It was not now till the evening, that Rushbrook had an opportunity of renewing the conversation, which had been so barbarously interrupted.
In the evening, no longer able to support the suspense into which he was thrown; without fear or shame, he followed Sandford into his chamber at the time of his retiring, and entreated of him, with all the anxiety he suffered, to explain his allusion when he talked of a lover, and of insolence to Lady Matilda.
Sandford, seeing his emotion, was angry with himself that he had inadvertently mentioned the subject; and putting on an air of surly importance, desired,—if he had any business with him, that he would call in the morning.
Exasperated at so unexpected a reception, and at the pain of his disappointment, Rushbrook replied, “He treated him cruelly, nor would he stir out of his room, till he had received a satisfactory answer to his question.”
“Then bring your bed,” replied Sandford, “for you must pass your whole night here.”
He found it vain to think of obtaining any intelligence by threats, he therefore said in a timid and persuasive manner,
“Did you, Mr. Sandford, hear Lady Matilda mention my name?”
“Yes,” replied Sandford, a little better reconciled to him.
“Did you tell her what I lately declared to you?” he asked with still more diffidence.
“No,” replied Sandford.