“No, Madam,” replied he, “but I unthinkingly spoke of my poor Lady who is dead and gone.”
Matilda burst into tears.
“How came you to do so mad a thing?” cried Sandford; and the encouragement which his looks had once given him, now fled from his face.
“It was unthinkingly,” repeated Edwards; “I was showing my Lord some plans for the new walks, and told him, among other things, that her Ladyship had many years ago approved of them. ‘Who?’ cried he. Still I did not call to mind, but said, ‘Lady Elmwood, Sir, while you were abroad.’—As soon as these words were delivered, I saw my doom in his looks, and he commanded me to quit his house and service that instant.”
“I am afraid,” said Sandford, shaking his head, “I can do nothing for you.”
“Yes, Sir, you know you have more power over my Lord than any body—and perhaps you may be able to save me and all mine from misery.”
“I would, if I could,” replied Sandford quickly.
“You can but try, Sir.”
Matilda was all this while bathed in tears; nor was Miss Woodley much less affected—Lady Elmwood was before their eyes—Matilda beheld her in her dying moments; Miss Woodley saw her as the gay ward of Dorriforth.
“Ask Mr. Rushbrook,” said Sandford, “prevail on him to speak for you; he has more power than I have.”