She immediately saw who it was, and returned back with a proper pride, and yet a proper politeness in her manner.
“I beg your pardon, Sir,” said she, “I did not know you; I was afraid I intruded upon Miss Woodley and a stranger.”
“You do not then consider me as a stranger, Lady Matilda? and that you do not, requires my warmest acknowledgements.”
She sat down, as if overcome by ill spirits and ill health.
Miss Woodley now asked Rushbrook to sit—for till now she had not.
“No, Madam,” replied he, with confusion, “not unless Lady Matilda gives me permission.”
She smiled, and pointed to a chair—and all the kindness which Rushbrook during his whole life had received from Lord Elmwood, never inspired half the gratitude, which this one instance of civility from his daughter excited.
He sat down, with the confession of the obligation upon every feature of his face.
“I am not well, Mr. Rushbrook,” said Matilda, languidly; “and you must excuse any want of etiquette at this house.”
“While you excuse me, Madam, what can I have to complain of?”