“Yes,” said Matilda, raising her head, “I am frequently so weak that I cannot resist the smallest incitement to grief. But do not make your visit long, Mr. Rushbrook,” she continued, “for I was just then thinking, that should Lord Elmwood hear of this attention you have paid me, it might be fatal to you.” Here she wept again, as bitterly as before.
“There is no probability of his hearing of it, Madam,” Rushbrook replied; “or if there was, I am persuaded that he would not resent it; for yesterday, when I am confident he knew that Mr. Sandford had been to see you, he received him on his return, with unusual marks of kindness.”
“Did he?” said she—and again she lifted up her head; her eyes for a moment beaming with hope and joy.
“There is something which we cannot yet define,” said Rushbrook, “that Lord Elmwood struggles with; but when time shall have eradicated”——
Before he could proceed further, Matilda was once more sunk into despondency, and scarce attended to what he was saying.
Miss Woodley observing this, said, “Mr. Rushbrook, let it be a token we shall be glad to see you hereafter, that I now use the freedom to beg you will put an end to your visit.”
“You send me away, Madam,” returned he, “with the warmest thanks for the reception you have give me; and this last assurance of your kindness, is beyond any other favour you could have bestowed. Lady Matilda,” added he, “suffer me to take your hand at parting, and let it be a testimony that you acknowledge me for a relation.”
She put out her hand—which he knelt to receive, but did not raise it to his lips—he held the boon too sacred—and looking earnestly upon it, as it lay pale and wan in his, he breathed one sigh over it, and withdrew.