Since the death of the late Earl, she had not been in town; nor had the present Earl been near the place where she resided, since the week in which her lover died; of course, nothing similar to love could have been declared at so early a period; and if it had been made known at a later, it must only have been by letter, or by the deputation of Mr. Sandford, who they knew had been once in the country to visit her; but how little he was qualified to enforce a tender passion, was a comfortable reflection.
Revived by these conjectures, of which some were true, and others false; the very next day a gloom overspread their bright prospects, on Mr. Sandford’s saying, as he entered the breakfast-room,
“Miss Fenton, ladies, desired me to present her compliments.”
“Is she in town?” asked Mrs. Horton.
“She came yesterday morning,” returned Sandford, “and is at her brother’s, in Ormond-street; my Lord and I supped there last night, and that made us so late home.”
Lord Elmwood entered soon after, and bowing to his ward, confirmed what had been said, by telling her, that “Miss Fenton had charged him with her kindest respects.”
“How does poor Miss Fenton look?” Mrs. Horton asked Lord Elmwood.
To which question Sandford replied, “Beautiful—she looks beautifully.”
“She has got over her uneasiness, I suppose then?” said Mrs. Horton—not dreaming that she was asking the questions before her new lover.
“Uneasy!” replied Sandford, “uneasy at any trial this world can send? That would be highly unworthy of her.”