”
“Can it be to her dishonour that I pity her? that I would quit the house this moment never to return, so that she supplied the place I with-hold from her.”
“Go, then;” cried Sandford.
“It would be of no use to her, or I would. But come, Mr. Sandford, I will dare do as much as you. Only second me, and I will entreat Lord Elmwood to be reconciled—to see and own her.”
“Your vanity would be equal to your temerity—you entreat? She must greatly esteem those paternal favours which your entreaties gained her! Do you forget, young man, how short a time it is, since you were entreated for?”
“I prove that I do not, while this anxiety for Lady Matilda, arises, from what I feel on that account.”
“Remove your anxiety, then, from her to yourself; for were I to let Lord Elmwood know what has now passed”—
“It is for your own sake, not for mine, if you do not.”
“You shall not dare me to it, Mr. Rushbrook.” And he rose from his seat: “You shall not dare me to do you an injury. But to avoid the temptation, I will never again come into your company, unless my friend, Lord Elmwood, be present, to protect me and his child from your insults.”
Rushbrook rose in yet more warmth than Sandford